Chapter 7 - The Man in the Glass Office
Victor Kane agreed to meet only after Priya threatened to subpoena every record connected to Bellwether Capital. His office occupied the top floor of a building downtown, all glass walls and gray carpet. A framed photograph of Victor shaking hands with the mayor hung behind his desk.
He was younger than I expected, perhaps forty-five, with a soft voice and expensive shoes. He gestured toward a chair.
“Mrs. Rourke—”
“Bellamy,” I said.
His smile flickered. “Of course.”
Priya sat beside me. Ellis waited near the door. Hannah had wanted to come, but I asked her to stay with Maren, who had begun receiving threatening texts after copying the company files.
“You loaned Caleb money,” Priya said.
“I provided business financing.”
“At thirty-two percent interest.”
“Risk has a price.”
“And when he couldn’t pay?”
Victor folded his hands. “I offered a restructuring arrangement.”
“You offered to take the company’s equipment,” I said.
“That was in the contract.”
“Did you know he planned to take my trust money?”
Victor looked at me for the first time. “I knew he needed funds.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“People in debt make choices.”
“You sent five thousand dollars to his attorney’s trust account.”
“A gesture of good faith.”
Priya placed a copy of my father’s letter on the desk. “Your history with Paul Rourke is relevant.”
Victor’s expression hardened. “Your father ruined a legitimate business relationship.”
“He reported fraud.”
“He protected himself.”
“And now you’re protecting Caleb?”
“I’m protecting an investment.”
Ellis slid forward a printed message. It was from Victor to Caleb, sent the night before the shower: If the Bellamy funds arrive, the company survives. If they do not, your mother loses the house by Friday.
Victor said nothing.
My anger shifted, becoming something colder. Diane’s house was not merely behind on payments. Victor had acquired the mortgage note and was using foreclosure to pressure Caleb.
“You knew Diane would push me?”
“I had no knowledge of any physical altercation.”
“But you knew they were planning to take the money.”
“I knew Caleb was desperate.”
That distinction might have protected him legally, but it did not protect him morally.
“Where is the rest of my money?” I asked.
“Some was used to pay lawful debts.”
“And the cash?”
He looked toward the window.
“Ask Caleb.”
Outside, rain streaked the glass towers. I felt the baby move, a firm nudge against my ribs.
“You helped create this,” I said. “You don’t get to call it business when a pregnant woman is pushed into a pool because your loan is due.”
Victor’s jaw tightened. “Your father understood that business has consequences.”
“So do I.”
When we left, Ellis received a message from Detective Ortiz. Search warrants had been executed at the Rourke Development office and Diane’s house.
They found the blue envelope from the shower in Diane’s kitchen trash.
It contained a draft confession written in Caleb’s handwriting, but the last paragraph had been crossed out.
I read the surviving lines in the courthouse hallway.
I accessed the account because Nora would not cooperate. I intended to replace the money before she noticed.
The crossed-out paragraph began: Diane instructed me to create a medical incident so Nora would be discredited.
Someone had torn away the rest.
May you like
Detective Ortiz called again.
“Nora,” she said, “we found out who tore the page.”
