“He found transfers that did not belong.”
Rowan stared.
Vivian opened the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of an old memorandum.
The paper had been copied so many times that the type was faint near the edges.
She pushed it across the desk.
At the bottom was a signature.
WALTER E. MERCER.
Rowan recognized it instantly.
Slight upward slope.
Tall M.
The R ending in a sharp tail.
He had seen that handwriting on birthday cards.
Notes inside lunch bags.
One letter after his father disappeared that Rowan had read until the folds tore.
His chest tightened.
“What is this?”
“A preliminary internal exception report.”
“Your father flagged unauthorized transfers from several restricted accounts.”
“How much?”
“At the time, he estimated twenty-six million.”
Rowan looked up.
Vivian’s expression was grim.
“We now believe it was the beginning of something much larger.”
There was another name below Walter’s signature.
GIDEON VALE.
Rowan read it.
“What does this prove?”
“Alone?”
“Very little.”
Vivian sat back.
“That was part of the problem.”
“Walter knew allegations against Gideon would be dismissed without records.”
“So he began documenting everything.”
“He told you?”
“Eventually.”
“Why you?”
Vivian looked toward the old photograph in the wallet.
“My father founded the company.”
Rowan glanced at the picture.
“The man beside you?”
“Arthur Ashford.”
“He trusted Walter.”
“More than he trusted most executives.”
“What happened?”
Vivian did not answer immediately.
“My father became ill.”
“Gideon moved quickly.”
“Walter realized that by the time anyone understood what was happening, the people controlling the information would already control the company.”
“So Walter collected evidence.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“He disappeared from Ashford Consolidated.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“That’s the part I know.”
“No.”
Vivian’s voice softened.
“You know the story they allowed your family to believe.”
Rowan looked away.
For years he had told himself his father had chosen pride over family.
That Walter had been too ashamed to return after destroying his career.
It was easier to despise someone than miss them.
“Why did my mother never tell me?”
“Walter asked her not to.”
“You knew my mother?”
“I met her once.”
Rowan looked sharply at Vivian.
“When?”
“After he left the company.”
“She never mentioned you.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“Everybody keeps saying protect.”
His voice rose for the first time.
“People love that word when they’ve already decided somebody else doesn’t deserve the truth.”
Vivian accepted the blow.
She did not argue.
Rowan pointed toward the wallet.
“Was this really lost?”
Vivian became very still.
He understood.
“You planted it.”
“Yes.”
The answer came softly.
Something hot moved through Rowan’s chest.
“You put thousands of dollars in a wallet and left it in a public plaza?”
“It was monitored.”
“Monitored.”
“A licensed security investigator watched the square.”
Rowan laughed bitterly.
“So someone watched me pick it up.”
“Yes.”