Chapter 4 - THE SON WHO CALLED HIM CONFUSEDSamuel Price had worked for Everett for thirty-two years.
He did not panic.
He did not exaggerate.
And he never used the phrase you should see this unless something was wrong.
Everett met him the next morning at the private accounting office attached to Holloway Development’s downtown headquarters.
The city was still gray with early rain.
Samuel placed a stack of printouts on the conference table.
“Before we start,” he said, “are you feeling all right?”
Everett’s eyes narrowed.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
Samuel studied him.
“Because Preston asked me the same question about you three weeks ago.”
Everett went still.
“What did he ask?”
“If I’d noticed you repeating yourself. Missing deadlines. Approving things and forgetting.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“I did.”
Samuel pushed one page forward.
“He didn’t like the answer.”
Everett read the page.
It showed a transfer from Holloway Urban Holdings into a separate investment partnership.
Amount: $180,000.
Then another.
$95,000.
Then $240,000.
Everett looked up.
“What is this?”
“Money moving into a Lexington hotel redevelopment called Blue Heron Partners.”
“I’ve never approved Blue Heron.”
“I know.”
“Who did?”
“Preston.”
“He doesn’t have unilateral authority for this amount.”
“He used a subsidiary authorization.”
Everett’s face hardened.
“Which he should not have used for an outside investment.”
“Correct.”
“How much?”
Samuel hesitated.
“Total exposure?”
“Yes.”
“Just over eight hundred and forty thousand.”
Everett leaned back.
For the first time since Onyx spoke, he felt something colder than anger.
Disappointment.
“What happened to the project?”
“It stalled.”
“How badly?”
“Badly enough that the lender has issued notices.”
Everett shut his eyes for a second.
Preston had not been planning succession.
He had been planning protection.
For himself.
Samuel slid another page forward.
“There’s more.”
Everett read it.
A reimbursement request.
Celia Holloway.
Consulting expenses.
$48,000.
Another.
$62,500.
Another.
“Why is Celia submitting business expenses?”
“She isn’t employed by Holloway.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then I can’t answer that.”
Everett looked at the signatures.
Preston.
Celia.
A third approval line had been left blank.
His.
Samuel said, “Several payments were held because finance asked for your authorization.”
Everett looked at him.
“Were those papers in the folder?”
“Possibly.”
The logic came together.
The birthday.
The signatures.
The urgency.
The capacity paperwork.
If Everett refused, they could characterize him as unreasonable.
If he signed, the immediate crisis disappeared.
Either way, Preston gained leverage.
Everett stood.
“I want no one alerted that I know.”
Samuel nodded.
“Understood.”
“I want a forensic review.”
“Already started.”
Everett looked at him sharply.
Samuel shrugged.
“I’ve known you long enough.”
For the first time that morning, Everett almost smiled.
Then Samuel’s expression changed.
“There is one thing I need to ask.”
“What?”
“Do you trust Lorraine?”
Everett’s face closed.
“Why?”
Samuel pointed at another transfer request.
It was smaller.
$75,000.
The source was not a company account.
It was a private marital investment account.
The authorization code belonged to Lorraine.
Everett stared at it.
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
He said nothing.
Samuel continued.
“It went to Preston.”
Everett folded the page once.
Then again.
When he returned to the mansion, Lorraine was in the breakfast room.
She looked up from her coffee.
“You left early.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you go?”
“To see Samuel.”
Her hand stopped.
Everett noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He placed the folded transfer record on the table.
“Open it.”
She did.
The color left her face.
Everett remained standing.
“You gave him seventy-five thousand dollars.”
Lorraine looked at the page.
“Yes.”
“And did not tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He was in trouble.”
“What kind?”
“He said a project was delayed.”
“He stole company money.”
Lorraine looked up.
“What?”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I did not know.”
“He has moved more than eight hundred thousand dollars into a failing investment.”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Everett watched her reaction.
It looked genuine.
But yesterday, he would have trusted that instinct without hesitation.
Today, he trusted nothing.
“Why did you give him money?”
“He came to me.”
“And?”
“He said he couldn’t come to you.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No. Tell me.”
Lorraine’s eyes filled.
“Because he knew you’d think he failed.”
Everett’s voice dropped.
“He did fail.”
“That doesn’t mean he deserved to drown.”
“And you thought lying to me was the answer?”
“I thought helping our son was.”
Everett stared at her.
“That is how people justify almost every family betrayal.”
She stood.
“That’s unfair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
He took a breath.
“Did you open my study safe?”
Lorraine froze.
Everett saw it.
That was enough to make his pulse rise.
“Answer me.”
She looked away.
“Once.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Preston wanted copies of the trust documents.”
Everett felt the room tilt.
“You gave him my trust documents?”
“No. I looked.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“I took photographs.”
Everett closed his eyes.
“Jesus Christ.”
“He said the lawyers needed to understand the structure.”
“Whose lawyers?”
“His.”
Everett laughed quietly.
“And you still believe you weren’t participating.”
Lorraine’s face crumpled.
“I thought I was helping protect this family.”
“From whom?”
She had no answer.
Everett walked toward the door.
Behind him, Lorraine said:
“Where are you going?”
He stopped.
“To change the safe code.”
Her voice broke.
“Everett.”
He turned back once.
“Until yesterday, there were two people who knew that code.”
She stared.
“Now there’s one.”
That afternoon, he asked the house security manager to pull the access logs from the previous month.
At 1:17 a.m. three nights earlier, someone had entered the upper hallway.
Using a guest-level code.
The code belonged to Celia.
Everett printed the report.
Then sat alone at his desk.
Onyx was outside the study.
The bird made a soft tapping sound with his beak.
Everett stared at the page.
One son hiding debt.
One wife hiding money.
One daughter-in-law entering the private floor in the middle of the night.
And a parrot repeating threats.
May you like
He was no longer asking whether something was wrong.
He was asking how many people were involved.
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