Chapter 9 - The Ledger
By the end of the week, David stopped referring to the situation as “the family matter.”
He called it “the Mercer investigation.”
That scared me more than I wanted to admit.
The ledger was photographed on Mark’s phone eighteen months earlier.
Priya enlarged every page.
Most entries were gambling debts.
Some were repayments.
Others were initials beside dollar amounts.
But one page was different.
It listed banking information.
Partial account numbers.
Security questions.
Employee names.
Even notes about when certain people were traveling.
My name appeared three times.
I stared at the screen.
“He was planning access.”
David shook his head.
“We can’t say that yet.”
“What else is this?”
“Information.”
“Information for what?”
“That’s what we need to establish.”
Then Priya pointed to another name.
G. Bennett.
Gary.
The former controller.
“He listed Gary’s phone number and wife’s maiden name.”
I felt cold.
“Did Mark hack anything?”
“No evidence yet.”
“But he collected information.”
“Yes.”
Rachel entered with another file.
“We found something from five years ago.”
A failed login attempt.
From an IP address later associated with Mark’s house.
My throat tightened.
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Successful?”
“No.”
Thank God.
I leaned back.
“So he tried?”
“We can’t prove who was physically at the computer.”
But we all knew.
That afternoon, Vanessa called.
“I want to move out.”
“Then move.”
“I don’t have money.”
I almost laughed.
Old reflex.
The old Daniel might have immediately asked how much she needed.
Instead I said, “Talk to your attorney.”
“You won’t help?”
“No.”
“Even with Chloe?”
“If Chloe needs food, school supplies, medical care, or something essential, I will consider paying a provider directly.”
She went silent.
“But I’m not giving you cash.”
“I understand.”
She didn’t sound angry.
Maybe reality was finally arriving.
Then she said, “There’s something you should know.”
My stomach sank.
“What now?”
“The night Mark’s company collapsed…”
“Yes?”
“He didn’t come home until four in the morning.”
“Why?”
“He was with Reece.”
“Gambling?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“He told me he had one chance to win back enough to cover payroll.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
The company wasn’t destroyed by one unlucky contract.
It was hollowed out.
Then Mark tried to gamble his way out.
When that failed, he used me.
“What did he lose that night?”
“About ninety thousand.”
“Company money?”
“Yes.”
I said nothing.
Vanessa began crying.
“I should have stopped him.”
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“Instead you let me pay your mortgage.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was ashamed.”
“No.”
I surprised myself with how calm I sounded.
“You were comfortable.”
She stopped crying for a second.
Maybe because she knew I was right.
That evening, Tyler came by my house.
He brought takeout.
“I figured you probably forgot dinner.”
I smiled.
“I did.”
We ate at the kitchen island.
Halfway through, he asked, “Can I stay here for a few days?”
My fork stopped.
“What happened?”
“Dad came home.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he threaten anyone?”
“No.”
“He just keeps yelling?”
Tyler shook his head.
“That’s worse.”
“What?”
“He’s calm.”
I understood.
“What did he say?”
“He told Chloe none of this would be happening if Mom kept her mouth shut.”
My jaw tightened.
“And he told me I betrayed him.”
I put down my fork.
“You can stay.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What about Dad?”
“This is my house.”
Tyler looked relieved.
Then guilty.
“I don’t want him thinking I chose you.”
“You chose somewhere you feel safe.”
He nodded.
That night, I made up the guest room.
The same kind of room where this had started.
Except Tyler wasn’t there because I bought anything.
He was there because he trusted me.
That mattered.
Around midnight, I heard movement.
Tyler stood in the hallway.
“Can’t sleep?”
He shook his head.
Then he asked, “Do you hate Dad?”
I thought carefully.
“No.”
“How?”
“Because hate takes energy.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I sighed.
“I hate some things he did.”
“Do you still love him?”
“Yes.”
Tyler looked confused.
“People are complicated.”
“That sucks.”
I laughed quietly.
“Yeah.”
He leaned against the wall.
“I keep remembering normal stuff.”
“Like what?”
“Fishing.”
Mark had taken us all fishing when Tyler was ten.
Mark had been patient.
Funny.
Happy.
That was the tragedy.
Bad choices did not erase every good memory.
But good memories could not erase bad choices either.
The next morning, David called before sunrise.
“Mark’s attorney contacted us.”
“What does he want?”
“A settlement discussion.”
“Settlement?”
“Repayment plan. Confidentiality. Mutual releases.”
I stared out the window.
“He wants me to walk away.”
“Essentially.”
“How much is he offering?”
David paused.
“One hundred thousand.”
I actually laughed.
“On exposure potentially exceeding half a million?”
“More once everything is counted.”
“What condition?”
“You stop the audit.”
There it was.
“What’s he hiding?”
“I had the same question.”
Then David said, “There’s another development.”
“What?”
“Priya identified a transfer from seven years ago.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
“Destination?”
“A company in Nevada.”
“Connected to Mark?”
“Not directly.”
“Then who?”
David hesitated.
“A woman named Allison Grant.”
I did not know the name.
But Mark did.
Because when I searched my old messages, I found one from him dated seven years earlier.
DANNY, IF ANYONE NAMED ALLISON EVER CONTACTS YOU, IGNORE HER. SHE’S CRAZY.
At the time, I had forgotten it within minutes.
May you like
Now I stared at the message and wondered why my brother had been afraid of Allison Grant before his company ever collapsed.
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