Chapter 10 - The Woman on the Screen
The video was only ninety seconds long.
Atlantic Republic’s counsel allowed Maya and me to view it at their office.
A woman sat in shadow.
Camera poor.
Hair pulled back.
Large glasses.
She never showed identification clearly.
Ethan sat beside her.
The banker asked, “Ms. Morgan, you understand the guaranty obligation may reach eight million dollars?”
The woman said, “Yes.”
The voice was not mine.
But it was close enough for someone who had never met me.
Then Ethan smiled directly into the camera.
“Claire and I are fully aligned.”
I wanted to crawl through the screen and strangle him.
Maya squeezed my arm.
“Watch.”
The banker asked the woman to confirm the Harbor Street address.
She did.
Then Ethan answered almost every remaining question.
The call ended.
“Who is she?” I asked.
The bank’s attorney would not speculate.
Sabrina recognized her immediately from a still image.
“Lena Price.”
“Who?”
“Victoria’s executive assistant.”
We found Lena through counsel before the FBI did.
She was twenty-seven and terrified.
She had quit Vale Meridian the morning after my wedding.
Her attorney arranged a meeting.
Lena admitted everything.
“Victoria told me it was a rehearsal.”
“A rehearsal for what?” Daniel asked.
“She said the bank needed a mock borrower call before the real one.”
“You gave my name.”
“She told me to.”
“Did Ethan know it was you?”
Lena began crying.
“He was in the room.”
That removed Ethan’s last excuse.
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Pay you?”
“A five-thousand-dollar bonus.”
“For impersonating me.”
“I didn’t understand what it was until afterward.”
“Did you return the money?”
“No.”
Her attorney interrupted.
“She will cooperate with investigators.”
I stared at this young woman who had helped place eight million dollars of debt around my neck for five thousand dollars.
Then I thought of my own seventeen-page packet.
My own signature.
My own carelessness.
People built disasters out of different weaknesses.
Greed.
Fear.
Trust.
Loyalty.
Cowardice.
The FBI now had a current bank-fraud trail.
But Victoria was not finished.
That afternoon, three of my firm’s largest clients received anonymous packages containing copies of Vale Meridian’s lawsuit against me.
Yes.
Lawsuit.
Victoria’s attorneys filed in Suffolk Superior Court alleging misappropriation of trade secrets, conversion of confidential corporate material, business interference, and defamation.
They sought an injunction preventing us from using Evelyn’s ledgers.
Maya read the complaint.
“They’re trying to scare you and potentially lock down evidence.”
“Can they?”
“They can ask.”
Daniel smiled grimly.
“And discovery works both ways.”
That was the first advantage.
If Victoria wanted a civil war, she might have opened her own records.
Then Ethan filed for divorce before I did.
His petition portrayed him as the spouse seeking safety after my “violent conduct.”
I sat at my desk reading the allegations.
Soup.
Slap.
Emotional instability.
Public humiliation.
No mention that he hit me first.
No mention of Harbor Street.
No mention of M-Strategy.
“He wants to control the first narrative,” Maya said.
“Fine.”
“It is not fine.”
“No. But I’m done being shocked that he’s terrible.”
That night, Margaret came to my apartment.
She carried an old cardboard box.
“What’s that?”
“Your father’s papers.”
Inside were notebooks, tax files, photographs.
At the bottom lay a leather appointment book from 2004.
My father had written one name repeatedly during the month before the Harbor Street auction.
THOMAS V.
Ethan’s father.
And beside the final entry:
T.V. OFFERED 250K TO STAY AWAY. VICTORIA KNOWS. REFUSED.
I looked at Margaret.
“You never saw this?”
“No.”
Another entry appeared two days later.
EVELYN WARNED ME: THEY WILL COME BACK FOR PIER NINE ONE DAY.
Then the final sentence:
If anything happens, Martin knows.
“Martin?” I asked.
Margaret went pale.
“Martin Hale.”
“Who is that?”
“The old chief financial officer.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
She swallowed.
“Vermont.”
Daniel was already reaching for his phone.
But when he searched the name, his expression changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen.
Martin Hale had not disappeared into retirement.
He was still connected to Vale Meridian.
May you like
He sat on its board of directors.
And he had voted to approve Harbor Aster.
