Chapter 8 - The Ledger in the Wall
The folder went directly to Nadia and the forensic team. The police took the fingerprints from the delivery uniform, though the fabric had been handled too many times to promise results.
The note changed the shape of the case. Until then, the family had seemed united in protecting Julian. Now someone had threatened them against one another.
“The handwriting on the second line may be Marjorie’s,” Nadia said.
“May be?”
“The sample is short. We need comparison material.”
“I have years of birthday cards.”
“Keep them. Don’t confront her.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because confrontation is satisfying and evidence is useful.”
The next morning, the forensic team searched the penthouse for unauthorized devices. In the study, they found a small recorder behind a row of architecture books. It had been placed inside a decorative case and connected to a charger hidden behind the desk.
I stared at it. “How long?”
“The memory card holds six months,” the technician said.
“Can we listen?”
“With counsel present.”
The recordings contained fragments of household conversations: Marjorie criticizing my work, Julian discussing company travel, my calls with Nadia. None were complete enough to establish who had planted it.
Then we heard Claire’s voice.
“The owner is moving too slowly.”
Marjorie replied, “She will never expose herself while she thinks she can save the marriage.”
Julian’s voice followed. “I told you not to involve my mother.”
“You involved yourself when you signed the transfer.”
“I signed a vendor approval.”
“You signed the authority memorandum.”
The recording ended in static.
I stood so quickly that my chair struck the wall.
“Play it again.”
Nadia raised a hand. “We have it preserved.”
“Julian signed an authority memorandum.”
“He may not have known its contents.”
“He was arguing about it.”
“Yes.”
The board scheduled a second interview with Julian. He refused to attend without immunity from criminal exposure, which no one could offer him.
Instead, he sent Peter a message requesting a private meeting with me.
I almost declined. Then I remembered his voice on the recording, uncertain and frightened.
We met in a small room at Nadia’s office with a camera running.
Julian looked exhausted. “I didn’t know the memorandum created authority over the ownership structure.”
“What did you think it did?”
“It was described as a continuity plan. If the investor group became unavailable, senior management could keep the company operating.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Claire.”
“Who told you to sign?”
“My mother.”
I closed my eyes.
“She said the owners were preparing to remove me,” he continued. “She said the memorandum would protect my position.”
“You signed without reading it?”
“I read parts.”
“Which parts?”
“The sections about client continuity and banking authority.”
“Not the section appointing you as an operational representative of Greer Vale?”
He shook his head.
“Why did you trust Claire?”
“She had been with the company longer than I had.”
“And your mother?”
“She said she was protecting me.”
“You allowed her to use company resources.”
“I thought the foundation was separate.”
“It received money from Northline.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
He looked at me. “Because it’s true.”
“Truth is not innocence.”
He flinched.
“Did you leak the emails?”
“No.”
“Did Claire?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Marjorie?”
He rubbed his hands together. “My mother thinks pressure makes people reveal themselves.”
“She tore my dress to pressure me.”
“I know.”
“You watched.”
“I was ashamed.”
“You were silent.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of her?”
“Of losing the only family I had.”
I wanted to tell him that fear explained his behavior but did not excuse it. Instead, I asked, “What is in the company vault?”
His face changed.
“Why would you ask that?”
“A key marked L-17 was found at the warehouse.”
“I don’t have access.”
“You used to.”
“The vault contains old acquisition records.”
“And?”
He looked toward the camera. “There was a ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“My mother kept records of every payment she called a family advance.”
“Why would she keep them at the company?”
“Because she said paper could not be hacked.”
“What did the ledger show?”
“I never read it.”
“You knew it existed.”
“I saw it once.”
“When?”
“The week before our wedding.”
The room seemed to contract.
“What did you see?”
“Your name.”
“In the ledger?”
“At the top of a page.”
May you like
“What did it say?”
He swallowed. “It said: Amelia Greer must never learn what Julian owes us.”
