Chapter 3 - THIRTY-TWO MILLION DOLLARS
At 2:17 the next morning, I was sitting in my father’s library with Maya asleep against my chest when Margaret Hale placed a folder on the table.
“Before we continue,” she said, “you need to understand that this is bigger than adultery.”
I looked at the folder.
“I figured that out around thirty-two million dollars.”
My father stood at the window.
We were at Hawthorne House, the estate where I had grown up outside Boston. The place had always seemed enormous when I was a child.
That night, it felt safe.
I hated how badly I needed that feeling.
Serena sat across the room with Daniel nearby.
She had changed out of Julian’s shirt and into clothes one of the staff had found for her.
Without the emerald necklace, expensive coat, and confidence, she looked younger.
And terrified.
My father turned.
“Start from the beginning.”
Serena wiped her face.
“Julian told me there was a special acquisition fund.”
“What fund?” Margaret asked.
“Project Northstar.”
My father looked at Daniel.
Daniel’s expression told me the name meant something.
“What?” I asked.
My father hesitated.
“Northstar was the internal code name for tomorrow’s merger.”
My stomach tightened.
That information was restricted.
“How did Julian get access?”
“He was on the integration committee.”
Margaret opened her laptop.
“Serena, what exactly did he ask you to do?”
“At first? Nothing illegal. Calendar changes. Hotel reservations. Copies of presentations.”
“And later?”
“He asked me to approve vendor invoices.”
“Which vendors?”
Serena listed three companies.
Margaret typed them.
Daniel left the room and returned minutes later.
“Two are shell corporations.”
My father’s jaw hardened.
“And the third?”
“Dissolved eighteen months ago.”
Serena began crying again.
“I didn’t know.”
I watched her.
Part of me wanted to hate her cleanly.
It would have been easier.
She had slept with my husband.
She had worn my mother’s jewelry.
She had stood behind Julian while he humiliated me.
But betrayal has an inconvenient habit of refusing to stay simple.
“You knew he was married,” I said.
Her eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
“You knew he had a newborn.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t tell me you didn’t know anything.”
She flinched.
Good.
I needed her to.
“But,” I continued, “if he used you to commit financial crimes, tell the truth now.”
She looked up.
My father glanced at me.
I knew that look.
He had expected rage.
Instead, I had given Serena a door.
Whether she walked through it was her decision.
She did.
“There’s a second phone.”
Julian had kept it inside a locked compartment beneath the spare tire of his Mercedes.
Daniel dispatched someone to retrieve it.
By dawn, the first pieces were coming together.
Julian had not merely been stealing.
He had been preparing.
For months, funds had moved through consulting agreements and fraudulent vendors. Some transactions had been blocked automatically.
Others had succeeded.
But the most alarming discovery was a scheduled transfer.
Thirty-two million dollars.
Set for 9:00 a.m.
The same time the merger vote was supposed to begin.
“Can we stop it?” I asked.
“We already did,” my father said.
That should have comforted me.
It didn’t.
“Why would he need thirty-two million?”
Margaret looked toward Serena.
Serena whispered, “He said after tomorrow he’d never have to answer to anyone again.”
My phone rang.
Julian.
Everyone looked at it.
I declined the call.
It rang again.
Then a message appeared.
WE NEED TO TALK. ALONE.
Another followed.
YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT YOUR FATHER HAS DONE.
My father saw my expression.
“What?”
I handed him the phone.
His face revealed nothing.
Then a third message arrived.
ASK HIM ABOUT YOUR MOTHER’S ACCIDENT.
My breathing stopped.
My mother, Caroline, had died eleven years earlier when her car went through a guardrail during heavy rain.
The police called it an accident.
My father had barely spoken about that night since.
I looked at him.
“Dad?”
His face had gone gray.
“What is he talking about?”
“Elena—”
“What is he talking about?”
Serena stared between us.
Margaret quietly closed her laptop.
My father sat down.
“There are things about your mother’s death I never told you.”
The room suddenly felt too small.
“Was it an accident?”
“I believed it was.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Your mother was investigating financial irregularities inside Vance Industries before she died.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She chaired the ethics committee.”
I knew that.
“She discovered a network of shell companies.”
My eyes moved toward Margaret.
She looked uncomfortable.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone knew except me?”
My father said, “You were twenty-three and grieving.”
“I was an adult.”
“I know.”
“No, apparently you didn’t.”
Maya stirred.
I lowered my voice immediately.
My father looked at his granddaughter and then back at me.
“Caroline believed someone inside the company was laundering money through acquisitions. She never identified who. Three days before she was supposed to present her findings, she died.”
A chill ran through me.
“And you never told me?”
“There was no evidence connecting the two.”
“But you suspected it.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“Who?”
My father hesitated.
That hesitation frightened me more than any answer.
“Dad.”
“Victor Mercer.”
I stopped.
Julian’s father.
The man who had introduced us.
Victor Mercer had been my father’s closest business partner for almost thirty years.
He had died two years after my mother.
Suddenly memories rearranged themselves.
Victor encouraging Julian to ask me out.
Victor laughing at our wedding.
Victor telling me my mother would have been proud.
I felt sick.
“Did Julian know?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang again.
This time, I answered.
“Julian.”
“Elena.”
His voice was different.
No arrogance.
No performance.
“Ask your father why he hired investigators to follow mine.”
I looked at Richard.
“He already told me.”
Silence.
Then Julian laughed softly.
“Of course he gave you his version.”
“What do you want?”
“To save myself.”
“At least you’re finally honest.”
“And maybe you.”
I almost hung up.
Then he said something that stopped me.
“The thirty-two million isn’t mine.”
“What?”
“I was moving it because someone told me to.”
“Who?”
“I won’t say over the phone.”
“Then enjoy talking to federal investigators.”
“Elena, listen to me. Your father thinks Victor Mercer built the shell network.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
Julian breathed slowly.
“I have proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That your mother discovered the wrong person.”
My father was watching me.
“Who?” I asked.
Julian lowered his voice.
“The person who ordered those transfers is still inside Vance Industries.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Name.”
“No. Not until I have protection.”
“You threw your daughter’s crib onto a lawn six hours ago, Julian. Don’t ask me to protect you.”
“I know.”
For the first time, shame entered his voice.
It came far too late.
But it was there.
Then he whispered:
“Elena, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The person behind this knows Richard came to get you tonight.”
My blood chilled.
“How?”
“Because someone inside your father’s security team told them.”
Across the room, Daniel Cho’s phone suddenly buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?” my father demanded.
Daniel looked directly at me.
“The security system just detected movement at your house.”
“Julian’s there.”
“No,” Daniel said.
“Julian is still at the hotel where we placed him.”
My father straightened.
Daniel turned the screen around.
A camera showed a masked figure entering Maya’s nursery.
The person walked directly toward the empty crib space.
Then toward the closet.
He wasn’t searching randomly.
He knew exactly what he wanted.
And suddenly I remembered something I had hidden there months earlier.
May you like
Something my mother had left behind.
A locked wooden box I had never managed to open.
