Chapter 51 - The Four-Hundred-Million-Dollar Lie
Four hundred million dollars.
That was the amount Samuel believed had been transferred through the disputed account arrangements after Richard Hale's death.
For hours, we examined the records.
Some transactions had plausible explanations.
Others did not.
Several listed Richard as an authorizing party despite occurring after his death.
Evelyn was careful.
"An accounting entry naming a deceased person doesn't automatically establish fraud. We need the actual authorization documents and transaction history."
Grayson nodded.
"Then get them through the appropriate process."
I studied one particular entry.
The payment had been routed through a company called Northstar Strategic Holdings.
Its registered representative was an attorney.
Malcolm Pierce.
Again.
The man appeared everywhere.
Beside Andrew's meeting invitation.
In the administration of the disputed account.
In the attempted acquisition.
And now in the transfers made after Richard died.
"Do you think Pierce is coordinating this?" I asked.
Evelyn folded her arms.
"He may be involved in several connected matters. We shouldn't assign a role until the evidence supports it."
I nodded.
That night, I sat beside Grace while she worked on a school project.
She was creating a family tree.
Her teacher had encouraged the children to include the people who mattered most to them.
Grace had interpreted that generously.
There were branches for Grayson and me.
Amelia.
Alexandra.
Oliver.
Natalie.
Even Patricia.
I laughed.
"Sweetheart, Patricia isn't technically related to us."
Grace looked offended.
"She makes my pancakes."
"A compelling argument."
"And she loves me."
I smiled.
"That she does."
Grace pointed to an empty branch.
"Can Uncle Andrew go here?"
My throat tightened.
"Of course."
"But he's in heaven."
I brushed her hair back.
"People can still belong to our family even when they aren't here anymore."
Grace thought about that.
Then she drew a bright yellow star beside Andrew's name.
"Now he has a light."
I kissed her forehead.
Later, I showed the drawing to Grayson.
He stared at it for a long time.
Then he whispered, "She makes everything so much clearer."
I leaned against him.
"Children have a way of doing that."
He wrapped his arms around me.
"Claire, if we lose the company—"
"We haven't lost it."
"I know. But if we do?"
I looked up.
"Then we build another life."
He smiled sadly.
"You make that sound easy."
"It wouldn't be easy."
I touched his cheek.
"But we're not married to a company. We're married to each other."
He kissed me.
Then his phone rang.
Evelyn had urgent news.
An independent forensic review had uncovered communications suggesting Pierce arranged several of the disputed transactions.
More importantly, the financial investigators had requested additional records from entities connected to Sebastian.
The inquiry was expanding.
The following morning, Sebastian appeared on television again.
This time, his expression was less confident.
Reporters questioned him about the historical transfers.
He insisted his companies had followed appropriate procedures.
He refused to discuss the ongoing review.
I watched silently.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Victoria Crane.
He called me last night.
I typed back.
What did he want?
Her reply arrived immediately.
He offered to withdraw his threats against Lily if I stopped cooperating.
I felt anger rise.
Did you tell investigators?
Yes.
Then another message appeared.
Claire, I need you to know something.
Sebastian said the Hale family isn't the real target.
My heart tightened.
Then who is?
Victoria's answer made my stomach turn.
The people who can prove what happened after Richard died.
I looked toward Grayson's office.
Thomas Keene.
Victor Sloane.
Margaret Ellis.
Victoria herself.
And perhaps Alexandra.
We had been treating the financial records as the target.
Now I understood the witnesses might be in greater danger than the money.
I immediately contacted Evelyn.
She arranged for the information to be shared with the authorities and for the relevant witnesses to be notified.
But before the arrangements were complete, Thomas Keene called.
His voice was trembling.
"Claire, someone came to my house."
My heart stopped.
"Are you safe?"
"For now."
"Did you call the police?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
He took a shaky breath.
"They left something on my porch."
"What?"
"A photograph of Rebecca."
May you like
Then he whispered:
"She's been missing since yesterday."
