Chapter 6 - A Different Kind of Offer
Dominic asked to meet at Mara’s office.
That mattered.
He could have summoned me to some dark restaurant and made fear part of the conversation.
Instead, he arrived at two, shook Mara’s hand, and waited until I sat down.
“My financing team found inconsistencies,” he said. “Your answers at dinner confirmed them.”
“So you knew my father was lying.”
“I suspected someone else was doing the work.”
“Why not say that before he humiliated me?”
His gaze stayed on mine.
“I should have challenged the presentation sooner.”
No excuse.
It caught me off guard.
He placed a binder on the table.
“Our records. Everything we can provide voluntarily. Your attorney can request anything else.”
“Are you still offering the loan?”
“Not under those terms.”
“Then what do you want from me?”
“Accurate information. And a conversation about whether this business can survive.”
I folded my arms.
“People say things about you.”
“They do.”
“Are they wrong?”
“Not all of them.”
Mara’s pen stopped.
Dominic continued.
“Which is why you should have independent counsel. And why you shouldn’t sign anything because you think I rescued you at dinner.”
“I don’t.”
“Good.”
Inside the binder were bank statements submitted by Dale.
Company expenses.
Management fees.
Vendor payments.
Most were familiar.
One wasn’t.
Harbor Lantern Consulting.
Thirty-two thousand dollars every month.
“What do they do?” I asked.
“Your father described them as logistics advisers.”
“We don’t have logistics advisers.”
“You’re certain?”
“I was the logistics adviser. I earned fifty-four thousand a year and bought my own printer toner.”
Mara marked the entry.
Dominic watched my face.
“Do you recognize the address?”
I read it.
Then read it again.
It was the office Rebecca used for Madison’s charitable foundation.
That didn’t prove anything.
I knew that.
But suddenly, several questions were standing in the same room.
The missing reserve.
The false signature.
My father’s desperate need for financing.
And a company charging more each month than I earned in half a year.
When the meeting ended, Dominic held the door.
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said.
“I know.”
This time, I almost believed it.
Outside, Ben called.
“Claire. Payroll didn’t clear.”
May you like
It was Friday.
Four hundred twelve people were waiting to get paid.
