Back story.
At the conference room at Meridian Marketing Group, Marcus Liu sat at the head of the table with his laptop open. Gregory Hartman paced near the windows. Three other men sat around the table looking nervous.
"The Martinez woman is asking questions," one of them said. Jackson Morris. Eight years with the company. He twisted his pen between his fingers. "She pulled files from the Castellano account yesterday. Files she shouldn't have access to."
Gregory stopped pacing. "What files?"
"Product launch timelines. Technical specifications. The same documents we sent to Castellano's competitors last month."
"How did she get access?" Marcus asked. His voice was calm but his fingers tightened on his laptop.
"Someone left them in a shared folder. She was doing routine research and found them." Jackson's pen clicked faster. "She started asking me about the dates. Why we had information three weeks before Castellano's public announcement."
Gregory moved to the window. Looked down at the Seattle street below. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her to drop it."
Marcus closed his laptop. "Just that? If she goes to the police with those files we're all finished."
"She won't go to the police," Gregory said. He was still looking out the window. "She's ambitious. She cares about her career. She won't risk burning bridges with the company."
"Are you willing to bet your freedom on that?" Jackson stood up. "Because I'm not. I have kids. I have a mortgage. I didn't sign up to go to prison."
"Nobody's going to prison," Gregory turned from the window. "We will handle this quietly."
"How?" another man, Richard asked. "She already has the files. If she backed them up we can't delete them remotely."
Gregory pulled out his phone. Typed something. "My sister can handle it."
"Your sister?" Marcus leaned back in his chair. "You want to involve Celeste? She's already up to her neck in this."
"You know Celeste has resources we don't." Gregory's phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and smiled. "She says she'll take care of it."
Jackson's pen stopped clicking. "Take care of it how?"
"That's not our concern."
"Like hell it isn't. If you're talking about hurting Elena—"
"I'm talking about protecting what we've built." Gregory moved back to the table. Placed both hands flat on the surface. "We've been working this operation for three years. Three years of careful planning and execution. We're not going to lose everything because one curious employee couldn't mind her own business."
"She could die," Jackson said quietly.
"She won't die." Gregory's voice was flat. "She'll have an accident. Something that looks completely natural. A terrible tragedy. Nobody will investigate because there will be nothing to investigate."
Marcus opened his laptop again. Pulled up a document. "The final payment from Castellano Technologies cleared yesterday. Three hundred thousand from the last product launch. That brings our total to three point seven million over thirty six months."
"Split five ways," Richard said. "Seven hundred forty thousand each."
"Minus operational costs," Marcus corrected. "The bribes. The shell companies. The offshore accounts. We're each walking away with about six hundred thousand."
"Six hundred thousand and prison time if Martinez talks," Jackson said.
Gregory's phone buzzed again. He read the message. "It's handled. Friday night. Her usual route home."
Jackson stood up so fast his chair fell backward. "You can't be serious."
"Sit down."
"I'm not sitting down. You just ordered a hit on a woman I've worked with for three years."
"I didn't order anything." Gregory's voice was ice. "My sister is handling a business problem. How she handles it is her decision. I don't ask questions."
"That's murder, Greg."
"That's self preservation." Gregory looked around the table. "We're all in this together. If one of us goes down, we all go down. Martinez made her choice when she started digging. Now we're making ours."
Marcus closed his laptop again. "When will we know it's done?"
"Friday night. Late. After she leaves the office." Gregory checked his phone. "A delivery truck. Brake failure. Happens all the time in the city."
"Jesus Christ," Jackson whispered.
"Anyone having second thoughts can leave now," Gregory said. "Walk out that door. But if you do, you're on your own when the FBI comes asking questions. Because they will come. Eventually. And when they do, I want to know everyone in this room is committed to the same story."
Nobody moved.
"Good." Gregory picked up his coffee cup. "We meet here again Monday morning. Business as usual. If anyone asks about Martinez we express shock and sadness. We send flowers to the funeral. We move on."
"What about the files she copied?" Richard asked.
"Her personal computer will be in the accident. Destroyed. Her cloud storage will be accessed and wiped remotely. By Monday morning there will be no evidence she ever saw those documents."
Marcus stood. "I need to be in San Francisco this weekend. The Castellano wedding. I'm expected to attend."
"Adrian's wedding?" Gregory laughed. "Perfect. Be the supportive business partner. Toast to his happiness. Meanwhile his new wife's mother is cleaning up our mess in Seattle."
"Victoria won't know anything," Marcus said. "She's just a pawn."
"Everyone's a pawn." Gregory moved to the door. "This meeting never happened. We never discussed Elena Martinez. We never discussed Castellano Technologies. We're legitimate marketing professionals doing legitimate work. Understood?"
Murmurs of agreement around the table.
Jackson was the last to leave. He stopped at the door. "I want out after this."
Gregory smiled. "There is no out. You're already complicit. The moment you took your first payment you became part of this. Walking away now doesn't change that."
Jackson left without responding.
The conference room emptied. Gregory stood alone looking at the table. His phone buzzed with another message from Celeste.
*Done. Truck is ready. Driver is paid. Friday night between 9 and 10 PM.*
Gregory typed back. *Good. Keep me updated.*
He deleted the messages. Wiped his phone. Left the conference room and walked to his corner office.
His assistant looked up as he passed. "Mr. Hartman? Your sister called. She wants you to call her back."
"I'll handle it." Gregory closed his office door. Locked it.
He sat at his desk and opened his laptop. Pulled up the offshore accounts. Three point seven million dollars moved through Meridian over three years. Split among five conspirators. Hidden in shell companies and fake consulting fees.
And Adrian Castellano had no idea his own CFO had been stealing from him the entire time.
Marcus Liu was brilliant. He had access to everything. Product plans. Financial data. Launch schedules. He fed it all to Meridian who sold it to Castellano's competitors.
The profits were enormous. The risk was manageable. Until Elena Martinez started asking questions.
Just curious. Just smart enough to notice the dates didn't match.
Smart enough to die for it.
Gregory closed the file. Friday night would solve the problem. And by Monday morning Elena Martinez would be in a hospital or a morgue. Either way she would not be asking questions anymore.
Gregory's phone rang. Celeste.
"It's set," she said without preamble. "My contact has the truck. The driver knows the route. It will happen at the intersection of Fifth and Pine. High traffic area. Multiple witnesses. Nobody will question brake failure."
"Good."
"This cleans up your mess," Celeste said. "Don't make me clean up another one."
"We're done after this. The operation is finished. We have our money."
"You have your money. I still need Victoria married to Castellano. That merger is the only thing keeping the hotels afloat."
"The wedding is this weekend."
"I know. I'll be there watching my daughter pledge her life to a man she doesn't love. All so I can access his fortune and save what our father built."
"Does Victoria suspect anything?"
"Victoria suspects everything and knows nothing. She's been asking questions. Hiring investigators. But she's found nothing concrete. After the wedding it won't matter. Castellano will be family. His money will be our money."
"What if she tells him about us? About Marcus?"
Celeste laughed. "She won't live long enough to tell him anything."
Gregory's hand tightened on the phone. "What are you talking about?"
"Insurance. Just like with the Martinez woman. My daughter knows too much. She's seen files she shouldn't have seen. After she delivers the baby she'll have a tragic complication. These things happen during childbirth. Very sad. Very convenient."
"You're going to kill your own daughter?"
"I'm going to protect what's mine. Victoria was always expendable. I raised her to marry well and give me access to real wealth. She's done one of those things. The other will happen through inheritance after her unfortunate death."
The line went dead.
Gregory should feel guilty. Should feel something.
But all he felt was relief that the loose ends were being handled.
He deleted his call history. Wiped his phone again.
And went back to work like nothing happened.