Chapter 6 - The Affair Was Only the Beginning
Vanessa stopped denying the affair.
By the end of the week, her lawyers issued a carefully worded statement describing her relationship with Julian Cole as “a private matter unrelated to Daniel Blake’s tragic accident.”
Emma watched the statement from George’s small apartment in Burbank.
George snorted.
“Private matter.”
Emma glanced at him.
“You don’t believe her.”
“I worked in Hollywood for forty-seven years. Every scandal becomes private the second lawyers arrive.”
On George’s dining table lay enlargements of the surviving frames.
Ryan had hired a respected film conservator, Dr. Mina Shah, to examine every damaged section under police supervision.
Mina pointed to a recovered image.
The black envelope.
She had enhanced the gold printing.
CYPRESS GATE — STAGE 18 OPTION AND RELEASE
Emma read it twice.
“Release from what?”
Ryan sat opposite her.
“Possibly claims connected to ownership.”
George lifted another frame.
Daniel’s hand was visible.
He was pushing the envelope away.
The next surviving frame showed Julian’s ring.
Then darkness.
Mina said, “We can physically repair most of Vanessa’s tears.”
“How much?”
“Maybe seventy percent.”
Emma looked at George.
“You said six minutes survived.”
“Six uninterrupted minutes.”
“The torn sections?”
“If we have enough fragments, we may reconstruct another three.”
Ryan asked, “What about the section someone cut before the premiere?”
Mina shook her head.
“We cannot reconstruct film we do not possess.”
Emma remembered George’s stolen notebook.
Someone had known exactly what mattered.
Ryan’s phone rang.
Susan Park.
He put her on speaker.
“We found Orchid Meridian.”
Emma leaned closer.
“What?”
“Not the money. The ownership structure.”
Susan explained that Orchid Meridian Holdings had used nominee directors in Cyprus.
But banking due-diligence records from a U.S. correspondent bank contained beneficial ownership declarations.
Julian Cole: fifty-one percent.
Vanessa Blake: forty-nine percent.
Emma closed her eyes.
“How much went through it?”
“Between 2018 and 2023? At least thirty-eight-point-six million.”
George whispered, “Jesus.”
“From where?”
“Foreign distribution payments, production-rebate refunds, licensing revenue, and the eight-million-dollar transfer from Blake Horizon.”
Ryan stared at the wall.
“Julian was siphoning studio money.”
Susan corrected him.
“Money from multiple entities, including Blake Horizon.”
Emma asked, “Did my mother know?”
“She signed account-opening documents.”
That hurt more than Emma expected.
An affair could be explained by loneliness.
A hidden company receiving millions could not.
Ryan ended the call.
Emma turned to him.
“Your uncle was stealing.”
“Yes.”
“Your father removed him for accounting irregularities.”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did Arthur know?”
Ryan’s silence answered before he spoke.
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“My father died four years ago.”
“His records didn’t.”
Ryan accepted the demand.
George leaned back.
“Daniel thought somebody was deleting digital records. That’s why he asked me to move some onto film.”
Emma looked at him.
“Can we find them?”
“He gave me numbers.”
“From the stolen notebook.”
George shook his head.
“Some I remember.”
He wrote on paper:
18 / 42 / 7 / B.
Ryan frowned.
“What is that?”
“Daniel kept calling them frame markers.”
Emma stared.
“Stage 18. Forty-two?”
George shrugged.
“I assumed footage references.”
Emma remembered the old Crownlight archive catalog from childhood.
Her father used to tease her with shelf codes.
Stage number.
Cabinet.
Drawer.
Box.
“Those aren’t frames.”
She stood.
“They’re archive coordinates.”
Ryan looked up.
“Stage 18, cabinet forty-two, drawer seven, box B.”
They drove to Crownlight.
Stage 18 was locked for redevelopment surveys.
Ryan’s access still worked.
Inside, the enormous soundstage smelled of dust, lumber, and old paint.
Cabinet 42 sat behind a false western-town wall left from a 1990s production.
Drawer seven.
Box B.
Emma pulled it open.
Inside were reels of microfilm.
George picked one up.
His hands trembled.
“I made these.”
“You remember?”
“Yes.”
The labels carried payment ledgers.
Vendor invoices.
Internal memos.
Ryan held one toward the light.
A company name appeared repeatedly.
ORCHID MERIDIAN.
Then Emma found signatures.
Vanessa Blake.
Julian Cole.
And a third.
Emma Blake.
She stared.
“That’s not mine.”
Ryan came closer.
Three approvals bore Emma’s signature.
Dates from 2018.
When Emma had been nineteen and attending college in New York.
“I never signed these.”
George looked at her.
“Were you a trustee?”
“No.”
Ryan’s face darkened.
“Your signature gave the transfers the appearance of family approval.”
Emma felt suddenly sick.
Her mother had not merely taken money.
Someone had used Emma’s name to protect it.
At the bottom of the final ledger page was a handwritten note from Daniel.
E knows nothing. V and J using her as cover. Revoke everything tomorrow.
Emma covered her mouth.
May you like
Her father had known.
And the next morning never came.
