Chapter 14 - The NDA
Daniel Price disappeared the next morning.
Not literally.
His lawyer informed investigators that Daniel was unavailable for voluntary interviews pending negotiations regarding his own legal exposure.
His office was empty.
His Chicago apartment showed no sign of recent occupancy.
Marcus believed Gloria had hidden him.
Nia disagreed.
“Daniel has survived eleven years by being useful to Gloria. Now he may survive by becoming useful to prosecutors.”
Maya looked at the copy of Daniel’s letter.
“So he’s bargaining.”
“Probably.”
“For immunity?”
“More likely reduced exposure. He admitted wrongdoing.”
“Can they trust him?”
“They don’t need to trust him. They need to verify him.”
At noon, another envelope arrived.
This one came from Gloria’s attorneys.
A formal cease-and-desist demand.
Maya was accused of making defamatory statements regarding Gloria and the foundation.
Marcus received one too.
Teresa Walker received a third.
Attached was a proposed confidentiality agreement.
Marcus read it aloud over lunch.
“‘All parties agree to refrain from discussing private family matters, foundation governance, historic interpersonal incidents, or alleged financial irregularities with media, donors, employees, or third parties.’”
He looked up.
“She wants an NDA over reality.”
Nia said, “She can propose anything.”
Amara sat at the far end of the table doing homework.
Maya glanced toward her.
Amara looked up.
“You don’t have to stop talking because I’m here.”
Nia smiled faintly.
“Your daughter is becoming difficult to exclude from meetings.”
Maya sighed.
“She inherited that.”
Marcus grinned.
“From me.”
“Absolutely not.”
For a moment, they laughed.
Then Nia’s assistant entered.
“There’s breaking news.”
A television in the conference room turned on.
Gloria stood outside Ashbourne House before a row of microphones.
Maya stared.
“What is she doing?”
A reporter asked, “Mrs. Lewis, did you misuse charitable funds?”
Gloria answered calmly.
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you transfer money from an account belonging to your granddaughter?”
“I will not discuss a minor’s private finances.”
“Did you strike her?”
Gloria paused.
“I made a mistake in an emotional family moment, and I have apologized.”
Another reporter shouted, “Why was Daniel Price paid millions by the Lewis Foundation?”
Gloria’s expression changed almost imperceptibly.
“I do not manage vendor payments.”
Marcus stared.
“She’s distancing herself.”
A reporter asked whether Marcus authorized the Sterling contracts.
Gloria looked directly into the cameras.
“I trust that investigators will follow the documents wherever they lead.”
Marcus stood.
Maya whispered, “She’s framing you.”
Gloria continued.
“I will not prejudge any family member.”
Marcus laughed in disbelief.
“She forged my signature and now she’s pretending to protect me.”
Amara looked at him.
“Can you prove it?”
Marcus turned.
Her question was so simple it steadied him.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I was somewhere else when some documents were signed.”
“Then prove that.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
Nia muted the television.
“That press conference tells us something.”
“What?”
“Gloria believes the financial investigation is more dangerous than the assault case.”
Maya understood.
The slap humiliated her mother.
The money could destroy her authority.
That evening, Marcus began building a timeline.
Flight records.
Hotel receipts.
Passport stamps.
Conference photographs.
Hospital records.
For seventeen of the twenty-three suspicious contracts, he could prove he had been somewhere else or had not accessed the authorization system.
For four others, metadata showed logins from Gloria’s private office network.
Two remained uncertain.
“Enough for reasonable doubt,” Nia said.
“I don’t want reasonable doubt.”
Marcus stared at the screen.
“I want the truth.”
Meanwhile, Amara had begun receiving letters.
Hundreds.
Some from strangers who had experienced abusive relatives.
Some from children.
Some from adults.
Maya screened them carefully.
One envelope contained a handwritten note from a sixteen-year-old girl in Detroit.
My aunt hit me when I embarrassed her. Everyone told me to forgive because she was family. I watched you leave that ballroom and told my counselor the truth the next day.
Amara read it twice.
Then again.
Maya watched.
“You okay?”
“I think so.”
“You don’t have to answer.”
“I want to.”
Amara took out paper.
She wrote:
I’m glad you told someone. I’m still figuring things out too.
Then she stopped.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think Grandma is bad?”
Maya considered carefully.
“I think people can do bad things without being made of nothing except badness.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“It is.”
“Would it be easier if she was just evil?”
“Yes.”
Amara thought about that.
Then she returned to the letter.
Her phone buzzed.
A message request appeared from an account she did not recognize.
Maya reached for the phone.
“Don’t open—”
Too late.
A photograph loaded.
It showed Maya leaving Nia’s office.
The message beneath it read:
YOUR MOTHER IS USING YOU TO TAKE THE FAMILY MONEY.
Amara’s face went white.
A second message appeared.
ASK HER WHAT SHE GETS IF GLORIA FALLS.
Maya grabbed the phone.
Marcus stood.
“Who sent that?”
The account vanished seconds later.
Nia took screenshots.
Amara stared at Maya.
“I know it’s probably fake.”
Maya’s heart hurt at the word probably.
She knelt.
“I am not doing this for money.”
“I know.”
“You can ask me anything.”
Amara looked toward the phone.
Then back at Maya.
“What do you get if Grandma loses everything?”
Maya answered immediately.
“My daughter.”
Amara’s eyes filled.
Maya continued.
“That is the only thing in this fight I’m not willing to lose.”
Behind them, Marcus’s laptop chimed.
A forensic investigator had traced one of the anonymous harassment accounts.
Not to Gloria.
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To a public-relations contractor paid by Lewis Hospitality Group.
And the person who approved the payment was Gloria’s chief of staff.
