Chapter 10 - The Betrayal Beneath Hayes Capital
By nine the next morning, Hayes Tower was surrounded.
Reporters filled the sidewalks.
Federal vehicles occupied the underground entrance.
Employees gathered in nervous clusters inside the lobby.
Desmond’s black sedan stopped directly in front.
Beatrice looked through the window.
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“There are hundreds of cameras.”
“I noticed.”
“We could use the garage.”
“No.”
“You enjoy making entrances.”
“Occasionally.”
He stepped out.
The crowd erupted.
Questions flew from every direction.
“Mr. Hayes, are you under investigation?”
“Miss Gallagher, did you manage the accounts?”
“Is the engagement real?”
“Are you leaving Chicago?”
Desmond waited for Beatrice.
She emerged wearing a dark coat.
The diamond ring visible.
He offered his hand.
For half a second, she hesitated.
Then took it.
Cameras exploded with flashes.
They walked through the chaos together.
Inside the lobby, silence followed them.
Desmond addressed no one.
Until they reached the elevator.
Then he turned toward every employee watching.
“Hayes Capital remains open.”
A reporter shouted from outside.
Desmond continued.
“No employee will miss a paycheck. No client assets will be moved without authorization. And no one in this company is to destroy, alter, or remove a single document.”
That last sentence mattered.
Some faces changed.
Beatrice noticed.
Including Adrian Kessler’s.
He stood near the executive elevators.
Waiting.
“Office,” Desmond said.
Adrian followed.
The doors closed.
As soon as they reached the top floor, Adrian spoke.
“You should leave the country.”
Desmond almost laughed.
“That’s your advice?”
“For forty-eight hours.”
“Why?”
“Because federal investigators may attempt detention.”
“On what charge?”
“We don’t know.”
“Then why run?”
Adrian looked toward Beatrice.
“Because someone has been managing accounts using Gallagher authorizations.”
Beatrice stared.
“Impossible.”
“Your credentials appear on sixteen transfers.”
“They were forged.”
“Perhaps.”
Desmond stepped between them.
“You sound unconvinced.”
“I’m your attorney. My job is to consider every possibility.”
“Then consider this.”
Desmond placed Patrick Gallagher's journal on the desk.
Adrian's face changed.
There.
Proof.
Small.
But unmistakable.
“You've seen it,” Beatrice said.
Adrian recovered quickly.
“No.”
“You knew what it was before he opened it.”
Silence.
Desmond watched his mentor.
“Tell me she's wrong.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Desmond.”
“Tell me.”
Instead Adrian slowly sat.
The performance ended.
His shoulders changed.
His expression relaxed.
He suddenly looked older.
And colder.
“You were never supposed to find the cabin.”
Beatrice stopped breathing.
Desmond’s face became unreadable.
“So it was you.”
Adrian looked toward the skyline.
“Your father left chaos behind.”
“My father left you rich.”
“Your father left me beneath him.”
Desmond said nothing.
“For thirty years,” Adrian continued, “I built half of what carried the Hayes name. Walter took credit. Walter took ownership. Walter gave orders.”
“So you stole.”
“I corrected the arrangement.”
“You used Patrick Gallagher.”
Adrian looked at Beatrice.
“He was supposed to sign documents.”
“He refused.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“I ordered surveillance.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“I did not order his death.”
Beatrice watched closely.
She believed him.
Maybe.
“He discovered Rourke,” Adrian said.
“Rourke worked for you,” Desmond answered.
“At first.”
“What changed?”
“Ambition.”
Adrian smiled without humor.
“Thomas wanted everything immediately. I preferred patience.”
“Sixteen years of patience.”
“Yes.”
“You stayed beside me.”
“I protected you.”
“You used me.”
“Both can be true.”
That answer hurt more than denial.
Desmond's hands remained still at his sides.
Adrian continued.
“When Walter died, dozens of men wanted your position. I stopped them.”
“So I’d trust you.”
“So the organization survived.”
“For you.”
“For us.”
“No.”
Desmond shook his head.
“There is no us.”
Adrian looked genuinely saddened.
“You sound like your father.”
“That may be the cruelest thing you've ever said to me.”
Beatrice placed the original ledger on the desk.
Adrian's eyes fixed on it.
“There.”
She whispered.
“That’s what you want.”
Adrian did not deny it.
“Give it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because if federal investigators get it, thousands of people become targets.”
“People who committed crimes?” Beatrice asked.
“People whose families depend on them.”
Desmond laughed coldly.
“The same argument my father used.”
Adrian turned toward him.
“You think going legitimate makes you innocent?”
“No.”
That stopped him.
Desmond continued.
“I know exactly what I inherited.”
“Then you know the ledger can destroy you.”
“Yes.”
“And you're willing to risk that for her?”
Adrian nodded toward Beatrice.
Desmond’s answer came immediately.
“This stopped being about her long ago.”
Beatrice felt something tighten in her chest.
Desmond stepped closer to Adrian.
“You framed her because you thought I would protect the company before I protected the truth.”
“I thought you would behave rationally.”
“I am.”
Desmond picked up the ledger.
Then opened his office doors.
Outside stood two federal investigators.
Adrian’s face finally lost composure.
“What have you done?”
Desmond looked at him.
“The one thing you never believed I would.”
He handed the ledger to the lead investigator.
“Everything you need is inside.”
Beatrice stared at him.
The ledger implicated Hayes holdings too.
Desmond had just surrendered evidence that could cost him his company, his fortune, and potentially his freedom.
Adrian stood slowly.
“You fool.”
“Maybe.”
The investigators approached.
Adrian gave Beatrice one final look.
“You think you won?”
She said nothing.
He smiled.
“You still don't know what happened to your father.”
The smile disappeared from her face.
Adrian was escorted away.
Beatrice turned toward Desmond.
“What did he mean?”
Desmond didn't know.
But several minutes later, an encrypted email arrived.
One attachment.
A fifteen-year-old audio recording.
Patrick Gallagher's voice.
Beatrice pressed play.
Static.
Then:
“If you're hearing this, Adrian probably believes I'm dead.”
Beatrice froze.
Desmond stared at the speaker.
The recording continued.
“But if everything went according to plan, I'm not.”
Beatrice's knees nearly gave way.
Her father had died fifteen years ago.
She had attended his funeral.
She had buried an empty hope with him.
Now his voice filled Desmond’s office.
And it was saying something impossible.
May you like
Patrick Gallagher might have survived.
---
