Chapter 3: The Secret Behind the Whitmore Name
At 9:47 p.m., Camille received a call from a number she recognized immediately.
Leonard Shaw.
She answered on the second ring.
“Mr. Shaw?””
“Camille. I hope I'm not calling too late.””
“Not at all. Is everything okay?””
“I was hoping you could clarify something for me.””
His tone was polite, but Camille had worked with him long enough to recognize the tension beneath it.
“What would you like to know?””
“I'm at a dinner with your husband's family. Your mother-in-law has been telling me about a financing opportunity involving the Whitmore Group.””
Camille closed her eyes briefly.
“I'm aware that the family has been discussing financing.””
“Are you involved in the business?””
“No. My consulting firm has no ownership interest in it.””
“That's what I thought.””
She heard the clink of glassware in the background and a low murmur of conversation.
“Mr. Shaw, may I ask why you're calling me?””
“Because Derrick just told me he has a signed agreement with a regional facilities company. He says the agreement will generate enough revenue to support the financing request.””
Camille's stomach tightened.
“Did he show you the agreement?””
“He offered to send it to me tomorrow.””
“Then I would recommend waiting until you've reviewed the documentation.””
A brief silence followed.
“That's exactly what I intend to do,” Leonard said.
“But your mother-in-law also mentioned that your consulting firm had reviewed the Whitmore Group's financial position.””
Camille straightened.
“I have never reviewed the Whitmore Group's financial statements.””
“Interesting.””
“Mr. Shaw, I want to be very clear. I have not represented that business, I have not certified its finances, and I have not endorsed any financing request on its behalf.””
“I appreciate the clarification.””
Camille could hear him moving away from the table.
“There's one more thing,” he said.
“Derrick referred to you as his company's financial adviser.””
Her grip tightened around the phone.
“He did what?””
“He said you were helping prepare the numbers.””
“That is false.””
“That's what I suspected.””
Camille stood and walked to her desk.
“Mr. Shaw, I need to ask you something. Did Derrick provide you with any documents carrying my name or my firm's name?””
“Not tonight. But Patricia mentioned that she had copies of some financial projections.””
Camille felt cold.
“Did she show them to you?””
“No. She said they were confidential and that Derrick would bring them to our next meeting.””
Camille opened her laptop.
“Please don't accept any documents presented as coming from my firm unless you verify them directly with me.””
“I will.””
She hesitated, then asked, “Can you tell me when the meeting is scheduled?””
“Tomorrow afternoon. Derrick requested a private meeting at my office.””
Camille looked at the clock.
“Then I suggest you postpone it until you've verified the claims he's made.””
Leonard was quiet for a moment.
“Camille, I have known Patricia for many years. She can be persuasive. But I do not invest based on family reputation. I invest based on evidence.””
“That's good to hear.””
“I'll contact you tomorrow.””
When the call ended, Camille sat at her desk and stared at the dark laptop screen.
The Whitmores had always treated her as though her professional success were an inconvenience. Patricia called her consulting work a hobby. Derrick joked that she spent too much time on spreadsheets.
Yet someone had apparently decided that her professional credibility was valuable enough to borrow without permission.
She opened the shared family folder on her computer.
Years earlier, Derrick had asked her to help organize documents for the Whitmore Group. He had said his mother was overwhelmed by paperwork and needed someone who understood contracts.
Camille had agreed to help scan several old invoices and arrange the files into folders.
She had never signed anything.
She had never approved any financial projections.
But the shared folder was still connected to an old account Derrick had used on their home computer.
She searched the folder for the phrase “financial projections.””
Three documents appeared.
The first was an outdated spreadsheet showing the Whitmore Group's revenue from two years earlier.
The second was a blank template Camille had downloaded for a completely different client.
The third file was titled:
*Whitmore Growth Forecast — Prepared by Camille Brooks Consulting.*
Her heart began to pound.
She opened it.
The document contained projected revenue figures, a proposed expansion plan, and a list of supposed contracts with commercial property clients.
At the bottom of the cover page was her company's logo.
Beneath it was her name.
*Prepared and reviewed by Camille Brooks, Principal Consultant.*
Camille stared at the screen.
She had never seen this document before.
She checked the file's properties. It had been created six days earlier using Derrick's laptop.
A second file contained an electronic signature that looked like hers.
It wasn't perfect. The slant was similar, but the final letter in her surname was wrong.
Someone had copied her signature from an old invoice.
Camille's fingers went numb.
She took screenshots of the document, its properties, and the signature page. Then she downloaded the files to a secure folder and sent copies to her business attorney.
Her phone rang again.
This time, Derrick.
She answered without greeting him.
“Did you use my company's name on financial projections?””
Silence.
Then he said, “What are you talking about?””
“The Whitmore Growth Forecast. My name is on it.””
“Oh. That.””
Camille felt a wave of disbelief.
“That?””
“Mom asked me to put together a presentation. She wanted it to look professional.””
“You used my logo.””
“I thought you'd be okay with it.””
“You used my signature.””
“I didn't forge anything. I copied it from an old document.””
The casualness of his explanation made her feel physically sick.
“You copied my signature onto a financial forecast I never reviewed.””
“Camille, it's a draft.””
“Then why does it say I prepared and reviewed it?””
“Because the investor wants to know the numbers were checked by someone qualified.””
“And you decided to pretend that someone was me?””
He exhaled sharply.
“You're making this sound criminal.””
“You used my business identity without permission.””
“I was trying to help my family.””
“Your family?””
“Our family.””
“No, Derrick. You were trying to impress an investor.””
He went quiet.
Camille continued, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.
“Did you show Leonard Shaw that document?””
“Not yet.””
“Were you planning to?””
“Tomorrow.””
She closed her eyes.
“Then you need to tell him the document is false before he sees it.””
“Camille, listen to me. We can fix this.””
“How?””
“I'll change the wording. I'll remove your name.””
“That's not enough.””
“What do you want me to do? Call everyone and tell them I made a mistake?””
“Yes.””
His voice sharpened.
“You're enjoying this, aren't you? For once, you get to be the person who knows something everyone else doesn't.””
Camille stared at the document.
She had spent years helping Derrick build confidence. She had reviewed his proposals, practiced presentations with him, and encouraged him when clients rejected his bids.
She had never imagined he would use that trust as permission to manufacture credentials.
“I'm not enjoying anything,” she said.
“I'm trying to protect my company.””
“Your company is doing fine. One draft isn't going to destroy it.””
“You don't get to decide that.””
He lowered his voice.
“Mom says you're overreacting because you're angry about dinner.””
Camille almost smiled at the absurdity.
“Of course she does.””
“She says you want to punish us.””
“Derrick, I was prepared to pay for dinner. I was prepared to pay for the cake. I was prepared to help your family celebrate. What I was not prepared to do was let you use my name to mislead an investor.””
He said nothing.
“Tell Leonard the truth,” she continued.
“And don't use my company name again.””
Then she ended the call.
For several minutes, she sat motionless at her desk.
Her wedding ring felt unusually heavy on her finger.
She slipped it off and placed it beside the laptop.
Not because she had decided to leave her marriage that night.
Because she needed to look at something that belonged to her without seeing Derrick attached to it.
At 10:31 p.m., an email arrived from her attorney.
*I have reviewed the screenshots. Preserve all original files and do not modify the documents. We need to discuss the potential unauthorized use of your firm's identity first thing tomorrow.*
Camille replied with the original attachments.
Then she opened the Whitmore Growth Forecast again.
A detail she had missed caught her eye.
On the final page, beneath the revenue projections, was a table listing three properties supposedly under contract.
She recognized one of the addresses.
It was a commercial building in Midtown Atlanta owned by a company she had advised the previous year.
That company had been considering a facilities management contract.
But it had never signed one with the Whitmore Group.
Camille checked the second address.
Another property belonging to the same client.
Then the third.
All three were real buildings.
All three had been assigned projected revenue figures.
And none of the contracts existed.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Marcus.
*Camille, you need to know something else. Patricia just told Leonard that the money for the investment will be secured by your house.*
Camille stared at the words.
Her house.
The home she had purchased before marrying Derrick.
The house she had kept in her own name because she had saved for years to afford the down payment.
She immediately opened her mortgage documents.
The property was solely hers. Derrick had never been added to the title.
But that wasn't the only protection she had put in place.
Before their wedding, her attorney had helped her establish a marital agreement. It clearly identified the house and her consulting business as separate property.
Derrick had signed it.
So had Camille.
Patricia had complained about it for months.
She had called it selfish, unromantic, and unnecessary.
Now Camille understood why.
They had not simply been trying to make Derrick look successful.
They had been preparing to use assets that did not belong to them.
Camille called Marcus.
“What exactly did Patricia tell Leonard?””
Marcus sounded frightened.
“She said Derrick's wife had agreed to provide collateral if the financing went through.””
“I never agreed to that.””
“I know.””
“Did Leonard believe her?””
“I couldn't tell. He asked whether there was written confirmation.””
Camille's stomach tightened.
“What did Patricia say?””
“She said you'd signed something.””
Camille looked at the marriage agreement on her desk.
Nobody had ever shown her a collateral agreement.
Nobody had ever asked her to sign one.
“Marcus, did you see the document?””
“No. But Brandon looked terrified when she said it.””
Camille took a slow breath.
“Find out whether they have anything with my name on it.””
“I'll try.””
“And Marcus?””
“Yes?””
“Don't confront them. Just tell me what you learn.””
He agreed.
After the call, Camille checked her email again.
An unfamiliar notification had arrived from the county property records monitoring service she had subscribed to after a neighbor's identity theft incident.
The subject line made her blood run cold.
*New document activity detected for your property.*
She opened it.
The system had detected a recently submitted instrument associated with her home's parcel number.
The filing was still under review, and the notification did not confirm that it was valid or accepted.
But the document description included two words she had never expected to see beside her own address.
*Proposed collateral.*
Camille grabbed her phone.
Before she could call her attorney, another message appeared.
This one came from Derrick.
*Mom says you need to sign something tomorrow. It's just a formality. Don't make this difficult.*
Camille read the message once.
Then she looked at the disputed financial forecast on her laptop.
The false signature.
The nonexistent contracts.
The attempt to connect her house to a loan she had never approved.
Suddenly, the humiliation at dinner seemed almost insignificant.
Her mother-in-law had ordered her away from the table because she believed Camille was useful only when she was paying.
May you like
But somewhere behind that performance, the Whitmores had been building a plan that depended on Camille never asking questions.
Tomorrow, she intended to ask every one of them.
