Chapter 4 - THE MAN INSIDE MY COMPANY
I stared at Martin’s name.
“No.”
Rachel looked at me.
“You trust him?”
“He’s worked for me for six years.”
Martin had been there when Solara moved from my kitchen into its first warehouse.
He had negotiated insurance.
Helped build payroll systems.
Sat beside me when we finally crossed ten million dollars in annual revenue.
When his wife had surgery, I paid his salary during twelve weeks of leave.
He sent flowers every year on Solara’s anniversary.
And now his name appeared on a company Javier planned to fund with money taken from me.
I called him.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
Rachel said, “Don’t warn him.”
“He already knows something is wrong. The accounts are frozen.”
We drove to Solara’s office.
Martin wasn’t there.
His assistant said he had called in sick.
I went directly to accounting.
“Pull every payment Martin approved in the last twenty-four months.”
My finance manager, Priya, looked worried.
“Everything?”
“Everything.”
By lunchtime, we had discovered a pattern.
Martin had not initiated the $150,000 transfer.
Javier had.
But Martin had approved the fake vendor account that made it possible.
He had also approved payments to Lydia’s Desert Rose Lifestyle.
Apparently he had classified them as influencer partnerships and regional distribution expenses.
Priya stared at the screen.
“I should have caught this.”
“No.”
“I reviewed monthly reports.”
“So did I.”
The truth hurt.
I had become too busy.
Solara had grown quickly.
I spent my days on product development, manufacturing, retailers, marketing, employees.
I trusted systems.
I trusted people.
Javier knew that.
So did Martin.
At 2:15, Rachel received a call.
“Martin’s attorney.”
“He already has an attorney?”
“That answers some questions.”
Martin wanted to meet.
Not at Solara.
Not at my home.
At Rachel’s office.
We agreed.
He arrived at five.
He looked terrible.
Wrinkled shirt.
Red eyes.
Hands trembling.
I wanted to scream at him.
Instead, I asked one question.
“Why?”
Martin sat down.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“Javier approached me last year.”
“With what?”
“An opportunity.”
“To steal from me?”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“At first, no.”
Javier had told Martin he was creating an import business supplying packaging and cosmetic accessories.
Because Martin understood Solara’s supply chain, Javier offered him ten percent ownership.
Martin accepted.
Then Javier asked him to approve Desert Rose as a vendor.
“He said Lydia was going to handle regional influencer distribution.”
“You knew she wasn’t qualified.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was his mother.”
“Yes.”
“You knew it was a conflict.”
“Yes.”
Each answer made me colder.
“Did you receive money?”
Martin looked down.
“Twenty thousand.”
Wyatt, sitting beside me, whispered, “Wow.”
Martin looked at him.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse,” Wyatt said.
“Wyatt.”
“No, Naomi.”
He pointed at Martin.
“She trusted you.”
Martin’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
Then came the real reason Martin had agreed.
His daughter had been accepted into an expensive treatment program for a neurological condition.
Insurance denied most of it.
Martin was drowning in debt.
Javier learned about it.
Offered money.
Then leverage.
The first favor became the second.
Then the third.
By the time Martin realized Javier was using fake invoices, he was already involved.
“You could have told me,” I said.
“I was ashamed.”
“I would have helped you.”
“I know that now.”
“No, Martin. You knew it then.”
He cried.
I felt sorry for his daughter.
I felt sorry for his fear.
I did not excuse his choices.
There is a difference.
Rachel asked, “What does Javier want with Alvarez Pacific Trading?”
Martin wiped his face.
“He believes he can use Solara’s distribution contacts to import beauty products directly.”
My stomach tightened.
“Compete with me?”
“Yes.”
“Using my suppliers?”
“Yes.”
“My customer lists?”
He said nothing.
That silence was enough.
I stood.
“You’re fired.”
Martin nodded.
“I expected that.”
“You will return every device and record belonging to Solara.”
“Yes.”
“You will cooperate with the forensic audit.”
“Yes.”
“And if you lie to us once—”
“I won’t.”
“You already did for a year.”
He flinched.
“Then I won’t again.”
Before leaving, Martin gave Rachel a flash drive.
“What’s this?”
“Messages between Javier and me.”
“Why keep them?”
“Because three months ago I realized he planned to blame everything on me.”
Apparently Javier had started sending careful emails instructing Martin to “verify” expenses Javier had already arranged.
He was creating a paper trail.
Martin became suspicious and preserved earlier text messages.
One was particularly useful.
Javier: Naomi will never notice. She thinks because she owns the company, she controls everything.
Another:
Martin: The Desert Rose payments are getting too large.
Javier: Relax. Mom deserves compensation. Naomi has treated her like a guest in the family when she should be treated like an owner.
An owner.
Lydia had never invested one dollar.
Then another message.
Martin: What about the mortgage?
Javier: Once Naomi signs, we pull 310K. 150 covers the Scottsdale property. 80 to Mom. Remaining cash funds Pacific Trading. Naomi can fight about it after the fact. Divorce courts take years.
I read it twice.
They expected me to discover it eventually.
They simply believed that by then the money would be gone.
Wyatt looked at me.
“They planned your divorce before you did.”
“Yes.”
That was perhaps the cruelest part.
Javier had been preparing for life after our marriage while I was still trying to save it.
That night, I returned home.
The broken dinner table was still in pieces because I had not had time to replace it.
Wyatt sat on the kitchen counter eating takeout chicken.
He held up a drumstick.
“Am I allowed?”
I laughed for the first time in twenty-four hours.
“Eat the entire chicken.”
He grinned.
Then his face became serious.
“Naomi?”
“What?”
“Did you stay with him because of me?”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“You used to tell Mom everything was great.”
“It wasn’t about you.”
“You stopped visiting Wyoming as much after you married him.”
That was true.
Javier hated visiting my parents’ farm.
He called it boring.
Lydia said my family made him “feel like an outsider.”
Eventually I stopped asking him to go.
Then I stopped going too.
I had told myself marriage required compromise.
Somehow, all the compromises became mine.
“I made mistakes,” I said.
Wyatt shook his head.
“You tried to make your marriage work.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m going to make sure it ends correctly.”
The next morning, the first court hearing took place.
Rachel requested emergency restrictions preventing Javier from transferring or disposing of disputed assets.
His attorney argued I was trying to destroy him financially.
Then Javier entered the courtroom.
Designer suit.
Perfect hair.
Calm smile.
He looked like the man I had fallen in love with.
For one dangerous second, memory hit me.
Our first date.
Our wedding.
The night he helped me pack five hundred Solara orders because two employees called out sick.
He had not always been cruel.
Or maybe he had simply been better at hiding it.
During a recess, Javier approached me.
“You look tired.”
I stared at him.
“Is that supposed to work?”
“What?”
“Pretending you care.”
“I do care.”
“You stole from me.”
“We’re married.”
“You bought a house with another woman.”
“That was complicated.”
“No. The paperwork was extremely clear.”
He smiled faintly.
“Naomi, you’re angry right now. But after lawyers take half your money and spend two years fighting, you’ll realize we should settle privately.”
“What do you want?”
He leaned closer.
“One point two million dollars.”
I almost laughed.
“In exchange for what?”
“I walk away from Solara.”
“You don’t own Solara.”
“I’m your husband. I have claims.”
“Then make them in court.”
His expression cooled.
“You think Martin’s going to save you?”
I said nothing.
That told me something.
He knew Martin had talked.
Javier lowered his voice.
“If you make this ugly, your business gets ugly too.”
“What does that mean?”
“Suppliers start hearing things.”
My stomach tightened.
“Customers hear things.”
“Are you threatening Solara?”
“I’m telling you divorces have consequences.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
I pointed at my handbag.
Rachel’s small digital recorder was inside.
Arizona laws and legal use would be handled by my attorney.
But Javier didn’t know whether I had recorded him legally or not.
His face changed.
“You’re bluffing.”
“Maybe.”
He walked away.
That afternoon, something worse happened.
Three major retailers received anonymous emails accusing Solara of falsifying safety tests.
Completely false.
But potentially devastating.
One retailer temporarily paused a new product launch pending review.
Another demanded documentation.
Someone was attacking my company exactly as Javier had threatened.
Then Priya called me.
“Naomi, you need to see this.”
“What?”
“Someone downloaded our confidential supplier database last night.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“The login belongs to Javier.”
But Javier’s access had been disabled two days earlier.
May you like
Which meant someone still inside Solara was helping him.
Martin had not been the only one.
