Chapter 14 - The First Fortune
Thomas Reed had not been robbed.
Not exactly.
That mattered.
Twenty-nine years earlier, Edward Harrington and Thomas Reed co-owned a small property company.
Thomas handled construction.
Edward handled financing and acquisitions.
Their partnership ended after a disastrous redevelopment project.
Thomas wanted to keep borrowing.
Edward refused.
The company split.
Edward retained several properties.
Thomas took cash and two development parcels.
Within four years, Edward’s properties became extremely valuable.
Thomas’s projects failed.
He declared bankruptcy.
He spent the rest of his life insisting Edward had manipulated the split.
“There were lawsuits,” Leonard Pike explained.
“Who won?” Nia asked.
“Edward.”
“That doesn’t mean he was right.”
“No.”
Edward sat across from her in the hospital conference room.
He had insisted on participating.
His device spoke.
“I was legally right.”
Nia looked at him.
“And morally?”
Edward waited.
“I was ruthless.”
That word landed harder.
He explained.
Thomas had been desperate.
Edward knew it.
During negotiations, Edward used Thomas’s financial pressure to obtain stronger terms.
Nothing fraudulent.
Nothing illegal.
But he had known the properties Thomas surrendered might become valuable.
“You let your best friend destroy himself.”
Edward’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was angry.”
“At what?”
“Thomas blamed Evelyn.”
Nia frowned.
“For what?”
Evelyn had urged Edward to leave the partnership.
She believed Thomas’s borrowing could destroy both families.
Thomas accused her of interfering.
One night, drunk and furious, he called Evelyn a parasite.
Edward ended the friendship soon afterward.
Nia sat back.
“So Graham’s wife grew up believing Dad stole her father’s company.”
Pike nodded.
“Caroline has publicly repeated versions of that claim.”
“And Graham went into business with Vincent.”
“Yes.”
Nia looked at Edward.
“Did Vincent know this history when he met Graham?”
Edward selected:
“I don’t know.”
Bell entered.
“We have reason to believe he did.”
He placed records on the table.
Vincent’s first documented meeting with Graham occurred seven years earlier.
Not three.
Nia frowned.
“Vincent told me they barely knew each other.”
Bell nodded.
“They had business contacts before your marriage reached its tenth anniversary.”
“Why hide it?”
“Possibly because Vale’s connection to your father would raise questions.”
Nia thought back.
Vincent had always treated Edward’s business history as boring.
He rolled his eyes when Edward told old stories.
He mocked the loyalty of employees who had spent decades with the company.
Had that also been performance?
Bell continued.
“There’s another detail.”
Vincent’s mother had worked as a paralegal.
Nia knew that.
What she did not know was where.
Denton, Shaw & Briggs.
The same firm connected to North Harbor.
The same firm that once represented Harrington Properties.
Nia whispered, “No.”
Bell nodded.
“Vincent had access to family stories about your father long before he met you.”
“Are you saying he married me because of Dad?”
“We cannot say that.”
Edward made a strained sound.
His device spoke.
“Do not assume.”
Nia looked at him.
Even now, he refused the most dramatic conclusion without proof.
She hated and loved him for it.
Bell agreed.
“There is no evidence your entire marriage was premeditated.”
Nia swallowed.
“But?”
“But Vincent had more knowledge of your family’s financial history than he admitted.”
Later, Nia listened to an old voicemail Vincent had left during their first year dating.
Your father acts like everyone wants something from him.
Maybe one day he’ll realize some of us just want you.
She covered her mouth.
At the time, the sentence had felt romantic.
Now she heard the hidden architecture.
Your father.
Money.
Suspicion.
Me versus him.
That evening, prosecutors added charges connected to forged financial documents.
Vincent remained free on a substantial bond with electronic monitoring while litigation continued over additional restrictions.
Nia hated that he was outside a jail cell.
Bell reminded her that the case had to survive court.
She knew.
Still hated it.
Then Claire called.
“My office was broken into.”
Nia stood.
“What?”
“Nothing obvious was stolen.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“What did they want?”
Claire’s voice tightened.
“My computer.”
Nia’s pulse rose.
“The intake records?”
“I backed them up.”
“Did they get the original?”
“The hard drive was removed.”
Nia immediately called Bell.
By midnight, investigators were inside Claire’s funeral home.
The burglary looked targeted.
No cash taken.
No merchandise.
Only one computer.
Claire stood beside the damaged office door, furious.
Nia touched her arm.
“This is because you helped my father.”
Claire looked at her.
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is because someone still thinks the records matter.”
Nia understood.
Vincent was charged.
The coffin video existed.
The conspiracy was already exposed.
Yet someone was still destroying evidence.
Which meant the story was not finished.
Then Bell emerged from Claire’s office carrying a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a small piece of paper found beneath the desk.
A handwritten phone number.
Claire stared at it.
“I didn’t write that.”
Bell checked the number.
His expression changed.
It belonged to Caroline Vale.
Graham’s wife.
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Thomas Reed’s daughter.
The woman whose family had blamed Edward Harrington for nearly thirty years.
