Not only that, but there was a reason why patrols didn’t pass by the garage so often.
Lila liked slipping out of the compound with as few eyes upon her as possible.
She sent Sutton and McKinley a message anyway, attaching the camera footage and asking for a discreet investigation. Between the pair of them, they had plenty of knowledge and experience to ferret out the culprit.
Unfortunately, she had a compromised doctor to investigate.
Logging onto Randolph General’s network with her own ID, she searched for copies of Rubio’s pay history. The hospital would have the doctor’s bank account information, which would make hacking into her accounts much more straightforward. She’d dig into Rubio’s financials and her personal accounts, finding out exactly what relationship the doctor had with the chairwoman in the process.
Lila sucked in her breath when Rubio’s pay history came up. Somehow, the young doctor received a bonus paycheck every month, marked as overtime in the system. After reviewing the clinic’s schedule, the hours billed for each doctor, and the budget, Lila could not locate the reason or the source for her overtime pay. When she looked further at the payment itself, she found that it was paid out of the Randolph family’s discretionary account.
Lila paced around the room, her boots stamping on the floor as she turned, her sore fingers thumping against her thigh. She spent several weeks wrangling donations every year from the highborn for that money. She used the extra cash for equipment or supplies that department budgets couldn’t quite cover. Occasionally, she even treated departments by stocking their lounge with free food and other gifts as a reward for exceptional service.
Someone had diverted a precious chunk of that money for the last ten months. Not only had Rubio been paid off since her very first day at the hospital, but someone had used the hospital’s own funds to do it.
What had Rubio been doing in the clinic for that extra money, and why had the chairwoman been particularly generous this year with her donation?
Lila returned to her desk, her toe tapping against her chair. She’d always known everything that went on at Randolph General and on every family estate. How could something like this escape her attention? Sure, she’d been stretched thin lately, especially in the last month, but that was no excuse. Very few people even knew about the discretionary account. Only a handful had access to it.
Her mother was at the top of the list.
Lila dismissed that thought immediately. Her mother wouldn’t have bribed Rubio with money, especially from the hospital’s account. Money left a trail that could be traced by other spies. It was sloppy. She would have traded opportunity for favors, especially opportunities that could be taken away on a whim. The chairwoman would have offered Rubio the job, not added bonus payments to it.
So what had happened ten months ago to start the payments? Why would the doctor keep receiving them month after month?
An unpleasant thought struck Lila.
Had Rubio blackmailed her mother?
That was silly, wasn’t it? The chairwoman would not allow herself to be blackmailed, not by a work
born. She’d consider it an insult. She would have summoned her chief the second she received a blackmailer’s demand.
On the other hand, Rubio could be doing something useful for the chairwoman.
Lila squinted at the screen, her mind pinwheeling. Perhaps the reason did not matter much in the short term. What did matter was that her mother had hired Rubio as a spy, and not just a few days ago, either. With such a history, the doctor would certainly tell the chairwoman that she’d asked about Dubois’s medical records. Lila should never have attempted to gain information from someone she had not thoroughly vetted beforehand.
What had she been thinking?
“Wine, anesthesia, pain medication.” Lila ticked off the reasons on her fingers. Clearly, thought had not entered into her decision-making at all.
Following her last lead, Lila sat back at her desk and pulled up the most current list of businesses for the Randolph family, as well as the records for her R&D departments. She knew what she’d find, though. The family did not operate or partner with any agriculture enterprises, nor had the family been pursuing research into NAT or other fertilizers.
Lila turned off her monitor and left her computer searching for the Baron’s ID, the hum of the tower quiet in the room. Wandering over to the closet, she checked the time, which glowed back on the apathetic display, signaling she was already late for dinner.
Lila didn’t care. Her fingers strayed over her beloved militia uniforms and settled on her blackcoat. She brushed the silver stars on her collar and the tiny pinprick hole where one had gone astray. It would now live in Sutton’s pocket, waiting for the day when it would be reattached to a new uniform, for the day that Sutton would take command of the militia.
Her militia.
Lila stamped her foot against the floor, like a spoiled child. It wasn’t fair. She’d worked so hard and given up so much, and now it was all being taken away.
Even Tristan.
She’d never even gotten a chance to say goodbye to her old life properly. All her blackcoats and uniforms would be destroyed in a matter of days, all to make room for the dresses and whitecoats of a prime.
She laid her forehead against her bedroom mirror, wondering if they’d come for them while she was at the Closing Ball. Would they leave any uniforms behind for her to treasure? Just one to remember her old life by? The day she’d arrived at Bullstow for militia training and been fitted for her first blackcoat. The day she’d run after her first intruder in the Randolph compound, hoping he didn’t have a tranq gun or knife or worse. The day she’d received her first militia commission and had to learn how to manage a group who considered themselves different from the other highborn on the property.
All those days had been just as sweet as the day she’d been made chief.