Chapter 4 - Six Million Eight Hundred Thousand
James lunged for the recorder.
Henry caught his wrist.
“Don't.”
“Turn it off.”
“Why?”
“You don't know the context.”
Henry's grip tightened.
“Then let's hear it.”
Miriam placed the recorder farther away.
Beatrice's voice continued.
“You transferred money from the restoration reserve into Aster Gate Holdings.”
Recorded James answered.
“I was going to put it back.”
“With what?”
“The Riverside deal.”
“That deal is underwater.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know everything you hoped I wouldn't.”
Present-day James lowered his head.
Henry stared at him.
“Aster Gate?”
James remained silent.
Henry knew the name vaguely.
Aster Gate Holdings had appeared on a few internal reports as a property consultancy.
He had never known James owned it.
The recording continued.
Beatrice's voice was calm.
“You took money meant for Mercy Row.”
“It's still family money.”
“No.”
“Mom—”
“No. That sentence is exactly why I no longer trust you.”
Henry felt his stomach tighten.
James finally spoke.
“I borrowed it.”
Celeste laughed bitterly.
“Six point eight million dollars?”
“I was trying to save a deal.”
Henry turned.
“A personal deal?”
James said nothing.
“James.”
“Yes.”
Henry stared at him.
“You stole almost seven million dollars.”
“I moved money I believed we controlled.”
“We?”
“Don't stand there like you've never used company structures aggressively.”
Henry stepped closer.
“Did I know?”
“No.”
“Did I approve it?”
“No.”
“Then don't say we.”
James's eyes hardened.
“You approved Mercy Row.”
Henry went still.
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this.”
Miriam paused the recording.
“What exactly did Henry approve?”
James looked toward him.
“The redevelopment.”
Henry shook his head.
“Mercy Row redevelopment was reviewed by planning, legal, finance—”
“And Mom told you to stop it.”
Henry remembered.
Three years earlier, Beatrice had walked into his office carrying a thick folder.
He had been preparing for an investor meeting.
She had told him Mercy Row was “unfinished family business.”
Henry had told her the project had already cleared internal review.
She had asked him to read the folder.
He hadn't.
He had handed it to his chief of staff.
The memory landed differently now.
James saw recognition.
“There.”
Henry's voice turned cold.
“What?”
“You remember.”
“I remember Mom opposing development.”
“You remember refusing to hear why.”
Henry looked toward the ledger.
Miriam resumed the recording.
Beatrice said, “James, I am giving you thirty days.”
“For what?”
“To tell your brother.”
“Henry will destroy me.”
“Henry may surprise you.”
“You don't know Henry.”
A pause.
Then Beatrice answered.
“I raised him.”
James paced away.
The recording continued.
“If you tell him, I will help you restore the money without protecting you from the consequences.”
“And if I don't?”
“I will secure the originals.”
“Where?”
“That is no longer your concern.”
“You'll tear this family apart.”
“No, James. Secrets tear families apart. Truth simply shows where the cracks already were.”
Miriam stopped the recording.
James's face shone with sweat.
Henry whispered, “Thirty days.”
James stared at the floor.
“She gave you thirty days.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of telling me?”
“I tried to fix it.”
“How?”
James did not answer.
Miriam turned pages in the red ledger.
Near the back, several entries were underlined.
Aster Gate Holdings.
Wire transfers.
$850,000.
$1.2 million.
$600,000.
$2.1 million.
Total: $6.8 million.
Each transfer had been made over fourteen months.
Henry felt physically sick.
“Where's the money now?”
James rubbed his jaw.
“Mostly gone.”
Celeste whispered, “Jesus.”
Henry stepped backward.
“How?”
“The Riverside project collapsed.”
“What project?”
“A hotel conversion.”
Henry stared.
“You risked restoration money on a hotel?”
“I thought it would triple.”
“You thought.”
James shouted, “I was trying to build something that wasn't yours!”
The room froze.
There it was.
Something deeper than money.
James's voice cracked.
“You inherited Dad's chair. His office. His title. Every room we walked into, people looked at you first.”
Henry stared at him.
“So you stole from Mom?”
“I wanted one thing that belonged to me.”
“That money belonged to people we apparently already robbed once.”
James looked away.
Henry turned to Miriam.
“Call our auditors.”
James snapped his head up.
“Henry.”
“Independent auditors.”
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because once you do that, this doesn't stay inside the family.”
Henry looked around the mansion.
The chandeliers.
The art.
The marble.
The wealth.
For the first time, every beautiful object looked like evidence.
Miriam picked up the brass deposit-box key.
“This also needs identification.”
A tiny engraved number was visible.
Celeste stepped closer.
“I know that bank.”
Everyone looked at her.
“How?”
“Beatrice took me there after Franklin's funeral.”
Henry's heart began pounding.
“What did she put in the box?”
Celeste shook her head.
“She wouldn't tell me.”
James whispered, “Mom never mentioned a bank box.”
Ethan had been quiet for several minutes.
Now he looked at James.
“Yes, she did.”
James stared at him.
Ethan pointed at the brass key.
“She called it her second door.”
Henry crouched.
“What else did she say?”
Ethan thought carefully.
“She said the wall would show you what happened.”
He pointed toward the key.
“But the second door would show you why.”
James abruptly turned toward the safe.
Then Henry understood.
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His brother wasn't afraid only of what they had found.
He was afraid of something they hadn't found yet.
