Chapter 3 - THE CASE CLARA BURIED
Julian knew the name Henry Morrow.
Not personally.
Professionally.
Morrow had worked for the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network before joining a federal public corruption task force.
Years earlier, one of Julian's competitors had been investigated after Morrow discovered a network of shell companies moving political donations through fake consulting contracts.
Julian turned toward Clara.
"You've been meeting a federal investigator?"
"Not exactly."
"There's a photograph of you meeting him."
"Once."
"Why?"
Clara looked at Eleanor.
His mother smiled.
"Because your sweet little wife hasn't been honest."
Julian's patience ended.
"Mother, leave."
Eleanor blinked.
"What?"
"Leave this room."
"This concerns me."
"No. You're the suspected architect of a private surveillance room hidden inside my house. Marcus."
Marcus stepped forward.
Eleanor looked furious.
"You wouldn't dare."
Julian didn't raise his voice.
"Escort her downstairs."
Marcus nodded to a security guard.
Eleanor resisted only long enough to make her humiliation visible.
"This family existed before that woman entered it."
Julian answered, "And apparently lost its mind shortly afterward."
When Eleanor disappeared down the staircase, Julian closed the door.
Sienna remained.
He looked at her.
"You too."
"I didn't build this."
"But you knew it existed."
Sienna said nothing.
"Out."
She left.
Julian waited until they were alone.
Then he turned toward Clara.
"Start at the beginning."
Clara lowered herself into the desk chair.
"For almost ten years, I worked for the Ashford Legal Aid Foundation."
"I know."
"My specialty wasn't family law like your mother always told people."
Julian frowned.
"What was it?"
"Financial abuse."
Something clicked.
Clara continued.
"We helped elderly clients, domestic abuse survivors, employees whose identities had been used by employers. Sometimes we helped whistleblowers."
Julian leaned against the desk.
"Where does my family enter this?"
"One of our cases involved Hayes Community Housing."
His stomach tightened.
Hayes Community Housing was a charitable foundation established by Julian's grandfather.
It owned apartment buildings across Illinois.
"You investigated our charity?"
"My office did."
"And you?"
"I was assigned the case."
Julian stared at her.
"When?"
"Seven months before we met."
Silence.
He stood straighter.
"Seven months."
"Yes."
"Did you know who I was when we met?"
"No."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I knew the Hayes name. I didn't know you personally."
"Clara."
"It's true."
She was crying again.
Julian hated that his first instinct was suspicion.
He hated more that someone had engineered this moment so he would feel exactly that.
He forced himself to remain calm.
"What did you find?"
Clara wiped her face.
"Tenant funds were disappearing."
"How much?"
"At first? About eight hundred thousand dollars."
Julian almost laughed from disbelief.
"That's impossible."
"It became larger."
"How large?"
"Twenty-three million."
Julian stopped breathing for a second.
Clara continued.
"Money intended for housing repairs was being routed through maintenance companies that barely existed. Contractors billed for work never performed. Buildings received federal grants, then the money moved through consulting firms."
"My company has nothing to do with the foundation's daily operations."
"I know."
"Who controlled those companies?"
"We never proved it."
"But you suspected someone."
"Yes."
"Who?"
Before Clara could answer, Marcus opened the door.
"Sir, you need to see something."
Julian looked at him.
Marcus held a recovered backup drive.
"We restored part of the deleted east-hall footage."
"What does it show?"
"A guest entering this room fifteen minutes before you arrived."
Julian's eyes narrowed.
"Who?"
Marcus turned his tablet.
The footage showed the hidden bookcase opening.
A man stepped inside.
Dark suit.
Gray hair.
Gold watch.
Julian recognized him immediately.
His uncle Lawrence.
The video jumped.
Six minutes later Lawrence emerged carrying a black notebook and a computer hard drive.
Clara stared at the screen.
"That's the notebook."
Julian looked toward the staircase.
"Where is Lawrence now?"
Marcus's expression changed.
"That's the problem."
"What?"
"He's gone."
Julian stared at him.
"The gates are locked."
"He didn't use the gate."
Marcus switched the security feed.
A camera showed the garage.
An expensive black sedan remained parked in its bay.
Another angle showed a narrow service road behind the greenhouse.
Tire tracks cut through wet soil.
Marcus said, "Someone opened the old maintenance barrier."
Julian's voice became deadly quiet.
"How many people know that road exists?"
May you like
Marcus looked at Eleanor's name on the security access log.
"Three."
