Chapter 9 - Heritage Restoration
Claire’s suspension removed her access.
It did not remove her memory.
She knew which records had already been lawfully preserved.
Copies of Heritage invoices.
Security logs.
Vendor files.
And a photograph of Grant Mercer holding Agnes’s missing key.
She met Edward’s outside counsel at a law office off the Strip.
Victor was not invited.
He came anyway.
Claire told him to leave.
“I have my father’s documents.”
“Then give them to counsel.”
“I can help.”
“You helped yourself for two years.”
He flinched.
Claire continued.
“You don’t get to freelance because your motives feel righteous.”
Victor sat down.
“I’m not leaving.”
Claire stared.
Agnes, beside him, said, “Let him stay.”
Claire looked at her.
“He is a liability.”
“So was I.”
“That does not make two liabilities useful.”
Agnes almost smiled.
Outside counsel allowed Victor to remain as a factual witness.
Heritage’s books were worse than expected.
Over seven years, Sterling Crown paid $18.4 million.
Actual restoration work accounted for roughly $6.2 million.
Another $4.7 million went to legitimate subcontractors.
That left $7.5 million with weak or nonexistent support.
Payments included:
Marcus Lane — $300,000.
Private storage services — $1.1 million.
Grant Mercer Consulting — $620,000.
A law firm that had handled old Sterling family matters — $950,000.
And nearly $2.9 million transferred to WM Legacy Trust distributions.
Charles.
Agnes stared.
“He was paying himself.”
Outside counsel corrected gently.
“Money reached a trust benefiting him. We need to establish purpose.”
Victor laughed.
“Lawyers.”
Claire said, “Purpose matters.”
“He stole.”
“Maybe.”
Victor stood.
“Everyone needs a court order before calling water wet.”
Agnes looked at him.
“That temper is why you dumped my purse.”
He stopped.
She continued.
“You decide what something is before you have finished looking.”
Victor sat again.
He hated that she was right.
Edward arrived.
His face was exhausted.
“Orpheus wants a fifteen-day extension.”
“Good?” Agnes asked.
“No.”
If Orpheus walked after full disclosure, Sterling Crown would need to refinance $1.1 billion in debt the following spring without expected equity proceeds.
The company could survive.
But not comfortably.
Charles knew it.
Edward said, “The audit committee wants me to step away from the investigation.”
Claire frowned.
“Why?”
“My electronic approval appears on three Heritage annual budgets.”
Agnes watched him.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
The irony landed.
Edward had spent two days asking everyone else for proof.
Now his own signature implicated him.
He sat beside Agnes.
“My father taught me never to sign something I didn’t understand.”
“And you signed these.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Charles presented Heritage inside grouped capital budgets.”
Agnes nodded.
“So you trusted family.”
Edward laughed without humor.
“Yes.”
The forensic accountants traced one storage payment to a warehouse company.
A manager remembered Heritage removing twenty-three boxes two days before Agnes arrived.
“Where did they go?” Claire asked.
The manager checked manifests.
“Sterling Crown property.”
“Which property?”
He gave an address.
An old maintenance warehouse behind the casino’s employee parking structure.
Edward stood.
“That warehouse is scheduled for demolition.”
“When?”
The manager checked.
“Monday.”
Three days.
Claire said, “We need a preservation order.”
Outside counsel was already making calls.
Victor looked at the address.
“I know that building.”
Claire turned.
“How?”
“My father took me there once.”
Everyone stared.
“When?” Agnes asked.
“2018. Before he received the Heritage money.”
“What happened?”
“He met a man.”
“Who?”
Victor searched his memory.
“I stayed in the car.”
“What did he look like?”
“Gray hair. Heavy. Sterling security badge.”
Edward opened an old executive directory.
Victor pointed immediately.
Charles.
“My father met Charles there.”
Agnes leaned forward.
“Did Marcus take anything inside?”
“A folder.”
“What kind?”
“Red leather.”
Agnes went pale.
Edward noticed.
“What?”
She whispered, “Raymond’s fire ledger had a red leather cover.”
The room went silent.
The ledger had not vanished in 1979.
May you like
Marcus Lane had seen it eight years earlier.
And Charles Sterling had known exactly where it was.
