Chapter 15 - PEYTON’S SECOND DEAL
Harper had not seen Peyton in two years.
Not in person.
There had been letters.
Restitution payments.
A birthday card for Chloe that Harper returned unopened at Chloe’s request.
One apology message after Ava turned three.
No demands.
No visits.
Now Peyton stood inside the nonprofit office connected to another fraud.
Madeline closed the door.
“Sit.”
Peyton obeyed.
That alone showed change.
Old Peyton would have argued about tone before explaining the emergency.
Harper remained across the table.
“What is Vale Family Recovery Services?”
Peyton looked at her hands.
“A company Martin asked me to register.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“While you were still on probation?”
“Yes.”
Madeline’s expression could have cut glass.
“You understand that may violate your financial restrictions.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you do it?”
Peyton swallowed.
“He said it was consulting work for helping women rebuild credit.”
“And you believed him?”
“No.”
Harper stared.
Peyton continued.
“I needed money.”
There it was.
Not excuse.
Fact.
“Why didn’t you call your probation officer?”
“Because I knew they would say no.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Peyton looked up.
“Because I finally understood you were not my emergency fund.”
The answer did not forgive the choice.
But it was honest.
Peyton opened the canvas bag.
Inside were printed emails, a prepaid phone, and one external hard drive.
“Martin paid me to create the company, sign vendor invoices, and forward transfers.”
“How much?”
“Six thousand.”
Harper closed her eyes.
Peyton whispered, “I spent two.”
“On what?”
“Rent.”
Of course.
The same word.
The same door.
But this time, Peyton did not ask Harper to pay it.
She brought the evidence instead.
“What happened to the other four?”
“I didn’t touch it.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw Chloe’s name.”
Harper’s eyes opened.
Peyton pushed forward an invoice.
The payment description read:
Minor account tracing and paternal recovery assessment.
Client beneficiary:
Ava Collins.
Harper’s blood went cold.
“What does this have to do with Ava’s father?”
“Martin was locating absent parents connected to women in the program. He said it was for support enforcement.”
Madeline leaned forward.
“It was not.”
“No.”
Peyton looked at Harper.
“He sold information.”
“To whom?”
“Debt collectors. Private investigators. Sometimes family members.”
Harper heard the smart lock.
The old foyer.
Richard’s hand.
Family entering because they believed blood was authorization.
Martin had turned a safe-house intake system into a map.
Addresses.
Children.
Custody details.
Financial vulnerabilities.
“He gave Ava’s father our location?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said he knows where he is.”
“He contacted him.”
“Why?”
Peyton’s voice shook.
“To challenge your foundation authority.”
Harper stared.
The Collins Record Fund trust document allowed Harper sole control while Ava was a minor and Chloe remained medically dependent.
If a biological parent proved Harper concealed assets, mishandled support, or blocked lawful custody, the court could appoint temporary independent oversight.
Martin did not only want money.
He wanted control of the fund.
“He offered Ava’s father a percentage,” Peyton said.
Madeline stood.
“We contact federal investigators now.”
Peyton nodded.
“I already called my probation officer.”
Harper looked at her.
Peyton’s eyes filled.
“I know this does not fix anything.”
“No.”
“I know you may never trust me.”
“Yes.”
“But I did not want him using Ava the way we used Chloe.”
Harper looked at her sister for a long time.
Then asked the only question that mattered immediately.
“Did you bring all the records?”
May you like
Peyton slid the hard drive across the table.
“Yes.”
