Chapter 9 - Natalie’s Message Revealed the Affair Had Started With a Business Target

Natalie contacted me at 6:14 Monday evening.

Not anonymously.

Not through a lawyer.

Directly.

Claire. I need to speak to you before Grant does something stupid.

I showed Danielle.

She sighed.

“I would like one client in my career whose spouse’s mistress does not become a witness.”

“Is that common?”

“No. I’m trying to make you feel less cursed.”

It did not work.

Danielle arranged a call with both attorneys present.

Natalie did not have one.

That surprised everybody.

At 8:00, her face appeared on my laptop from what looked like a hotel room.

No makeup.

Hair pulled back.

The expensive polish was gone.

She looked thirty-one instead of timeless.

“Claire,” she said.

I did not respond to my name like an invitation.

Danielle began.

“This call is being recorded with consent.”

Natalie nodded.

“I know.”

“Why did you contact Mrs. Whitmore?”

“Because Grant thinks I stole Bellwether information.”

“Did you?”

A pause.

“Yes.”

My stomach tightened even though I expected it.

Natalie looked at me.

“But not the way he thinks.”

“That sentence is popular in your circle,” I said.

She flinched.

Good.

“Explain,” Danielle said.

Natalie took a breath.

Two years earlier, while working at a branding agency, she managed luxury tenant outreach for Rowe Westhaven.

Julian Rowe’s firm wanted Bellwether.

They suspected Whitmore Urban Holdings had commitments from two European brands that could decide the project.

A consultant approached Natalie after she left the agency.

No company title.

No written contract stating espionage.

Just “competitive intelligence.”

“They paid you to get close to Grant,” Danielle said.

“They paid me to learn what tenants he had.”

“How?”

“Industry events. Conversations. Networking.”

“Sex?”

Natalie looked down.

“That was not the original plan.”

I laughed once.

Not kindly.

She continued.

Grant noticed her at an event.

Invited her to dinner with executives.

Then another.

The affair began four months later.

“Did he know you had worked for Rowe?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“He knew?”

“It was on my résumé.”

Of course it was.

Arrogance can turn public information invisible.

“Why photograph documents?”

“Because someone kept asking for more.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know his real name.”

Danielle leaned closer.

“You accepted money from an unknown person to obtain confidential information?”

“I knew him as Marcus.”

The anonymous emails were signed M.

My heartbeat changed.

“How did Marcus contact you?”

“Encrypted messages. Burner numbers.”

“Who introduced you?”

“A former colleague.”

“What did you send?”

“Tenant names. Rent assumptions. Two pages from the financing model.”

“Did you send the page photographed in my house?”

“Yes.”

I felt suddenly nauseated.

Mara slid water toward me.

“Why are you telling me this?”

Natalie’s face tightened.

“Because after Friday, Marcus told me to disappear for a while.”

“Maybe you should.”

“He sent me a photograph of you leaving the hotel.”

The room went silent.

“What?”

Natalie held her phone up to the camera.

A photograph showed Mara and me crossing the Stamford hotel lobby Sunday morning.

Taken from across the street.

Danielle’s voice hardened.

“Send that image to me now.”

“I already did.”

I stared at Natalie.

“Whoever Marcus is, he knows where I am?”

“He knew where you were.”

Past tense did not help.

“Does Grant know?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Grant will try to solve it himself, and every time he tries to control something he makes it worse.”

I almost smiled despite myself.

“You learned that quickly.”

“I learned a lot.”

Her eyes dropped.

“I knew you were pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“He told me your marriage was over except publicly.”

“You shook my hand.”

“I know.”

“You looked at my stomach.”

“I know.”

“And you kept seeing him.”

Her eyes filled.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”

“Good.”

“He said you both had agreed to wait until after the birth to announce separation because of stress and the press.”

“That was a lie.”

“I know now.”

“You wanted to know then.”

She did not defend herself.

That mattered more than excuses would have.

Danielle asked, “Why did Marcus want Bellwether?”

“I assumed Rowe Westhaven.”

“Assumed?”

Natalie nodded.

“I never dealt with Julian Rowe directly.”

“Then how do you know who you were working for?”

“I don’t.”

The answer changed everything again.

Natalie opened another file.

“There’s more. Marcus asked for documents I never had access to through Grant.”

“What kind?”

“Internal cost overruns. Loan covenant warnings. Board correspondence.”

Mason had said some stolen documents never entered my house.

Danielle asked the next question.

“Did you receive any of those documents?”

“Yes.”

“From whom?”

“I don’t know.”

Natalie looked directly at me.

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“But the metadata on one PDF says it was created by Mason Reed.”

For years, Mason had been the person Grant called when a closing stalled, a lender panicked, or a board packet needed fixing at midnight. He had eaten at our table often enough to know which wine Grant opened for guests and which chair I preferred when my back hurt. If his name belonged inside the leak, the betrayal had been sitting much closer to us than Natalie ever had.