Forty years of living came to a bitter end with betrayal.
There will be no conditional release, I said, disappointment plain in my voice.
Alright, Emma nodded, a faint smile curling her lips.
Even your cooperation wont count, I lowered my eyes. I cant do anything but hand you a real term. And with the sums involved,sorry, theyre considerable.
Fine, fine, Emma repeated. I understand.
MsEmma?
Just Emma, please, she snapped sharply. Im not interested in formalities or respect. I dont want anything to do with that person.
The procedure, forgive me, I shrugged.
Your procedure should at least allow a change of identity while Im in custody! irritation edged her tone. I dont know how long Ill be inside, but the moment Im out Ill change everything.
So you came forward not as a dutiful citizen but for personal reasons? You hold a personal grudge against the suspects?
A grownup, a detective, asking such naïve questions, Emma chuckled. In your value system no one would sit in prison just to punish someone else! Its absurd!
At best youd have sent an anonymous tip. I came myself to make sure they couldnt slip away. If you like, consider it revenge.
But as I said, even as an accomplice youll still get a real term, the investigator reminded.
That suits me as well, Emma replied, a restrained smile on her face.
A heavy pause followed. I could have sent her to a cell and begun preparing the court papers, but I lingered. There was something about this woman a pull, not of a man for a woman, but of one human for another.
When I, David Whitmore, looked at Emma, a pang of pity roselike the feeling you get seeing a stray kitten in the rain, wanting to feed, warm, protect it.
I never pities people; I pity kittens. That impartiality is what made me a good detective, keeping personal feelings out of the job.
This case, however, cracked the system. A citizen walks in, reports a crime, admits to being an accomplice. The prosecutor says there are no indulgences. Documents to court, and let the sentence run.
Yet here stood a stern, composed, strict woman, and I felt the urge to spare her, like that kitten.
Could you open the window? Emma asked suddenly. Theres no vent in here, but I could use some fresh air.
There are bars, I pointed out.
You think Im going to run? she laughed. Please.
I opened the small window, feeling the damp November wind creep in.
Much better! Emma breathed, a deep sigh escaping her.
Its cold, I replied.
May I come closer? she asked, nodding toward the opening.
I stepped aside, giving her space.
Dont you want to tell me how you ended up like this? I tried a joke, clumsy. Not for the record, just out of curiosity.
Do you need that? she retorted.
It might help you vent, I shrugged. Just get it out.
Emmas earliest memories were of waiting for her parents. The places kept changing: the local nursery, her grandmothers cottage, a neighbours flat, the playground, then the walls of her own bedroom.
Her parents ran a family businessback then it was called a cooperative, but the name mattered little. They lived by the mantra:
Parents must work hard so the family never lacks.
Only when Emma started school did she manage a few moments with her mother, and that was because her mother had given birth to two little brothers for her. First one, then three years later another.
Emma longed for more attention, but even a child understood that toddlers gobbled up most of a mothers time.
When the younger brother finally started nursery, the responsibility of looking after both fell on Emma. Remembering those days without her mother, she did everything she could to fill the maternal role.
Money was never a problem; shed been taught to manage it from a young age. Yet, puzzlingly, her parents never hired a housekeeper, so Emma learned those chores herself.
She never found a clear career path.
Accountant! her father declared. Thats what the firm needs. Being your own accountant is half the success.
Emma completed her first year without trouble. When the basics were covered, her father brought her into the family firm, placed her in the accounts department, and urged:
Learn on the job. Youll be handling everything later.
It made sense; her brothers werent yet ready for serious responsibilities.
When Emma earned her diploma, her father started talking about marriage. He introduced her to several young mensons of his business partnersletting her choose. Emma never imagined such a process. She was drawn to James, a few years older, handsome, tall, and impeccably polite among the suitors.
Her parents approved, and Emma moved in with James before the wedding.
As the new family formed, contracts, joint ventures, and large agreements began to appear. The marriage was presented as a guarantee of honest intentions.
Emma kept working in her fathers accounts, and James suggested a partnership:
Our families firms are so intertwined theyll never untangle. My fathers chair will be taken by my older brother, but I want to start something of my own.
That sounds wonderful! Emma exclaimed.
But I need an accountant I can trust. Who else could I rely on except my beloved wife?
Naturally, Emma agreed. She couldnt refuse her husband, nor betray her father. She straddled both worldsfamily is family, after all.
When Emma became pregnant, things simplified. She discovered she could work remotely; reports and tax filings could be couriered. No more waiting for paperwork to be delivered between firms, and she still had time for the children. She gave birth to a son and a daughter.
When maternity leave ended, Emma saw no point in returning to a physical office. She continued managing the accounts from home.
The directors chair that once belonged to her father now eyed her brothers, while her parents leaned toward making them the heads.
Tragedy struck. Emmas mother died suddenly of a ruptured aneurysm. The stress caused her father to suffer a stroke.
The brothers rushed to see their sister.
We cant even place him in a toptier nursing home, let alone afford a full staff! You run our accounts! they cried. If he opens his mouth, one careless word could cost us a fortune.
Emma had to agree to move her father into the house she shared with James. Their children were already studying abroad.
Her fathers revelations werent meant for outsiders. Moving in to care for him meant merging the servers and accounting systems of both families under one roof.
If you trace back through memory, youll see Emma was groomed to be the accountant who could hide any irregularities. Without those tricks, the business would crumble.
So Emma, though never the chief executive, owned a third of the combined assets by right of family and fairness. James performed just as well, and together they kept the empire afloat.
She spent five long years caring for her father, adding nursing and rehabilitation duties to her skill set. Age and the aftermath of his stroke took their toll.
Then Hell opened its doors. The reading of Andrew Whitmores willEmmas fatherset the final stage.
It turned out Emma was an adopted child, taken from a childrens home. As such, under Andrews wishes, she received nothing. Her brothers greedily signed away their claims and vanished.
When James learned Emma would inherit nothing, he filed for divorce immediately. Emma demanded a division of assets, but James produced a prenuptial agreement she had signed without reading. Under its terms, she held no rightsshe was expected to leave.
The children, hearing their parents were splitting and that their mother would be left penniless, chose to forget her. Their only anchor became their father; it was as if their mother never existed.
Both firms terminated Emmas employment on the spot. She was left with nothinga designer handbag containing documents, the clothes on her back, and £5,000 in spare change. Free, but utterly broke.
She still possessed the password to a cloud vault where, once a month, she uploaded a backup of both firms accounts for safekeeping. Without that password, no one could access the data. That information could be sold to her brothers or exhusband for a fortune, but revenge drove her.
She walked into the police station and confessed to years of complicity in fraudulent schemes, ready to hand over every detail and name, asking for no leniency.
Lets put this on record, the detective suggested. Or you can tell it all in court. Theyre people too; they might show some mercy if you help the investigation.
Emma stared into the sympathetic eyes of the officer, then said:
When I was seven my brother was born, and Ive been running on a treadmill ever sinceschool, looking after my brothers, studying for a profession, then juggling two jobs, a marriage, two more jobs, and caring for a paralysed father when the kids went abroad.
She forced a nervous smile. I just want a break! Give me what Im owed and Ill serve my time gladly.
Eight years later, Veronica Hart emerged from the Register Office, facing a whole new world shed have to learn from scratch.
Hello, Im Veronica, she said brightly. Pleasure to meet you.
She knew she still had about five years of hardship ahead, strangers all around, but she was ready to start again.
