Chapter 6 - Aaron’s Price
Rebecca arranged the meeting in her office.
Aaron arrived twenty minutes late.
He looked thinner than Ian remembered.
Nervous.
Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt.
Ian sat across from him.
“You broke into my house.”
Aaron shook his head.
“Judson gave me a key.”
“That doesn’t make it legal.”
“I was retrieving company property.”
“From my property.”
Aaron looked toward Rebecca.
“I’m willing to cooperate.”
Rebecca did not smile.
“In exchange for what?”
“No police.”
“You’re in no position to negotiate immunity.”
Aaron swallowed.
“I can prove who created the lease.”
Ian leaned forward.
“Talk.”
Aaron glanced at the recorder on the table.
Rebecca said, “Your attorney should be here.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Then I strongly recommend you get one.”
Aaron rubbed his hands together.
“I’m not confessing to anything.”
Ian nearly laughed.
“You broke into my house on camera.”
Aaron ignored him.
“Judson came to me eighteen months ago. Tessa wanted to expand the events business. She needed security. She was afraid Ian might get married, have kids, sell the property, whatever.”
Clare sat beside Ian, expression unreadable.
Aaron continued.
“Judson said he could create a lease.”
“With my signature?” Ian asked.
“He said you’d authorized it.”
“Did you believe him?”
Aaron looked away.
“No.”
There it was.
“Who signed?”
“Judson.”
Ian felt something inside him go cold.
Aaron continued quickly.
“I didn’t sign your name.”
“But you helped record it.”
“I drove him.”
Rebecca made a note.
“And the notary?”
Aaron hesitated.
“Friend of his.”
“Name?”
Aaron looked toward Ian.
“What do I get?”
Ian stood.
Rebecca put one hand on his arm.
She looked at Aaron.
“What you get is the possibility that cooperation will be documented accurately.”
Aaron laughed bitterly.
“That’s lawyer language for nothing.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Correct.”
Aaron stared at her.
Then he gave the name.
Paul Mercer.
A retired insurance broker.
Friend of Judson’s for thirty years.
The meeting lasted ninety minutes.
Aaron admitted the events operation had started with Tessa’s idea.
She wanted an income stream without “working for somebody.”
Mother encouraged it.
Judson handled permits informally and kept neighbors quiet.
Aaron managed vendors.
They used Brookfield because it looked expensive and cost them nothing.
“What happened to the money?” Ian asked.
Aaron gave a humorless smile.
“Tessa.”
“All of it?”
“Most.”
“You lived in a penthouse.”
“That was hers too.”
Clare frowned.
“Tessa paid for your apartment?”
Aaron looked embarrassed.
“She wanted somewhere private.”
“While telling everyone she was unemployed?”
Aaron said nothing.
Ian remembered Christmas.
Tessa crying because she could not afford gifts.
Ian giving her five thousand dollars.
Mother praising his generosity.
He felt sick.
Aaron slid a flash drive across the table.
“Client contracts. Payments. messages.”
Rebecca did not touch it immediately.
“How did you obtain these?”
“I was operations.”
“Are these copies?”
“Yes.”
“Did you alter anything?”
“No.”
Ian looked at him.
“Why betray her?”
Aaron’s jaw tightened.
“Because she betrayed me first.”
Of course.
Not conscience.
Self-preservation.
“What happened?”
“She blamed me for everything when Melissa put up the sign. Said if the business collapsed, she’d tell police I forged the lease.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Aaron’s anger looked genuine.
“Judson did.”
After Aaron left, Ian sat silently.
Clare touched his arm.
“I’m sorry.”
He stared at the flash drive.
“My father forged my name.”
Rebecca spoke carefully.
“We still verify everything.”
Ian nodded.
But emotionally, verification had already happened.
He remembered Judson teaching him to sign checks when he was sixteen.
Make your signature consistent, son. A man’s name means something.
Now the same man had stolen it.
Two days later, Rebecca received another surprise.
The county tax office showed Brookfield property taxes were delinquent.
More than $31,000.
Ian stared at the notice.
“I sent money for taxes.”
“Yes,” Rebecca said.
“Every year.”
“I know.”
Melissa frowned.
“A tax lien won’t necessarily kill the sale. It can be paid at closing.”
Ian barely heard her.
His father had not paid the taxes.
He had simply told Ian he had.
Clare flipped through the bank transfers.
“Where did the tax money go?”
They followed the dates.
One large transfer landed in Tessa Carter Events.
Another paid Judson’s private credit card.
A third went to something called JMC HOLDINGS.
Rebecca searched corporate records.
Then she went quiet.
“What?”
She turned the laptop toward Ian.
JMC Holdings belonged to Judson Michael Carter.
Registered address: Brookfield.
Purpose: property investment.
Ian read the filing twice.
Then Rebecca opened the latest document.
JMC Holdings had applied for a private loan six months earlier.
Collateral listed:
Brookfield residence.
Ian looked up slowly.
“My father tried to borrow against my house.”
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Rebecca’s face was grim.
“And according to this lender, he told them he owned it.”
