Chapter 5 - The Charity
Northstar had once been the thing I was proudest of after Lily.
We held hospital drives. Paid hotel bills for parents. Raised money at winter galas.
At least, I thought we did.
Thomas followed the records.
Fake vendors.
Inflated invoices.
Consulting fees.
Payments routed from Northstar into Blue Meridian.
By lunch, he had documented more than twenty-three million dollars in suspicious transfers across the company, trusts, and charity.
I stared at the number.
“Twenty-three million?”
“That we can see so far.”
Almost eight hundred thousand had gone directly or indirectly to Julianne.
Condo payments.
A car.
Jewelry.
Travel.
I wanted to call her every name I knew.
Patel stopped me with one sentence.
“Anger is not evidence.”
So I gave them evidence.
Old emails.
Access logs.
The forged refinancing documents.
Records of Lily’s trusts.
Then an accountant from Vance Strategic called me.
“Elena Ruiz,” she whispered. “I have originals David told me to delete.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Why didn’t you delete them?”
“Because I was scared.”
“Of David?”
“No.”
Her breath shook.
“Of what happened to the last person who tried to stop him.”
A loud bang hit the other end.
Elena gasped.
The call disconnected.
Price told me not to move.
I went anyway, with Rachel beside me.
Police were already at Elena’s apartment.
She was alive. Someone had tried her door and run.
She left a flash drive for investigators.
On it were years of coded payments and a handwritten note.
Blue Meridian is David’s.
Frank knows everything.
Northstar is being drained.
The next morning, Frank’s Wisconsin cabin was searched.
He was gone, but investigators found burned records behind the property.
One half-destroyed page survived.
BLUE MERIDIAN — CONTINGENCY.
Another line was readable.
If MV obstructs transfer, initiate personal exposure sequence.
MV.
Maya Vance.
Rachel stared at me.
“What could that mean?”
I knew.
David had spent years saving my private texts, therapy information, panic attacks, anything that could make me look unstable.
Once, during an argument, he said, “If you ever try to take Lily, I’ll make sure a judge knows how fragile you are.”
I had thought it was anger.
Now I understood.
It was preparation.
Then Thomas pulled up a photo David had posted from the yacht.
In the glass door behind him was a reflection.
Frank Delaney.
May you like
Frank had not disappeared.
He had flown to the Bahamas to meet David.
