Chapter 2 - The Missing $240,000
Nathan asked the question again.
“What nursery account?”
Diane crossed the kitchen and picked up her wineglass from the breakfast bar.
Claire almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Five minutes earlier, the woman had been screaming on the floor.
Now she was drinking Cabernet while deciding which lie to tell next.
“The family planning account,” Diane said. “You know about it.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You approved it months ago.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Show me.”
“Nathan—”
“Show me.”
Diane looked at Claire.
“See what she’s doing? She wants us fighting.”
Claire touched her burning cheek.
“You threw cookware at my head.”
Nathan flinched.
Claire saw it.
Good.
He should.
He had crossed a line too.
Nathan led them into the study, where a fire burned beneath a carved stone mantel. His laptop sat on an antique walnut desk that had belonged to his father, Henry Vale.
Henry had died eighteen months earlier after a heart attack at sixty-eight.
His death had left Nathan as CEO of Vale Mountain Holdings, a privately held hospitality and development company controlling luxury resorts, commercial property, and several mountain communities.
It had also left Diane with enormous influence.
She chaired the family trust that owned thirty-eight percent of the company’s voting units.
Nathan logged into the family banking portal.
Diane stayed behind him.
“Search Alder Crest,” Claire said.
Diane’s head snapped toward her.
Nathan noticed.
“Why that name?”
“The text.”
Claire showed him the message.
The anonymous sender had added another line.
ALDER CREST CONSULTING. THREE TRANSFERS.
Nathan searched.
The first transfer appeared.
$80,000.
Then another.
$80,000.
Then a third.
$80,000.
Total: $240,000.
Claire leaned closer.
“What was this account for?”
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
“My father created it after we announced the pregnancy. He called it the nursery account as a joke. It was supposed to pay for renovations here and at our Denver house.”
“Who had authority?”
“Me. Mom. The trust office.”
Diane scoffed.
“And the money was used for family property.”
Claire looked at her.
“Then there will be invoices.”
“There are.”
“Show us.”
Diane’s silence answered first.
Nathan turned.
“Mom.”
“They’re at the office.”
“Which property?”
“The Jackson project.”
Nathan went still.
“What Jackson project?”
Claire knew that reaction.
He had never heard of it.
Diane’s mouth tightened.
“A preliminary land opportunity.”
“With money from an account my father designated for Claire and the baby?”
“It was temporary.”
Claire pulled a chair closer.
“Who owns Alder Crest Consulting?”
“No idea.”
“You sent them a quarter-million dollars.”
“I authorized payments. I don’t personally investigate every vendor.”
“That’s convenient.”
Diane glared at her.
“You think because you spent a few years reviewing expense reports, you understand this family’s businesses?”
Claire’s anger sharpened.
“I spent eleven years investigating fraud.”
Nathan looked at her.
That was another wound between them.
Claire had left a growing practice when the pregnancy became difficult and travel exhausting. Nathan had encouraged her to take a year off.
Diane had turned that decision into a weapon.
Claire opened a corporate database on Nathan’s laptop.
No internet.
The blizzard had knocked out the main line.
She switched to the chalet’s satellite backup.
Alder Crest Consulting LLC was registered in Wyoming.
No public manager listed.
But the registered agent’s address meant something to Claire.
She had seen it before.
“Where?”
Nathan asked.
Claire searched her memory.
Then she knew.
“Your mother’s lawyer.”
Diane slammed her glass onto the desk.
“This is ridiculous.”
Nathan looked at her sharply.
“Martin Shaw?”
Diane said nothing.
Martin Shaw had been the Vale family’s outside attorney for fifteen years.
He had also been Diane’s personal attorney since Henry died.
Nathan opened his email.
Claire said, “Search Alder Crest.”
Three messages appeared.
The oldest was from six months earlier.
FROM: Diane Vale
TO: Nathan Vale
SUBJECT: Temporary Capital Allocation
Nathan opened it.
The body contained only two sentences.
As discussed, I have approved your request to move excess family funds into Alder Crest pending the Jackson closing. Please confirm.
Underneath was Nathan’s reply.
Approved. N.
Claire’s stomach sank.
Nathan stared.
“I never wrote this.”
Diane leaned forward.
“There. You did.”
“No.”
“It came from your account.”
Nathan clicked the message details.
The login record showed his email credentials.
But the IP address traced to the Vale Denver headquarters.
On a day Nathan had been in Boston.
Claire remembered because it was their anniversary weekend.
“You weren’t in Denver,” she said.
“I was at the East Coast investors conference.”
Diane’s expression remained smooth.
“Assistants use your email all the time.”
“No assistant is authorized to send approvals in my name.”
Nathan stood.
“Who did this?”
Diane’s calm finally cracked.
“Be very careful before you accuse me.”
Claire stared at the screen.
The transfer was larger than the anonymous text suggested.
$240,000 was only what came from the nursery account.
A linked transaction history showed payments from two other family entities.
$1.1 million.
$760,000.
$420,000.
All to Alder Crest.
Claire added the visible transfers.
“Over two and a half million.”
Nathan went pale.
Diane headed toward the door.
“Tomorrow, after the storm, we can discuss this with Martin.”
Claire’s phone vibrated again.
This time there was no message.
Only a photograph.
It showed a contract page.
At the bottom was Diane’s signature.
At the top:
ALDER CREST DEVELOPMENT PARTICIPATION AGREEMENT.
Claire enlarged the page.
One sentence had been circled.
PERSONAL BENEFICIAL INTEREST: DIANE VALE — 72%.
Nathan read it.
“Mom.”
Diane stopped in the doorway.
Nathan’s voice became quieter.
“You own it.”
Diane did not turn around.
And Claire understood something important.
The anonymous sender was not warning them about a suspicious payment.
Someone was trying to expose Diane.
The only question was why.
That night, Claire woke to the soft sound of the bedroom door closing.
Nathan was asleep beside her.
May you like
She reached for her laptop.
It was gone.
