PART 4
I paused.
“Yours. Hers. Theirs.”
He nodded slowly.
“And if they change?”
“Then you decide whether the change is real.”
He was quiet.
Then he said, “I think Jessica is real.”
“I think so too.”
He looked at me.
“You like her?”
“I do.”
“Even after tonight?”
“Especially after tonight.”
He smiled.
“Why?”
“Because she defended you when she had nothing to gain.”
He nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
Three days passed.
Then Richard called.
I almost didn’t answer.
But I did.
“Thomas.”
“Richard.”
“I’d like to meet.”
“For what?”
“Business.”
I looked out the window.
“Then call my office.”
“I already did.”
“Good.”
“They said you were unavailable.”
“I am.”
There was silence.
Then he said something I hadn’t expected.
“I need your help.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The moment every powerful man eventually reaches.
The moment pride becomes too expensive.
“What kind of help?”
“Riverside is in trouble.”
“I know.”
“Our lender is calling the note.”
“Yes.”
“Without refinancing, we’ll have to sell.”
“That may be the correct business decision.”
“It would destroy the company.”
“No. It would change ownership.”
“You know what I mean.”
I did.
He wasn’t asking for charity.
He was asking me to save what he had spent decades building.
“What happened?”
“The Hartford deal.”
“You overextended.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said, “I was trying to keep up.”
“With whom?”
“Everyone.”
That answer told me more than a financial report could.
“Richard.”
“Yes?”
“If you want me involved, I need everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Every debt. Every contract. Every private obligation. Every partnership agreement. Every payment to family members. Everything.”
Silence.
“You want my books.”
“I want the truth.”
Another silence.
Then:
“You’ll have it.”
“Good.”
“And Thomas?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
I hung up.
I didn’t feel victorious.
I felt tired.
Because I knew something Richard didn’t.
Money was rarely the most dangerous thing in a family.
Secrets were.
The next morning, my attorney arrived with three boxes.
“Riverside?”
“Yes.”
He placed them on my desk.
“There’s something unusual.”
“What?”
“Several payments were made from Riverside Development to a consulting company.”
“Which one?”
“Bradford Strategic Advisory.”
I frowned.
“Owned by Christopher?”
“That’s what I thought.”
“How much?”
He opened the folder.
“Over four million dollars in eighteen months.”
I leaned back.
“Consulting for what?”
“That’s the problem.”
“There are no supporting reports.”
I stared at the documents.
“Could be sloppy accounting.”
“Could be.”
My attorney hesitated.
“But there is something else.”
He handed me another document.
A wire transfer.
Then another.
And another.
All sent to the same company.
“Where did the money go?”
“Offshore account.”
I looked at him.
“Whose?”
“We’re still tracing it.”
I picked up my phone.
“Find out.”
“Already working on it.”
He stood.
At the door, he stopped.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“The company receiving the money was incorporated three weeks before Christopher became CFO.”
I looked back at the documents.
Three weeks.
That wasn’t random.
“Keep digging.”
He nodded.
After he left, I sat alone.
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