Chương 13
“Yes.”
“And willing to risk my money.”
“Yes.”
“And then used that fake picture of me to get the loan.”
“That is what the documents suggest.”
I closed my eyes.
The restaurant came back to me.
Dad ordering wine.
Dad telling Scott I needed to grow up.
Dad making jokes about adults who lived on their parents’ money.
He had spent the evening performing my dependence while his company paperwork performed my wealth.
The contradiction was so grotesque it almost felt elegant.
“Did Scott know?”
“I don’t know.”
“He says he didn’t.”
“He may not have.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“I don’t trust anyone who stayed close to Jason after the Mercer refinancing.”
Riley whispered, “Fair.”
“What about Mom?”
I asked.
Denise hesitated.
“She knew more than she pretended.”
“Specifics.”
“She handled some family records.”
“What kind?”
“Tax documents.”
My stomach tightened.
“The fake return?”
“I don’t know which return you’ve seen.”
I told her.
Silence.
Then Denise said, “That income number came from the consulting ledger.”
“I never consulted.”
“I know.”
“Who created the ledger?”
“It already existed when I found it.”
“That means nothing.”
“I’m telling you what I can prove.”
Her voice hardened for the first time.
The sentence made me angry.
It also made me listen.
Denise continued.
“I saw entries under your name.”
“For what?”
“Design consulting.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Even the fraud had used my degree.
“How much?”
“Roughly one hundred thirty thousand across two years.”
“I never received it.”
“I never processed payments to you.”
“Then where did the money go?”
“The ledger offset against amounts labeled shareholder advances.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means on paper you earned money and then effectively put it back into the company.”
“But no money moved.”
“Not through payroll.”
“So it was fake.”
“It may have been accounting entries rather than cash.”
“Fake.”
“Amber.”
“Fine.”
I gripped the phone harder.
“Unsupported.”
“That’s closer.”
I wanted to throw something.
Instead I looked at Riley’s stupid Wisconsin magnet on the refrigerator.
It helped.
“Will you speak to my lawyer?”
Denise was quiet.
“Give me her name.”
I did.
“I’ll have my attorney contact her.”
“When?”
“Today.”
“You said your courage was temporary.”
A small laugh escaped her.
“It is.”
“Then do it before it wears off.”
Before we ended, I asked one more question.
“Why did you resign?”
This time she did not hesitate.
“Your father asked me to backdate a document.”
“What document?”
“A board consent.”
“For which company?”
“Mitchell Urban Holdings II.”
“What was it consenting to?”
“A loan.”
“The Mercer loan?”
“Yes.”
“Who was supposedly on the board?”
“Jason.”
She paused.
“And you.”
My mouth went dry.
“I’m on the board?”
“According to corporate records.”
“I’ve never been to a board meeting.”
“I know.”
“Have I signed board documents?”
“Several.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“I understand.”
Riley covered her mouth.
I stared at the floor.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than five?”
“Yes.”
“More than ten?”
“Probably.”
A pressure built behind my eyes.
“Did you ever see me at the office?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“You were in college.”
A memory surfaced.
Dad taking me downtown.
A summer afternoon.
I had waited in a conference room while he finished a meeting.
Someone brought me a Diet Coke.
There had been forms on the table.
“Did I sign anything?”
“Yes.”
My breathing stopped for half a second.
“What?”
“I don’t remember exactly.”
“Try.”
“You signed a document because Jason said he needed to update the company records.”
“How old was I?”
“Nineteen, maybe twenty.”
“What did it say?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were accounting.”
“I wasn’t sitting beside you.”
The frustration in her voice matched mine now.
“I walked in after.”
“What did you see?”
“You signing.”
“Did I read it?”
Denise went silent.
That was the answer.
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“You were looking at your phone.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course I was.
That made it believable in the worst way.
I had probably been texting Riley.
Or checking Instagram.
Or annoyed that Dad had made me come downtown when I wanted to meet friends.
I could see myself signing without looking.
That did not mean I had agreed to what came afterward.
But it meant my father had something real.
Not just forgeries.
Access.
Habits.
Trust I had handed over one careless signature at a time.
After the call, I sat at the table for several minutes.
Riley did not speak.
Finally I said, “Maybe some of the signatures are mine.”
“Maybe.”
“What if that ruins everything?”
“It doesn’t make what he did okay.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
I looked at her.
“I signed things.”
“You were young.”
“I was an adult.”
“Those can both be true.”
“I didn’t read them.”
“Also true.”
“I was irresponsible.”
Riley’s jaw tightened.
“Do not finish his sentence for him.”
I looked away.
“He called me irresponsible for years.”
“And then handed you documents designed to exploit exactly what he accused you of.”
“We don’t know that.”
She stared.
I sighed.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re right.”
I rubbed both hands over my face.
“We don’t know everything.”
“That’s different from knowing nothing.”
My phone vibrated.
Maya.
I answered.
“I just received an email from an attorney representing Denise Alvarez.”
“That was fast.”
“Yes.”
Maya sounded focused.
“She has records she is willing to preserve and potentially produce.”
“Potentially?”
“Her attorney wants assurances regarding how they’re used.”
“She helped cover this up.”
“Possibly.”
“Why are you protecting her?”
“I’m not.”
Maya’s tone stayed even.
“I’m telling you that witnesses have their own interests.”
I looked toward the window.
Dad’s Mercedes was gone.
The street below looked ordinary again.
“What did you find in the lender package?”
“Something I need you to hear carefully.”
My stomach tightened.
“There is a personal guarantee bearing your electronic signature.”
“I saw it.”
“There’s also a certificate stating that you reviewed and approved the financial disclosures.”
“I didn’t.”
“I understand.”
May you like
“And?”
“The authentication record shows the signature link was opened from an IP address associated with your parents’ Highland Park home.”
