Chapter 4 - THE ACCESS I FORGOT TO REMOVE
I called ColeShield's CFO from the kitchen.
Priya Shah answered on the second ring.
“Please tell me you're calling about Chicago and not the banking alert.”
“Banking alert.”
She went quiet.
That scared me more than panic would have.
“What happened?”
“Someone attempted a transfer approval.”
“How much?”
“Forty-eight thousand.”
My chest tightened.
“Recipient?”
“RMC Strategic Consulting.”
I didn't recognize it.
Priya continued.
“The request failed because it required your approval token.”
“Who initiated it?”
“We're pulling logs.”
I sat down.
Years earlier, when ColeShield was four people working above a dentist's office in Raleigh, my father had been an authorized backup signer on our operating account.
I traveled constantly then.
Richard had run a regional construction company and understood payroll better than I did.
He helped.
When the company grew, we hired real finance staff.
I stopped thinking about his access.
I never formally removed every old permission.
Priya knew that.
“We've been cleaning up legacy permissions since last quarter,” she said carefully.
“Was my father still in there?”
“Limited access. Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
There were things nobody could blame Richard for.
This was one of them.
I had built a cybersecurity company while leaving a stale financial credential attached to my own father because confronting him about boundaries felt uncomfortable.
The irony was almost insulting.
Clara sat across from me.
She didn't say I told you so.
That made it worse.
Priya locked every nonessential account and notified the bank.
Then she said, “There's something else.”
During my Chicago trip, ColeShield's identity system had sent three multifactor-authentication prompts to my phone.
I remembered dismissing them.
I assumed one was Priya.
Another was probably the accounting system.
The third had arrived at 1:14 a.m.
I hadn't asked.
“Could those be connected?”
“We'll know when the audit team checks.”
After the call, Clara said, “Your father asked me where you kept your hardware security key.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did you say?”
“That I didn't know.”
She hesitated.
“He said the company would eventually belong to the family anyway.”
Something about the sentence bothered me.
Not eventually belong to Toby.
Not belong to us.
The family.
I opened the power-of-attorney document again.
Richard had not downloaded a generic form.
A Raleigh law office had prepared it.
At the bottom was a contact name.
I knew him.
Martin Bell had represented my father's construction company years ago.
I called Martin's office.
His assistant confirmed Richard had requested the draft.
“On whose instructions?”
There was a long pause.
“Mr. Cole represented that you wanted to appoint him.”
I looked at the signature line waiting for my name.
My father had not forged anything.
Not yet.
May you like
But he had prepared authority for himself and told other people I had requested it.
That meant tomorrow's meeting had never been about estate planning.
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