Chapter 5 - Lydia Prescott Did Not Want Revenge
Lydia looked nothing like her sister.
That surprised Victoria.
Ms. Prescott carried herself like someone permanently braced for challenge.
Lydia looked tired.
Soft-spoken.
Almost cautious.
She sat in the last booth of a roadside diner with a canvas folder beside her coffee.
Grace sat next to Victoria.
No Crownwell security.
No assistants.
“You look like Thomas,” Lydia said.
Victoria stiffened.
“People used to say that.”
“He listened better.”
Victoria almost stood.
Lydia raised a hand.
“That was unfair.”
“No. Maybe not.”
Victoria sat back.
“Show me.”
Lydia opened the folder.
Bank statements.
Internal emails.
A handwritten timeline.
Twelve years old.
The scholarship trust held money earmarked for children of Crownwell employees.
At the time, approximately $14 million.
Over six months, $1.8 million moved through four transfers.
Lydia noticed because one authorization code belonged to a department that did not administer scholarships.
“Malcolm?”
Lydia nodded.
“He said they were temporary bridge transfers.”
“For what?”
“Redwood Education Properties.”
Grace asked:
“Who owned it?”
“A trust controlled by Malcolm’s lawyer.”
“Beneficial owner?”
Lydia slid forward an old declaration.
MALCOLM.
Victoria felt cold.
“Why buy land near Hawthorne?”
“He believed Crownwell would eventually need an education campus.”
“That sounds almost reasonable.”
“It would have been if he used his own money.”
Lydia looked at Victoria.
“He wanted the upside privately.”
Malcolm planned to acquire the land cheaply through Redwood.
Then sell it later to Crownwell once development increased the value.
Double benefit.
Company resources helped improve the area.
His private entity captured the appreciation.
“Self-dealing,” Grace said.
“Exactly.”
“Why frame you?”
“Because I told Thomas.”
Victoria looked up.
“My father knew?”
“Yes.”
That hurt.
“When?”
“Two weeks before I was fired.”
“What did he do?”
“He confronted Malcolm.”
“How do you know?”
“Because your father called me afterward.”
Lydia remembered Thomas sounding furious.
He told her not to resign.
Not to destroy documents.
He promised independent review.
Then Victoria returned from maternity leave.
Malcolm moved first.
He presented evidence that Lydia had manipulated authorization records and diverted the $1.8 million herself.
“He made it look like I created Redwood?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I sign your termination without speaking to you?”
Lydia gave her a sad look.
“You tell me.”
Victoria remembered Logan at five months old.
Fevers.
No sleep.
An executive team that treated maternity leave like an inconvenience.
Malcolm saying:
“You don’t need this mess. Trust me.”
She had.
“I failed you.”
Lydia’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
No easy absolution.
Victoria nodded.
“Okay.”
Grace looked between them.
“Was the money recovered?”
“Eventually.”
“How?”
“Crownwell bought the parcel from Redwood eight years ago.”
“For seventeen million.”
Lydia nodded.
“That repaid the scholarship account plus interest.”
Victoria stared.
Malcolm had effectively used Crownwell’s money to acquire land privately—
then Crownwell paid him much more to buy it back.
“And the board approved that purchase?”
“Yes.”
“Who was CEO?”
“Your father.”
Victoria felt another blow.
“Thomas knew Redwood was Malcolm’s?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ever tell him?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
Lydia opened another folder.
A letter addressed to Thomas.
RETURN TO SENDER.
Date:
One week after Lydia’s termination.
Malcolm’s office controlled executive mail.
Victoria swallowed.
“What happened to you?”
Lydia looked at the window.
“I signed the settlement.”
“Why?”
“They threatened criminal referral.”
“Did you steal anything?”
“No.”
“Why not fight?”
“My husband had just lost his job.”
She looked at Victoria.
“My daughter was six.”
Money.
Fear.
Family.
“I was told if I signed, Crownwell would characterize it as a confidential internal compliance matter instead of theft.”
“So you disappeared.”
“Professionally.”
Lydia could not work in corporate audit again.
Background checks asked why she left.
She could not answer because of the NDA.
Her marriage survived.
Barely.
Her sister did not forgive.
“Ms. Prescott blamed me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“For years.”
“And now?”
Lydia considered.
“I blame you for signing something you didn’t understand.”
Victoria accepted it.
“I blame Malcolm for creating the lie.”
Another distinction.
“My sister stopped making distinctions.”
“Why?”
“Because anger was easier.”
Victoria thought of the scissors.
Lydia looked ashamed.
“She told me last month that Logan was in her class.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her to leave him alone.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Why not tell me?”
Lydia looked at her.
“I didn’t trust you.”
Fair.
Then Grace pointed toward the timeline.
“There’s a gap.”
Eight years ago.
The year Crownwell bought Redwood’s property.
Also the year Thomas died.
Lydia nodded.
“I know.”
Victoria’s pulse changed.
“Are you suggesting my father’s death was suspicious?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Thomas had a documented heart condition. I’m not inventing murder because the truth is already bad enough.”
Victoria appreciated that.
“Then what’s the gap?”
Lydia reached into her folder.
“Your father sent me one voicemail three months before he died.”
She played it.
Thomas’s voice filled the booth.
“Lydia, I owe you an apology. I found enough to know Malcolm lied. I’m trying to unwind it without destroying the company. I need a little time.”
Victoria closed her eyes.
Her father knew.
Then Thomas continued:
“If something happens to me before we speak, do not trust the Redwood sale.”
The recording ended.
Grace whispered:
“The sale happened four months later.”
Lydia nodded.
“And now Malcolm is trying to sell that same land again.”
Victoria looked at the documents.
“Why would Ms. Prescott humiliate Logan today?”
Lydia shook her head.
“She wanted you to finally look at me.”
“That explains her.”
“Not Bell.”
“No.”
“And not why Malcolm knew the exact moment you left your board meeting.”
Victoria’s phone rang.
Hawthorne’s board chair.
They had reviewed preliminary security footage.
Principal Bell had entered his office at 1:07 p.m.
He made one call.
Duration:
Eleven seconds.
Recipient number belonged to—
Malcolm’s private office.
Victoria stared at Lydia.
Her sister wanted revenge.
May you like
But Malcolm had taken that revenge—
and turned it into a weapon of his own.
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