Chương 5
Six months before Thomas died, he discovered something wrong with one of the company’s older redevelopment funds.
Money had been moved.
Not stolen in the simple sense Daniel initially believed.
Redirected.
Properties had been purchased through intermediary companies, renovated with Morgan House money, then transferred at artificially low valuations to a private entity.
Harrow Street Partners.
Daniel had spent two years trying to determine who controlled it.
He eventually found signatures.
Edward leaned closer to the screen.
“No.”
Claire opened the scanned document.
Victoria Morgan’s signature appeared at the bottom.
Beside it was another.
Thomas Morgan.
Edward shook his head.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Victoria said, “Because it isn’t what you think.”
Claire turned.
“Then tell me what it is.”
Victoria looked suddenly exhausted.
“Your father was hiding money.”
“For you?”
“No.”
“For who?”
Victoria’s eyes moved to the photograph.
“For Daniel.”
Claire stared at her.
“No.”
“He was afraid Daniel would relapse and lose access to the trust.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you knew your father.”
“I knew him.”
“No,” Victoria said. “You knew the version he gave you.”
Claire stood so quickly the chair rolled backward.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn Dad into the explanation because he’s dead.”
Victoria’s voice remained low.
“I am telling you the truth.”
“You locked Lily outside because she found proof you were protecting Daniel?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Because Daniel discovered only half of it.”
Edward sat down beside the laptop.
“What’s the other half?”
Victoria looked at him.
“You.”
Edward blinked.
“What?”
“Harrow Street wasn’t Thomas’s idea.”
The silence lasted several seconds.
Edward gave a confused laugh.
“I’ve never heard of it until tonight.”
“I know.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?”
Victoria walked to the window.
“Thomas was going to remove you from the company.”
Edward’s face emptied.
“Why?”
“Because he believed you were stealing.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I was.”
Claire stared at her mother.
Victoria pressed two fingers against the bridge of her nose.
“For nine months.”
No one interrupted.
“It began after Daniel’s second rehab. Your father wanted to cut him off completely. No rent. No treatment. Nothing. He said consequences were the only language Daniel understood.”
Claire remembered that year.
Daniel calling her from Arizona.
The heat.
His shame.
The way he had asked whether she could lend him $600 without telling their parents.
Claire had sent $900.
Victoria continued.
“I moved money into Harrow Street to pay for his treatment without Thomas knowing.”
Edward stared at her.
“You forged his signature?”
“Yes.”
“And mine?”
Victoria looked at him.
“Yes.”
Edward stood.
“You forged my name?”
“Once.”
“You let Thomas think I was stealing?”
“No. He suspected you before that.”
“And you helped him believe it.”
“I intended to fix it.”
Edward laughed.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course you did.”
Claire looked back at the screen.
“Daniel found this.”
“Yes.”
“And thought you were stealing from the company.”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Victoria hesitated.
Claire felt it.
“What did he find after that?”
Victoria did not answer.
Claire opened the Harrow folder.
There were more records.
The oldest dated back nine years.
The newest was from twenty months ago.
Claire frowned.
“Daniel was sober by then.”
Victoria said nothing.
Claire opened the spreadsheet.
Transfers continued long after Daniel’s treatment ended.
The amounts grew.
Twenty thousand.
Forty-eight thousand.
Seventy-five.
A hundred and ten.
Edward leaned over her shoulder.
“Where did it go?”
Claire scrolled.
One recipient appeared repeatedly.
Harrow Street Foundation.
She looked at Victoria.
“What is that?”
Victoria’s lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Claire clicked another file.
A scanned incorporation record.
The beneficiary field listed a name.
Not Daniel Morgan.
Not Victoria.
Not Thomas.
Claire read it twice.
Then a third time.
“Who is Anna Bell?”
Victoria turned toward the window.
Edward whispered, “Jesus.”
Claire looked at him.
“You know?”
He sat back down.
“I knew an Anna.”
“What Anna?”
Edward’s eyes remained on Victoria.
“Thomas’s assistant.”
Claire felt something cold move through her.
“When?”
“Long time ago. Twenty-five years, maybe.”
“Twenty-seven,” Victoria said.
Claire looked at her mother.
Victoria’s face had lost all its ceremony.
No wealthy matriarch.
No perfect hostess.
Just an old woman standing beneath fluorescent station-office lights while rain moved down the windows behind her.
“Anna Bell had a son,” she said.
Claire waited.
“Your father was his father.”
Edward closed his eyes.
Claire said, “No.”
Victoria nodded once.
“No.”
“I found out when the boy was four.”
“No.”
“His name is Samuel.”
Claire stood.
She walked away from the desk.
There was nowhere useful to go.
The room was too small.
She stopped beside a rack holding three white garment bags from the wedding.
“Dad had another son.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
“For twenty-three years.”
“Yes.”
“Did Daniel know?”
“He discovered it.”
Claire turned.
“When?”
“About six months before he died.”
The words struck differently now.
Daniel had died in a car accident on a wet interstate outside Albany. His car crossed the median just after midnight and hit a concrete barrier.
The police report said speed and weather were contributing factors.
No alcohol.
No drugs.
Claire had read the report so many times she could still see the diagram.
“You told people he was using again.”
“I told Edward I was worried he might be.”
“You told me too.”
“I was worried.”
“Was he using?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Claire stared at her.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me wonder.”
Victoria looked down.
Claire walked toward her.
“You let me wonder if my brother died because he relapsed.”
“I was trying to keep you from digging into what he had found.”
Claire could barely hear herself.
“Why?”
“Because Thomas was dead. Daniel was dead. Anna was dead. I thought there was nothing left to gain by destroying what remained.”
“Except there was someone left.”
Victoria looked at her.
“Samuel.”
“Yes.”
Claire glanced at the spreadsheet.
“You were sending him money.”
May you like
“Through the foundation.”
“Did he know where it came from?”
