Chapter 8 - THE MISSING MILLIONSBrooke wanted to meet at a diner in the Strip District.
Not during business hours.
Not anywhere near Vale Precision.
She chose a small place on a side street and asked me to come alone.
I refused.
Instead, Nia arranged to meet with her at Nia's office, where Brooke could speak to an attorney about her own exposure and decide what she was willing to disclose.
Brooke initially resisted.
Then she sent one final message.
Fine. But I need to know somebody will actually listen.
When she arrived, I barely recognized her.
At work, Brooke always wore perfectly styled hair, expensive perfume, and polished shoes.
She used to laugh at Vanessa's jokes before anyone else.
Now her hair was pulled into a careless knot, and dark circles shadowed her eyes.
She sat across from us without removing her coat.
“I don't have much time,” she said.
Nia spoke calmly.
“Before you give us anything, you should understand that I represent Ella and Thomas, not you. If you believe you may have legal exposure, you should consult your own attorney.”
Brooke gave a nervous laugh.
“Legal exposure?”
She looked at me.
“That's a polite way of saying I might go to prison.”
Nobody answered.
Brooke stared at her hands.
“I didn't know what they were doing at first.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Vanessa and Malcolm.”
She pulled a folded sheet of paper from her purse.
Nia asked her to explain its origin before anyone touched it.
Brooke said it was a list of transaction reference numbers she had written down from reports she was authorized to review.
“After Vanessa became finance manager, she reorganized the payment accounts,” Brooke explained. “She said it was part of a cost-control program.”
“What accounts?” Nia asked.
“Some of them were old shareholder distribution accounts.”
My pulse quickened.
“Dad's?”
Brooke nodded.
“There was one listed as Reed Legacy Holdings.”
“I've never heard of it.”
“Neither had I, until I was asked to reconcile the balances.”
She described a series of transactions spanning almost ten years.
Dividend allocations.
Investment returns.
Internal loans.
Management fees.
The amounts varied.
Some were only a few thousand dollars.
Others exceeded half a million.
According to Brooke, they were tied to money that should have been held for Dad or properly accounted for in the company's shareholder records.
Instead, funds were transferred through entities controlled by Malcolm Pierce.
“Why?” I asked.
Brooke looked miserable.
“Because Malcolm used them as collateral for private investments.”
Nia leaned forward.
“Do you have documents supporting that?”
“I know where the records are. And I can identify the files.”
“Have you altered any of them?”
Brooke hesitated.
My chest tightened.
“Brooke.”
She began crying.
“I changed the descriptions on some ledger entries.”
The room went still.
“Who told you to?” Nia asked.
“Vanessa.”
“Did you know the entries were false?”
Brooke wiped her face.
“Not at first.”
“And later?”
She nodded.
“I knew they didn't match the underlying transfers.”
I sat back.
I remembered every time Brooke had mocked my clothes.
Every time she had called me poor.
Every time she had smiled while Vanessa humiliated me in front of the department.
And now she was sitting across from me crying because the people she admired had placed her in danger.
Part of me wanted to tell her she deserved it.
But I thought about Dad.
About the way he had helped Mateo even after the company turned against him.
“Why are you telling us?” I asked.
Brooke looked at me.
“Because Vanessa told me to delete the old account records yesterday.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she also told me to prepare another report blaming you.”
I felt my stomach turn.
“What report?”
“She wanted an audit trail showing you accessed financial data before you were hired.”
I stared.
“That's impossible.”
“I know.”
“Then why would she ask you to do it?”
Brooke shook her head.
“Because she's running out of ways to discredit you.”
Nia made careful notes.
Then she asked a question that changed the direction of the conversation.
“Did you participate in creating the security image of Ella entering the restricted records room?”
Brooke closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I felt as though someone had struck me.
“You did that?”
“I helped prepare the employee photograph. Vanessa had someone else combine it with the security footage.”
“You knew I was at the hospital with my father.”
“I found out later.”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped across the floor.
“Later?”
“Ella, please—”
“You watched her humiliate me for eighteen months.”
Brooke began crying harder.
“I know.”
“You laughed when she called me a charity hire.”
“I know.”
“You made jokes about my father being disabled.”
Her face crumpled.
“I know.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I walked to the window.
Outside, people hurried along the sidewalk carrying groceries, briefcases, and coffee.
Ordinary people living ordinary lives.
For a moment, I envied them.
Nia gave me time.
When I finally turned around, Brooke was still sitting with her head lowered.
“Why did you do it?” I asked.
She looked up.
“Because Vanessa promised me a promotion.”
I stared at her.
“That was worth destroying my reputation?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“It wasn't.”
Silence settled over the room.
Then Brooke whispered something I would remember for years.
“I kept telling myself I wasn't the one making the decisions.”
She looked directly at me.
“But I was still doing what they asked.”
I sat down again.
It was the first honest thing I had ever heard her say.
Nia explained that Brooke should retain independent counsel and preserve everything she knew about the records.
She also asked whether Brooke had evidence relating to the 2016 redemption agreement.
Brooke hesitated.
Then nodded.
“There's a document imaging log.”
“What does it show?”
“The original shareholder redemption papers were scanned into the corporate archive in September 2016.”
“That seems normal,” Nia said.
“It would be.”
Brooke looked at me.
“Except the final signed agreement wasn't created until three days after the scan.”
I stared at her.
“How is that possible?”
“Somebody attached a signature image to a new document.”
Nia's expression sharpened.
“Do you know whose workstation was used?”
Brooke nodded.
“Malcolm's executive assistant.”
She reached into her purse again.
“I also wrote down the location of the original source file.”
Nia looked at the paper.
Then her face changed.
“Brooke, this isn't a file path.”
Brooke nodded.
“No.”
“What is it?” I asked.
She looked at me with frightened eyes.
“It's the account where Malcolm kept the money.”
Nia read the information aloud.
Then she stopped.
I recognized the account holder's name immediately.
It wasn't Malcolm Pierce.
It wasn't Vanessa Holt.
The account was held by a charitable foundation.
A foundation named after my late mother.
THE ELEANOR REED FAMILY FOUNDATION.
May you like
My mother had been dead for eighteen years.
And I had never heard of the foundation.
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