Her Son’s Fiancée Laughed When Her Father Offered Me a Toilet-Cleaning Job—But Monday Morning
PART 3
I looked through my windshield at the beautiful estate behind me. Through the enormous windows, I could still see Richard laughing with his guests. Vanessa stood beside him, holding a glass of champagne.
“They offered me a job cleaning their company toilets.” Rebecca didn’t laugh. Instead, she said something that made me sit up straighter.
“Margaret, there have been some concerns about Richard’s division. I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to bring them to your attention.”
My fingers tightened around the phone. “What kind of concerns?”
“Financial irregularities. Unusual vendor payments. Several employee complaints. Nothing has been conclusively established, but the numbers deserve attention.”
I stared at the road ahead.
“Send everything to my office before Monday.”
“Understood.”
“And Rebecca?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t tell anyone I’m coming.”
“Of course.”
I ended the call and sat silently for a moment.
I had spent thirty-two years building Collins Industrial Holdings from a small manufacturing operation into a company employing thousands of people.
My late husband, James, had believed in the business when nobody else did.
He used to tell me that the true measure of a successful company wasn’t the number of zeros in its bank account.
It was how many families could depend on it.
That was why I had never been particularly interested in executive titles, expensive offices, or appearing on magazine covers.
I wanted the company to work.
I wanted honest people to have opportunities.
And I wanted the people who worked on factory floors, loading docks, and production lines to be treated with dignity.
Apparently, Richard Whitmore had forgotten that lesson.
But I wasn’t going to make a decision simply because he had insulted me.
I was going to find out what kind of man he really was.
And if the documents Rebecca promised me were accurate, his behavior at dinner might turn out to be the smallest of his problems.
Saturday morning, I woke up at seven.
My little cottage was quiet. Sunlight came through the kitchen curtains, and the smell of fresh coffee filled the room.
I watered my roses, fed the birds, and prepared breakfast.
It was an ordinary morning.
At least, it would have been if my phone hadn’t started ringing.
Daniel.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
He sounded tired.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He hesitated.
“About last night…”
I sighed gently.
“Daniel, don’t start apologizing again.”
“I can’t believe Richard spoke to you like that.”
“He was trying to impress his guests.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Daniel was quiet for a moment.
Then he said, “Vanessa told me her father was only joking.”
I put down my coffee.
“And what did you say?”
“I told her it wasn’t funny.”
“Good.”
“Mom, I also wanted to ask you something.”
I waited.
“Are you really struggling financially?”
I almost smiled.
Not because the question offended me, but because I understood exactly where it had come from.
“Why do you ask?”
“Vanessa said something after you left. She said her parents were worried about our future because you might eventually need financial support.”
I looked around my comfortable kitchen.
My refrigerator was full. My mortgage had been paid off years earlier. My investments were managed by a team of professionals, and my company was worth more than I could reasonably spend in several lifetimes.
But my son didn’t know any of that.
“Daniel, are you worried about supporting me?”
“No! Of course not. You’re my mother.”
“Then why does it matter what Vanessa’s parents think?”
He exhaled.
“I just don’t want this to become a problem between us.”
I softened my voice.
“Listen to me, sweetheart. A marriage should bring two families together, not turn them into competing bank accounts.”
“I know.”
“And never allow anyone to make you feel ashamed of where you came from.”
“I won’t.”
We spoke for another few minutes before hanging up.
I wanted to tell him everything.
I wanted to explain that the woman Vanessa believed was a struggling widow had built the company her father proudly managed.
But something stopped me.
Daniel needed to discover the truth about the people he was choosing to build his future with.
I couldn’t make that decision for him.
By Saturday afternoon, Rebecca had sent me the first batch of documents.
I sat in my home office and opened the files.
The first report concerned Richard’s division.
At first glance, everything looked impressive.
Revenue was up. Production costs were down. Quarterly profits had exceeded expectations.
Richard’s performance reviews were filled with glowing language.
Exceptional leadership.
Outstanding operational efficiency.
Strong financial discipline.
But when I examined the supporting documents, the picture became less impressive.
There were payments to several consulting companies I didn’t recognize.
One company had received nearly $780,000 over eighteen months for services described as operational optimization.
Another had been paid more than $1.2 million for logistics consulting.
I looked through the invoices.
The descriptions were vague.
The addresses were suspiciously similar.
And two of the companies appeared to share the same registered business contact.
I called Rebecca.
“Have you looked into these vendors?”
“Yes. Our preliminary review found that several were established within the last three years.”
“Who approved the payments?”
“Richard’s department authorized most of them. Some were approved directly by his finance director.”
“Were the services actually performed?”
“That’s what we’re investigating.”
I leaned back.
“Continue.”
Rebecca turned another page in her notes.
“There is also an issue with employee compensation.”
“What issue?”
“Several workers reported that their overtime payments were reduced without explanation. Others complained about unsafe equipment and delayed maintenance.”
“Were those complaints addressed?”
“Some were closed without a documented investigation.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“How many employees?”
“Thirty-seven formal complaints over two years. We also found several resignations that mentioned the same problems.”
I closed my eyes.
Thirty-seven people.
Thirty-seven families.
Thirty-seven situations in which someone had apparently tried to speak up and been ignored.
“Rebecca, I want an independent investigation. Not one conducted by Richard’s people.”
“Already arranging it.”
“And freeze any new payments to those questionable vendors until the review is complete.”
“Understood.”
