Chapter 4 - THE CONTRACT SHE NEVER READ“Yes.”
It looked like the aftermath of a corporate raid decorated with roses.
Half the guests had left.
The other half lingered because wealthy people are no less curious than anyone else. They're simply better at pretending curiosity is concern.
Victoria stood near the dance floor surrounded by bridesmaids who had no idea whether they were supposed to comfort her or distance themselves from a scandal.
Charles remained in a private conference room with federal investigators.
Alexander had been taken downstairs.
My mother wanted to leave.
“You don't owe anyone another minute,” she told me.
“I know.”
“But you're staying.”
“I need one answer.”
She studied me.
“What does she know?”
That was why Margaret had spent thirty-seven years teaching children.
She understood what people were trying not to say.
“Yes.”
My attorney, Rebecca Sloan, arrived twenty minutes later.
She carried a slim black folder.
Rebecca had been my general counsel for eight years. She didn't attend weddings unless contracts required witnesses, and she looked deeply irritated by the ballroom décor.
“Nathan.”
“Rebecca.”
She glanced toward Victoria.
“I assume subtlety is no longer part of the evening.”
“Not really.”
“Good.”
Victoria spotted us.
She approached immediately.
“You brought your lawyer to our wedding?”
“She was invited.”
“You told me she was a business associate.”
“She is.”
Victoria looked at Rebecca.
“Did you send those photographs?”
“No.”
“Did Nathan hire someone to follow me?”
Rebecca's expression never changed.
“No.”
That surprised Victoria.
It had surprised me too.
The photographs had arrived anonymously.
No return address.
No note.
Only pictures and a flash drive.
Rebecca placed the folder on a table.
“The drive contained internal financial records from Ashford Capital.”
Victoria looked toward the conference room.
“What records?”
“Transfers.”
“To who?”
Rebecca opened the folder.
Several companies had received money from Ashford Capital over eighteen months.
The names meant nothing at first.
Bellshore Consulting.
VC Meridian.
Northpoint Hospitality.
And Everlight Ventures.
Victoria looked bored.
“So?”
Rebecca pointed at Everlight.
“Who owns this?”
“No idea.”
“You're listed as a beneficial owner.”
The color left Victoria's face.
I watched her carefully.
There it was.
Recognition.
Rebecca saw it too.
“You do know.”
Victoria swallowed.
“My father created some companies for estate planning.”
“Everlight received eleven million dollars.”
“I wouldn't know anything about that.”
“Three transfers were authorized with your electronic signature.”
“That could've been automated.”
Rebecca took out another page.
“This authorization was signed physically.”
Victoria stared at her signature.
Her confidence cracked.
“I sign things for Dad.”
“What did he tell you it was?”
“Tax planning.”
“Did you read it?”
“No.”
“Victoria,” I said quietly.
She looked at me.
“Tell the truth.”
“I am.”
“You knew something.”
She folded her arms.
“You've already decided I'm terrible, so why does it matter?”
“Because your father may be going to prison.”
Her chin trembled.
“My father would never steal.”
Rebecca responded.
“He appears to have transferred investor funds into companies connected to personal expenses.”
Victoria's eyes flashed.
“No.”
“The federal government seems interested.”
“You're enjoying this.”
Rebecca blinked.
“No. I charge by the hour.”
I almost smiled.
Victoria did not.
Then Rebecca placed one final document on the table.
A wire authorization.
$2.4 million.
Recipient: Bellamy Events Group.
Wedding expenses.
Victoria's wedding expenses.
She sat down.
“No.”
I looked at the document.
“You told me your father paid the deposit.”
“He said he did.”
“Where did the money actually come from?”
Rebecca answered.
“Ashford investor accounts.”
Victoria covered her mouth.
For the first time, horror looked genuine.
The wedding she had spent a year bragging about had apparently been partially funded by money that never belonged to her family.
My anger shifted.
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
I believed her.
Then she said something that made me reconsider.
“I thought Alexander fixed it.”
Rebecca and I looked at each other.
“What did Alexander fix?” I asked.
Victoria closed her eyes.
“Three months ago, Dad said there was a temporary problem with the wedding account.”
“What kind of problem?”
“He said some investors had delayed payments. I told Alexander I couldn't have vendors finding out.”
“And?”
“He said he would move money temporarily.”
Rebecca's voice sharpened.
“From where?”
“I didn't ask!”
“You signed authorizations.”
“I sign dozens of things.”
“You're a thirty-one-year-old woman, Victoria, not a child.”
Victoria slammed her hand on the table.
“I trusted them!”
“Congratulations,” I said. “So did I.”
She looked at me.
That hurt her.
Good.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because sometimes pain is the first thing capable of breaking denial.
Victoria began crying.
Not the elegant crying from romantic movies.
Her shoulders shook.
Mascara darkened beneath her eyes.
“I didn't know.”
My mother approached.
For one absurd moment, Victoria looked embarrassed to cry in front of her.
Margaret handed her a napkin anyway.
Victoria took it.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
My mother answered simply.
“Because you're hurting.”
Victoria stared at her.
“After what I said?”
“Yes.”
That made her cry harder.
I turned away.
I wasn't ready to forgive Victoria.
But I wasn't interested in destroying her either.
Those were different things.
Across the ballroom, Agent Monroe appeared.
“Nathan Mercer?”
I walked toward him.
“Can we speak privately?”
We entered a smaller lounge.
Rebecca followed.
Monroe closed the door.
“You're aware Mercer Holdings holds significant Ashford debt?”
“Yes.”
“Were you aware Ashford was using new investor funds to cover older obligations?”
“No.”
He watched me carefully.
“We believe someone inside Ashford Capital has been running a fraudulent investment structure for at least four years.”
Four years.
Before I'd met Victoria.
“Charles?”
“We're not prepared to identify suspects.”
“What about Alexander?”
“Same answer.”
Rebecca asked, “Why approach Nathan?”
Monroe placed a photograph on the table.
A man leaving Ashford Capital's offices.
I recognized him.
“Thomas Vane.”
My former chief financial officer.
Rebecca swore.
Thomas had worked for Mercer Industrial Group for twelve years before resigning unexpectedly eighteen months ago.
Then he'd disappeared from my professional world.
“What does he have to do with Ashford?”
Monroe leaned back.
“We hoped you could tell us.”
“I can't.”
“He's been consulting for them.”
“Since when?”
“Almost two years.”
My stomach tightened.
Before Thomas left my company.
Rebecca understood immediately.
“If Vane had access to Mercer systems while advising Ashford—”
“He could've known exactly how much Nathan was willing to inject,” Monroe said.
Meaning someone may have manipulated both companies.
I thought of the anonymous envelope.
The photographs.
The flash drive.
Someone wanted the truth exposed tonight.
“Who sent me the package?”
“We don't know.”
“Did you know about it?”
“No.”
Monroe stood.
“But whoever sent it may have saved you a great deal of money.”
He reached the door.
Then stopped.
“And possibly saved you from something worse.”
“What?”
“We found a draft document in Alexander Crane's files this afternoon.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“What document?”
“A marital asset agreement.”
I frowned.
“We already signed a prenup.”
“Not that kind of agreement.”
Monroe looked directly at me.
“It appears Mr. Crane expected Mrs. Ashford—assuming your marriage became legal—to obtain authorization over certain Mercer family assets.”
My chest went cold.
Victoria.
Alexander.
The affair.
My company.
Suddenly the humiliation at the wedding seemed almost irrelevant.
“Was she involved?”
“We don't know.”
I left the lounge.
Victoria was still sitting where I'd left her.
She saw my face.
“What happened?”
I walked toward her.
“Did Alexander ever ask you about my trust?”
May you like
Her eyes widened.
And once again, she didn't answer quickly enough.
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