Chapter 5 - The Price of His Name
Lydia had spent thirty years preparing rooms before other people entered them.
By the time Vincent reached the foundation’s boardroom, printed allegations waited at every seat.
Conflict of interest.
Misuse of charitable resources.
Inappropriate involvement with a contracted vendor.
Evelyn recognized the language from the gossip post.
Someone had dressed the same accusation in better clothes.
She had agreed to attend only long enough to address her contract. Her attorney joined by video. Caroline sat beside her, back straight and expression dangerous.
Lydia stood at the head of the table.
“This foundation serves children,” she began. “It cannot become an instrument of Vincent’s personal impulses.”
Vincent remained seated.
“Then let’s discuss Harbor House.”
A brief silence.
Lydia adjusted one sheet of paper.
“That property matter is unrelated.”
“You told us it was awaiting clearance. Why is there a transfer agreement?”
“A preliminary restructuring.”
“To Vale Urban Partners.”
Several board members looked up.
The foundation’s outside accountant, Denise Shaw, reached for her glasses.
“I haven’t reviewed any proposed transfer.”
“It had not reached that stage,” Lydia said.
Vincent placed a copy of the photographed document on the table.
“Then explain the signature page.”
Lydia looked at Evelyn.
The hatred arrived without any change in her smile.
“You’ve been remarkably busy for a photographer.”
Evelyn’s pulse pounded.
“I was hired to notice things.”
Caroline made a small sound that might have been approval.
Vincent requested an independent audit and Lydia’s temporary suspension from financial authority.
Lydia requested his removal as chair.
The vote was postponed after Denise refused to certify financial statements without reviewing the Harbor House records.
It was a delay, not a victory.
Outside the room, Lydia caught Evelyn near the elevators.
“Your father mistook stubbornness for integrity, too.”
Evelyn stopped.
“What happened to him?”
“An accident.”
“Then why are you afraid of his photographs?”
For the first time, Lydia’s composure cracked.
Only for a second.
But Evelyn saw it.
That evening, Vincent’s largest lender requested a meeting. A freight client suspended negotiations. An anonymous source told a business reporter that Rourke Freight faced serious undisclosed liabilities.
Lydia did not need to shout.
She knew where every wire ran.
At nine, Evelyn found Vincent alone in his office, jacket off, tie loosened.
He looked older than he had that morning.
“You can go home,” he said.
“So can you.”
“Apparently I own several buildings. None currently feels like a good choice.”
She set two takeout containers on his desk.
“Caroline says people make worse decisions when they forget dinner.”
“Caroline dislikes me.”
“Caroline dislikes uncertainty. You’re a substantial amount of it.”
They ate sitting on the office floor because the desk was covered in documents.
For a while, the only subject was whether the dumplings were too salty.
Then Vincent said, “My father hit my mother once.”
Evelyn lowered her chopsticks.
“I was sixteen. I stepped between them. Afterward, he told everyone I had a temper.”
She waited.
“He never touched her again. But I learned something terrible that night.”
“What?”
“That frightening someone could work.”
His eyes remained on the window.
“People started giving me space. Eventually, I stopped asking whether it was respect.”
Evelyn set her container aside.
“Being hurt explains where something starts. You still get to decide where it ends.”
He nodded slowly.
“I’m trying.”
“I can see that.”
He looked at her then, and the loneliness she had photographed no longer seemed quite so sealed away.
His phone buzzed against the carpet.
A message from Connor.
Need to tell you something. In person.
Vincent called immediately.
No answer.
Evelyn’s phone rang next.
Caroline.
“The studio was broken into.”
Evelyn stood so fast her container tipped.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. Nobody was here.”
“What did they take?”
A pause.
“Your external drives. Only yours.”
Vincent rose beside her.
Evelyn looked at the documents scattered across his desk.
The originals were safe.
The evidence had copies.
May you like
But someone had entered the place where she worked and chosen exactly what to steal.
For the first time, the danger had an address she knew.
