Chapter 9 - Charity Money
The Vale Children’s Foundation was Michael’s favorite project.
It funded pediatric rehabilitation, school meal programs, and housing grants for families with sick children.
Claire had chaired its annual gala for seven years.
The idea that someone had stolen from it made her physically ill.
“Forensic accountants confirmed $8.1 million over four years,” Lena said.
“Who authorized it?”
“Payments were disguised as program-related investments.”
Claire frowned.
“A charity can make investments.”
“Yes, but they must further charitable purposes and comply with tax rules. These appear to have funded entities connected to Vale Hospitality and Damian.”
Grace whispered, “People donated because they thought the money was helping children.”
Richard sat across the table.
He looked stunned.
“I never knew.”
Claire stared at him.
“That sentence is losing value.”
He flinched.
Good.
Lena continued.
“Some transfers were approved by the foundation treasurer.”
“Who?”
Grace answered.
“Damian.”
Of course.
The foundation board had trusted company counsel to oversee compliance.
A federal tax problem now sat on top of the corporate fraud.
Claire asked, “Does this endanger the foundation?”
“Yes.”
The IRS could assess penalties.
State charity regulators could investigate.
Donors could sue.
Worst of all, programs could lose funding.
Claire thought of the hundreds of people downstairs celebrating the gala only nights earlier.
Damian had used generosity as liquidity.
She called a foundation board meeting.
This time she did not let Richard lead.
“We disclose the transfers to regulators,” Claire said.
One board member protested.
“That will destroy donor confidence.”
“Hiding it will destroy us permanently.”
“We need time.”
“That is what everyone keeps saying when they mean secrecy.”
Richard watched her.
Claire continued.
“We hire independent forensic counsel. Damian is removed from all foundation authority immediately.”
The vote passed unanimously.
Richard voted yes.
Afterward he approached Claire.
“You sound like Eleanor.”
“I don’t know whether that’s a compliment.”
“It is.”
Claire looked at him.
“You spent years treating her like an obstacle.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t rewrite yourself because you feel guilty.”
His face fell.
“I’m trying not to.”
That mattered more than an apology.
At noon, Marcus arrived with security records from gala night.
He had reconstructed Damian’s movements.
At 6:13 p.m., Evan handed him the velvet envelope.
At 6:16, Damian entered the private service corridor.
At 6:18, someone else joined him.
The camera angle showed only a woman in a silver evening gown.
Grace stared.
“I know that dress.”
Claire did too.
Patricia Shaw.
Independent board director.
The same Patricia who had seemed outraged to learn Michael’s shares were in trust.
Marcus played the next clip.
Patricia handed Damian a folder.
He handed her something small.
A key card.
Claire whispered, “She’s involved.”
Richard’s face darkened.
“Patricia has been on our board for twelve years.”
“Apparently that doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
Claire called Patricia.
No answer.
Lena advised against confronting her.
They examined foundation payments instead.
One consulting recipient was Shaw Community Strategies LLC.
Total:
$640,000.
Richard whispered, “He bought her.”
Lena corrected him.
“Or paid her for something. We need proof.”
The special committee requested Patricia’s records.
She resigned thirty minutes later.
That was not proof.
It was close enough to panic.
Then Claire’s phone rang.
Patricia.
Claire answered on speaker.
“You’re making a mistake,” Patricia said.
“Then explain the payments.”
“I can’t over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because Damian monitors communications.”
Marcus exchanged a glance with Lena.
Patricia continued.
“I never helped him steal charity money.”
“What did you help him do?”
Silence.
“Patricia?”
“I helped him keep Richard as chairman.”
Richard looked up.
Patricia’s voice trembled.
“Eleanor had enough votes to remove him. Damian paid me to change sides.”
Richard closed his eyes.
Old wrongdoing returning.
Again.
Claire asked, “Why did Damian meet you at the gala?”
“He wanted my vote.”
“For the Bellmont sale?”
“Yes.”
“Did you agree?”
“No.”
“What did you give him?”
“A copy of a board consent.”
“What consent?”
“Something Michael signed before he became ill.”
Claire’s pulse quickened.
“About what?”
Patricia hesitated.
“Damian’s authority.”
Richard stood.
“What exactly did Michael sign?”
“A succession resolution.”
Michael had authorized Damian to act temporarily if both Michael and Richard were unavailable.
A reasonable emergency provision at the time.
Damian had apparently used fragments of it to justify later powers.
Claire asked, “Where is the original?”
“I gave him my copy.”
“Why?”
“He threatened to expose the payments.”
“You mean the bribes.”
Patricia began crying.
“Yes.”
Claire felt no triumph.
Only exhaustion.
“What did Damian give you at the gala?”
“The key card.”
“To where?”
Patricia whispered:
“His private archive.”
Marcus leaned closer.
“Where?”
“A storage floor beneath the old west wing.”
Grace frowned.
“There is no storage floor under the west wing.”
Richard looked at her.
“Yes, there is.”
Everyone turned.
Richard’s face had changed.
“It was sealed twenty years ago.”
Claire stared.
“What’s down there?”
Richard looked toward the ballroom.
“Eleanor’s original corporate archive.”
May you like
Damian had not just collected blackmail.
He had been hiding it inside Bellmont itself.
