Chapter 9 - THE HOUSE WAS GONE
The deed had changed six months earlier.
I stared at the screen in Rebecca’s office.
The Hawthorne estate had been transferred.
Not sold.
Transferred.
To a private entity called Larkspur Heritage Trust.
I felt sick.
“I never signed this.”
Rebecca nodded.
“We know.”
“My signature is right there.”
“It’s forged.”
“Again.”
“Yes.”
“Who controls the trust?”
“We’re finding out.”
I already knew.
Margaret.
It had to be Margaret.
The estate was more than a house.
It was the center of her identity.
Her parties.
Her status.
Her power.
Daniel had always claimed we were protecting it from creditors.
Apparently they had been protecting it from me.
Marcus called.
“We found something similar in company property records.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
“Two warehouses were transferred to holding companies.”
“When?”
“Over the last eighteen months.”
I closed my eyes.
“How much value?”
“About six million.”
Rebecca swore.
Marcus continued.
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“One of those companies is registered to Richard.”
Of course.
Daniel hadn’t just been stealing.
The entire family had been feeding from my company.
I drove to headquarters.
For the first time in years, I walked through the front doors without Daniel beside me.
Employees looked nervous.
Some looked relieved.
Marcus met me upstairs.
“There’s more.”
I almost laughed.
“That sentence should be our new company slogan.”
He didn’t smile.
He brought me into the finance room.
Three analysts had spent the night tracing transactions.
One projected a network onto the wall.
Briar Holdings.
HWT Management.
Larkspur Heritage Trust.
Three vendors.
Two property companies.
All connected through family members.
My company had paid millions over three years for fake consulting, fake maintenance, fake property agreements.
I stared at the map.
“They built a pipeline.”
Marcus nodded.
“To drain us.”
“No.”
I looked closer.
“To build something.”
Rebecca joined us.
“What?”
I pointed at the transfers.
“Look.”
Money went out from my company.
Then into Hawthorne-controlled entities.
Then into one central account.
“What is that?”
Marcus zoomed in.
“Bellweather Capital.”
“Who owns it?”
He hesitated.
“Officially?”
“Yes.”
“Margaret Hawthorne.”
My blood went cold.
“How much is there?”
“Current balance we can verify?”
“Yes.”
“About $11.4 million.”
Nobody spoke.
Then I asked the obvious question.
“Why?”
Rebecca answered.
“They were preparing for something.”
We found out that night.
A draft acquisition agreement.
Daniel planned to launch a new company.
He was going to leave mine.
Take key employees.
Take proprietary software.
Take clients.
And use money stolen from me to finance the entire thing.
The plan had a name.
Project Phoenix.
I laughed when I saw it.
Daniel always loved dramatic names.
Then I opened the final page.
Proposed launch date:
September 1.
Less than three weeks away.
And underneath it, a handwritten note.
Once Claire signs final transfer, she becomes irrelevant.
I stared at the words.
Then Marcus said quietly, “Claire.”
I looked at him.
“The final transfer.”
“What about it?”
“It’s scheduled for Monday.”
“How much?”
May you like
He swallowed.
“Twenty-two million dollars.”
