[COMPLETED] My Boyfriend Chose a Rich Heiress at the Mafia Gala—Then the Most Feared Crime Boss Covered My Shoulders With His Coat

Isabel arranged a meeting with Elaine two days later. We chose a quiet café away from Blackridge offices. Elaine arrived without her usual bright lipstick and kept glancing toward the windows.

“I shouldn't be here,” she said before sitting down.

“Then why did you come?” I asked.

“Because you're going to be blamed for something you tried to stop.”

She set her coffee down untouched.

The payroll changes had begun as adjustments to transportation time, she explained. Blackridge's forestry crews often worked long shifts moving equipment and timber through difficult terrain. Hours were entered by site supervisors, checked against scheduling logs, and approved before payment.

The discrepancies I found were not ordinary mistakes. Certain hours were removed after supervisor approval and reassigned to a category called external services. The money attached to that category went to a contractor named Clearwater Staffing.

“Did Clearwater supply workers?” Isabel asked.

“Not to any of the crews I handled,” Elaine said. “But corporate finance said the invoices covered subcontracted labor.”

“Who signed the authorization?”

Elaine pressed her lips together.

“Daniel Reeves.”

My stomach dropped, though part of me had expected the name.

“Daniel isn't a payroll supervisor,” I said.

“He has contract authority through corporate development. His department could request corrections. They weren't supposed to override payroll approval.”

“Were they overriding it?”

Elaine nodded.

She had noticed requests marked with my user identification, submitted at hours when I was not working. When she questioned them, she was told the approvals had been confirmed by management.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Grant made it clear that resisting the contract adjustments could cost people their jobs.” Her eyes filled. “I kept telling myself someone above me would correct it.”

I thought of Rosa Alvarez asking about a missing weekend paycheck.

“Did anyone get their money?”

“Some corrections went through. Most were reversed again.”

Isabel didn't ask Elaine to hand over confidential files. Instead, she explained how to preserve her recollections and how a formal investigation could obtain system logs and company records.

Before leaving, Elaine looked at me with such open regret that I almost turned away.

“I watched you ask questions,” she said. “I watched them tell you to stop. I'm sorry I stayed quiet.”

I wanted to tell her that apologies did not pay rent. But I had spent years learning what fear could do to people whose lives were tied to Blackridge.

“I need you to tell the truth now,” I said.

“I will.”

That afternoon, Isabel helped me file a written complaint with the appropriate labor authorities and request a preservation hold on records connected to my account. We described the missing hours, the unexplained approvals, the employment threats, and the connection to Clearwater Staffing. We didn't claim to know more than we could show.

Afterward, I drove to the edge of town and parked near a small grocery store. I called Rosa using a number she had previously given me when she asked about her wages. I was careful not to discuss anyone else's pay.

She remembered me immediately.

“You're the one who said you'd look into the missing weekend,” she said.

“I did look. I don't have an answer yet.”

Her silence lasted a few seconds.

“I worked those hours,” she said finally. “My crew leader knows. I had to borrow money to cover my son's medicine that month.”

The simple certainty of her voice made the problem feel different from the numbers in my notebook. These were days people had spent away from home. Meals postponed. Bills carried forward.

“Would you be willing to speak to an investigator?” I asked.

“If it means we might finally get paid, yes.”

When I told Isabel, she asked me not to contact more workers on my own. She wanted to make sure any testimony would be voluntary and carefully handled. I agreed, relieved to have someone separating urgency from recklessness.

Nathaniel called that evening.

“I heard you found counsel,” he said.

“I did. She represents me, not you.”

“Good.”

His approval irritated me more than it should have.

“Did you know about Clearwater Staffing?” I asked.

“I knew the name appeared on invoices tied to Pinehaven hauling routes. I didn't know what was behind them.”

“Your company paid those invoices?”

“Some passed through joint contracts. My people are reviewing them.”

“So your organization might have benefited.”

“Yes.”

He answered without hesitation. That did not excuse anything, but it kept me from having to drag the admission out of him.

“Then don't put a coat on me and pretend you're the hero,” I said.

A pause.

“I won't.”

I heard the low hum of an engine on his end of the line.

“Grant wants me to withdraw questions about the contracts,” Nathaniel continued. “He says an internal review will settle them.”

“Do you believe him?”

“No. But I won't decide what you do. Your attorney can contact my compliance counsel if she wants the records we can legally provide.”

I looked across my cramped apartment. The laundry machines rattled beneath the floor. My work badge sat on the table beside the blue notebook.

“Why is Grant so determined to keep those records inside Blackridge?” I asked.

“That's what I intend to find out.”

After the call, Isabel forwarded a response from Blackridge. They had refused to describe the supposed misconduct beyond 'unauthorized approval activity.' They also claimed the relevant system logs were temporarily unavailable because of maintenance.

But Elaine had already told us there were after-hours approvals under my name.

And the company that controlled my rent was claiming it could no longer find the records that might prove who entered them.