Truth

Claire reminded herself that her memory banks held a litany of scenes involving Anthony Rawlings. She had plenty to supersede the erotic episodes she was currently viewing – no, reliving. She knew the other memories existed. It’s just she’d worked to compartmentalize them away. So when her eyes closed and she remembered sharing a table with him, only hours before, the lock on the negative part of their past remained secure.

Then again, during that di

That wasn’t completely true. His veneer definitely cracked when she referred to him as Anton. That bombshell unquestionably permeated his facade. Claire still couldn’t wrap her mind around this new revelation. Of course, she’d assumed the box was from him. She was certain of the writing, although the note wasn’t signed. Claire wished she still had the note. But, she had the pictures. The writing on the back of those, she was certain was his.

Again, thankful Amber wasn’t home, Claire chose to forgo another all-consuming dream and get-up. She wanted to review and work on their research.

With a warm cup of coffee in tow, Claire made her way to one of the spare bedrooms. Turning on the light she marveled at the magnitude of papers. Slowly, she was taking over more and more of Amber’s space. Although she mentioned finding a place of her own, she admittedly liked the company. And thus far, Amber had been more than accommodating. It was Claire who suggested moving the mountains of findings to the small bedroom. She felt bad burying the dining room table with her stacks of research.

The queen-sized bed created the perfect palate for Claire’s unique filing system. There were piles from one end to the other. In a paperless world, she’d managed to personally decimate a tree or two. The information was also saved on her laptop. Nonetheless, holding the pages in her hands, gave Claire a sense of reality. She knew from experience the internet could contain false truths. However, when she held a story, a blurb from an article, dates from public record, and pictures, in her hand – it gave them validity. The small desk contained her laptop while a dresser held the printer.

Claire moved toward the bed and stacks of information. She wondered, could there be something in their accumulated data she’d missed? She wasn’t the only one gathering information. Harry pulled strings to get police information containing invaluable reports unavailable to the general public. Amber willingly spent hours surfing the net, back-dooring company websites. She understood the business side of their research much more than Claire.

That being said, the depth of Claire’s business knowledge surprised them all. Apparently, the days she’d spent in Tony’s office weren’t wasted. She remembered sitting hour after hour while Tony worked, required to be at the ready, in case her services were demanded. At the time she saw it as his display of power and control over her time and body. Today, she gri

How many people receive the opportunity, to watch and listen to one of the country’s most successful entrepreneurs at work? Although she usually spent those days reading, she subconsciously listened. Perhaps, he felt she didn’t care, or couldn’t understand. Claire opted for the answer: he didn’t even consider eavesdropping. He was busy displaying his power over her schedule, the rest of the world be damned.

She shuttered at the estimation of hours spent in that office during the nearly two years on his estate. After they were married, most of the time was voluntary. Nevertheless, she’d listened to web-conferences, webinars, and u

When in his office and perturbed, he had a habit of rolling an old key ring in his hand. It was some old trinket he kept in the upper right hand drawer of his large desk. If Claire looked up from her book or magazine and saw the stupid ring ru

Contemplating those memories, Claire’s stomach twisted. His unease was directly proportional to the downturn of her day. Not only did he control her comings and goings, he was the barometer for the tone of her life. If he were happy, the day could be manageable, maybe even good. If he weren’t...well, she really hated that stupid key ring.

Her business knowledge was unrealized until she read an article about a company under investigation by the SEC, Securities Exchange Commission. Claire remembered hours of discussion about that same company. Some of the issues that, according to the article were just brought to light had actually been debated ad nauseam years before.

Amber found her information very intriguing. After Amber pulled up more details on the company, Claire was shocked to realize she actually knew, or at least recognized, the names and faces of many prominent players. They were people Claire had been responsible for entertaining at business di

Settling into a comfortable chair, feet on an ottoman, wrapped in her warm robe, Claire began rereading documents. Anthony was obviously surprised by the use of his name, Anton Rawls. He flat out denied it. Well, he called it a ridiculous story. She didn’t directly ask if he was once Anton Rawls. She only asked him if he sent her the box. That he categorically denied.

Claire decided to start at the begi

Today a wealth of information was available on every publicly traded company: assets, liabilities, ownership equity, profit and loss sheets, management analysis and much more. The same information was presumably available in 1975 but not at a click of a button. Claire debated traveling to New Jersey to access microfiche files. The woman on the telephone told her they should have it. However, the state of New Jersey does not have the inclination, time, or manpower to track the old information. She invited Claire to come and investigate the bowels of their storage. Although a lovely invitation, Claire hadn’t decided if it were necessary.

January 1986 rumors involving Rawls Corp resulted in a drastic drop in stock price. Investors wanted their money returned. 1987 Nathaniel Rawls was convicted and incarcerated at Camp Gabriels, a minimum security state prison, located in northern New York. He was sentenced to thirty-six months, one of the heaviest penalties dispersed for a white collar crime. 1989, twenty-two months after conviction, Nathaniel Rawls died of a heart attack.

Harry found a list of civil cases involving Nathaniel during his incarceration. He said it wasn’t uncommon for prisoners to be sued. Many wronged investors want blood from a turnip, so to speak. Claire hadn’t read the various cases. Harry admitted he’d only sca