Chương 6
"Meaning?"
"It was a draft."
Ivan looked confused.
"Then why does it matter?"
"Because someone altered a copy."
Eleanor leaned forward.
"What was changed?"
Daniel pointed to the bottom section.
"Your signature requirement."
The room went quiet.
"The original document required your approval."
He moved his finger.
"This version removed that requirement."
Ivan stared at the page.
"Can someone just do that?"
"Someone can alter a document."
Daniel looked at him.
"Whether they can make it valid is another question."
"Then why did Arthur do it?"
Daniel looked at Eleanor.
"That is the question."
Eleanor did not answer.
She looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Because every answer created another wound.
Daniel gathered the papers.
"I also need to tell you something else."
Ivan waited.
"Arthur contacted the investment company yesterday."
"What did he say?"
"He asked about closing an account."
Eleanor's expression changed.
"Which account?"
Daniel opened the folder again.
"The one connected to the withdrawals you circled."
Ivan stood.
"He's trying to move the money."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
Daniel's voice remained steady.
"We do not know his intention yet."
Ivan ran a hand through his hair.
The patience required to uncover the truth felt unbearable.
Arthur could make one phone call.
One decision.
One signature.
And they had to prove every step afterward.
Eleanor looked at Daniel.
"What can we do?"
"We protect access first."
"And then?"
"Then we find out exactly what happened."
That evening, Eleanor sat alone at the kitchen table while Ivan cooked dinner.
He was not a good cook.
Everyone who had eaten his meals knew that.
But he tried.
The pasta was slightly overcooked.
The sauce was too salty.
Eleanor ate it anyway.
"This needs more garlic," she said.
Ivan looked offended.
"You ate the whole bowl."
"Criticism and appreciation can exist together."
He smiled.
"That sounds like something you would put on a pillow."
"I would never own a pillow with words on it."
"You have one that says 'Grandma's kitchen.'"
"That was a gift."
"You keep it."
"Because throwing away gifts is rude."
The small argument felt almost normal.
Almost.
Then Ivan's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A man's voice spoke immediately.
"Is this Ivan Sterling?"
"Who is this?"
"My name is Thomas Bell."
Ivan looked at Eleanor.
The name meant nothing to him.
"I work with your father."
The room changed.
Not because of the name.
Because of the hesitation before the next sentence.
"I think you should know something before your father finds out I contacted you."
Ivan stood slowly.
"What?"
Thomas took a breath.
"Your grandmother was never the only person whose accounts were changed."
Eleanor stopped eating.
The fork in her hand remained suspended above the plate.
Ivan looked at her.
Then back at the phone.
"Who else?"
Thomas answered quietly.
"People who trusted your father."
And for the first time since the suitcase appeared beside the glass doors, Ivan understood that Eleanor's story might not be the only one waiting to be uncovered.
Thomas did not say anything else for several seconds.
Ivan could hear faint office sounds through the phone.
A printer running.
Someone talking in the distance.
The ordinary noise of a workplace where people were pretending everything was normal.
"Who are these people?" Ivan asked.
Thomas hesitated.
"I cannot give you names over the phone."
"Why?"
"Because your father has friends who are good at finding out where information comes from."
Ivan looked at Eleanor.
She had placed her fork down.
Her face was calm, but her eyes were fixed on him.
"What did he do?" Ivan asked.
Thomas lowered his voice.
"I am saying there are patterns."
"Patterns of what?"
"People giving him access because they trusted him."
The call ended before Ivan could ask another question.
He stared at the screen.
No name saved.
No number he recognized.
Just another piece of information that created more questions than answers.
Eleanor reached across the table.
"Let me see."
He handed her the phone.
She studied the number.
"You do not know him?"
"No."
"Then we do not assume he is telling the truth."
Ivan frowned.
"After everything we found?"
"Especially after everything we found."
She placed the phone down.
"Fear makes people believe the first person who confirms what they already suspect."
Ivan leaned back.
He hated that she was right.
He wanted Thomas to be a witness.
He wanted the story to become simple.
A person who did wrong.
A person who could prove it.
A person who could fix what had happened.
But nothing about the last few days had been simple.
The following morning, Daniel arranged a meeting with Thomas at a small coffee shop near his office.
Ivan wanted to go alone.
Eleanor refused.
"I am the person this concerns."
"You are also the person everyone keeps trying to protect."
She picked up her handbag.
"Then perhaps it is time they stop."
The coffee shop was crowded.
People worked on laptops.
A woman nearby spoke about a job interview.
A man in a baseball cap argued quietly about a delivery.
Nobody paid attention to Ivan and Eleanor sitting in the corner.
That was what made it feel real.
Important things rarely happened in dramatic places.
Sometimes they happened between strangers drinking coffee.
Thomas Bell arrived ten minutes late.
He was younger than Ivan expected.
Maybe forty.
Maybe younger.
He wore a plain jacket and carried himself like someone who had spent years trying not to be noticed.
He sat down and looked at Eleanor.
"I am sorry."
She nodded.
"For what?"
"For waiting."
The answer surprised Ivan.
Thomas looked at the table.
"I should have said something sooner."
"Why did you not?"
He rubbed his hands together.
"Because I thought I was helping."
Eleanor did not react.
That made him continue.
"I worked with Arthur for six years."
"Doing what?"
"Financial planning."
Ivan felt his stomach tighten.
Thomas looked at Eleanor.
May you like
"Your son was very good at making people feel like he was doing them a favor."
"Was he?"
