Chapter 10: Shadows of the Endowment
The morning sun finally pierced the heavy mist, casting long, sharp beams of golden light across the marble floor of the foyer where Claire’s white wooden coffin still rested beneath the crystal chandelier. Vance motioned for the officers to secure the perimeter while he remained inside with the three remaining members of the household. The tension in the air had shifted from grief and suspicion to a cold, calculated reality.
"If Pendelton was auditing the endowment, and Claire hired him," Ethan said slowly, processing the web of deceit, "then why was she killed the night before the final report was due?"
"Because Pendelton delivered the final dossier to Claire at eleven o'clock that night," Eleanor said, walking slowly toward her daughter’s coffin. She reached out with a gloved hand, gently touching the polished white wood. "The name on the transfer orders wasn't Julian. And it wasn't me."
Ethan’s heart skipped a beat as a cold realization began to form in the back of his mind—a memory of late-night conference calls from London, corporate signatures forged on international wire authorizations, and missing digital keys that only a handful of people in the executive suite possessed.
"Who, Eleanor?" Ethan demanded, stepping forward. "Who was stealing from the foundation?"
Before Eleanor could answer, the front doors burst open, and two state troopers rushed into the foyer, dragging a handcuffed figure between them. It was Arthur Pendelton, his hair disheveled, breathing heavily as if he had been running through the wet woods behind the estate.
Pendelton’s eyes scanned the room wildly before locking onto Ethan. There was no fear in his expression—only a desperate, venomous resignation.
"You’re too late, Vance," Pendelton spat out, his voice cracking slightly. "The digital transfer files were automatically uploaded to federal regulators at six o'clock this morning. If I go down for this, I’m not going alone."
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Vance stepped up to Pendelton, grabbing his arm firmly. "Who ordered you to alter the books, Pendelton?"
Pendelton didn't look at Eleanor, nor did he look at Julian. Instead, he stared directly at Ethan, a twisted smile forming on his lips. "Ask the grieving husband. Ask the man who spent the last three days in London supposedly closing mergers, while his private terminal was being used to drain four million dollars out of the charity's development fund."
