Chapter 28 - The Sins of the Father
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"What are you looking at?"
Elena had quietly entered the study, standing behind my chair. I didn't try to hide the screen. We had built our relationship on absolute transparency, a deliberate rebellion against the toxic secrecy of my family.
She leaned down, her eyes tracking the highlighted numbers. I felt her breath hitch.
"Arthur... is this real?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "Did you use Julian's embezzled funds to start the housing project?"
"No," I said instantly, spinning the chair to face her. "Elena, I swear to you, I didn't touch a dime of that dirty money. When I took over that subsidiary, I ordered a full sweep. I found those transfers and immediately sequestered the funds in a blind escrow account pending the federal investigation. I used my own clean capital, money I made before I ever took the CEO seat, to seed our project."
"Then why does this document show the routing numbers linking the dirty money to our foundation?"
"Because someone altered the internal ledger before it was submitted to the feds," I realized, the horrifying truth dawning on me. "Someone framed the subsidiary to look like a laundering hub, and they deliberately left my digital fingerprint on the authorization."
"Julian," Elena breathed, her eyes widening in realization. "He set you up. He knew the feds were closing in, so he created a fail-safe. He planted evidence making it look like you were complicit in moving the stolen money to fund your 'charity' work."
"It's the perfect leverage," I muttered, running a hand aggressively through my hair. "If this document goes public, the federal government will seize the housing project under RICO statutes. The banks will pull our financing. The press will crucify us. Everything we built will be branded as a cynical money-laundering scheme."
"But Julian is in federal prison," Elena pointed out, logic fighting against panic. "He's serving a ten-year sentence. He doesn't have the resources to orchestrate a blackmail campaign from a cell block."
"He doesn't," I agreed, staring at the flashing cursor on the screen. "But he knows someone who does. Someone who hates me enough to use his weapon."
May you like
My mother.
Beatrice Vance hadn't forgiven me for walking away. She hadn't forgiven me for letting her golden child go to prison. She had just been waiting for the right moment to strike.
