Chapter 6 - The Ledger Claire Remembered
Claire did not lose the baby.
Those six words became the only reason I could breathe for the next several hours.
The pain had been caused by dehydration, exhaustion, and severe physical stress. Dr. Chen’s hospital colleagues stabilized her, kept her overnight, and warned her that her body needed rest, nutrition, and consistent medical care.
I stood outside her room listening to doctors explain things I should have made sure she never had to face alone.
When the hallway finally became quiet, I called every restaurant manager I had and canceled my schedule for the week.
Then I called Gabriel.
“I want an independent forensic team.”
He sounded exhausted.
“For the foundation?”
“For everything.”
“Roman—”
“Every restaurant. Every holding company. Every trust. Every transfer Dominic ever touched.”
“That could take months.”
“Start tonight.”
“All right.”
“And nobody connected to my mother oversees it.”
“Understood.”
I looked through the glass at Claire sleeping.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“I want Claire’s settlement restored immediately.”
“I can have funds transferred tomorrow.”
“No.”
I paused.
“Put them in an independent escrow account under her attorney’s control. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to buy access to her.”
Gabriel was quiet.
“That’s probably wise.”
Probably.
I had not been wise in a very long time.
Claire woke shortly after sunrise.
Her first question was about the baby.
Her second was whether I had eaten.
That nearly destroyed me.
“You’re in a hospital because you were starving and you’re asking whether I had breakfast?”
She looked embarrassed.
“It was automatic.”
“I ate.”
I hadn’t.
She knew.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“I learned from experience.”
Her expression changed.
The joke died between us.
I pulled the chair closer.
“Claire, I need to tell you something.”
She stared at me.
“I restored the settlement.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I don’t want your money.”
“It was always yours.”
“I survived without it.”
“You should never have had to.”
“I said I don’t want—”
“I’m not giving it to you.”
She frowned.
“I’m returning stolen property.”
That silenced her.
“It’s being placed under your attorney’s control. I cannot touch it. My mother cannot touch it. Nobody in my organization can touch it.”
Claire looked toward the window.
After a moment, she said, “Thank you.”
It was formal.
That hurt.
It was also more than I deserved.
A detective arrived shortly afterward.
Callahan had spent the night tracing Dominic’s movements.
His phone had gone dark near Lake Geneva.
The property connected to my mother’s foundation was empty.
Inside, police found burned documents, an abandoned laptop, and evidence Dominic had been there recently.
No Dominic.
No explanation.
But Claire reacted when Callahan mentioned the burned documents.
“The ledger.”
Callahan looked at her.
“What ledger?”
Claire sat straighter.
“The foundation expense ledger.”
“We have accounting records.”
“No.”
Claire shook her head.
“There was a physical book.”
I remembered it vaguely.
An old-fashioned leather ledger my father insisted the foundation keep for ceremonial recordkeeping.
Claire continued.
“Elena in accounting told me Dominic hated it because entries had to be signed by two people.”
Callahan leaned forward.
“What was in it?”
“Every major foundation transfer above fifty thousand dollars.”
My pulse changed.
“Including the shell companies?”
“I think so.”
“Where is it?”
Claire hesitated.
“It was in the foundation office when I first noticed the payments.”
“And after?”
“I took pictures.”
Callahan’s eyes sharpened.
“Where are they?”
“My phone.”
“Your current phone?”
Claire shook her head.
“My old one.”
I stared at her.
“The one you lost?”
“I didn’t lose it.”
“What?”
“I told Dominic it had been stolen.”
Despite everything, a spark of the woman I married appeared in her expression.
“I didn’t trust him.”
Callahan almost smiled.
“Good instinct.”
“Where is the phone?” I asked.
Claire looked at me.
“At my old apartment building.”
I frowned.
“You were evicted.”
“Yes.”
“Then how—”
“The super’s wife, Maya, helped me.”
Claire explained.
When her bank account was frozen and the stolen settlement remained hidden, she fell behind on rent.
Her landlord eventually forced her out.
Maya Patel, the building superintendent’s wife, let Claire store one small box in their basement cage.
Inside were photographs, tax records, the old phone, and copies of documents related to the foundation.
My ex-wife had been carrying evidence against the people around me while sleeping on a stranger’s couch.
The shame was unbearable.
Callahan arranged officers to retrieve it.
Claire insisted on going.
“No.”
She looked at me.
I corrected myself.
“The doctors said you need rest.”
“The evidence belongs to me.”
“Then Callahan can bring it here.”
Claire looked at the detective.
Callahan nodded.
“I can.”
Claire relaxed slightly.
Three hours later, Callahan called.
Not from the apartment.
From outside it.
“The storage cage is empty.”
Claire’s face drained.
“That’s impossible.”
“Maya said a man came yesterday claiming you had sent him.”
“What man?”
“She didn’t get his name.”
“What did he look like?”
Callahan paused.
“Tall. Mid-forties. Dark hair. Expensive coat.”
That described half the men Dominic hired.
“Did she give him the box?”
“Yes.”
Claire cursed softly.
I had almost never heard her swear during our marriage.
Today, it felt appropriate.
Callahan continued.
“Maya says he showed her a text message from your number.”
Claire grabbed her phone.
“I never sent anything.”
“We know.”
“Where is Maya?”
Another pause.
“She isn’t answering now.”
My skin went cold.
“What do you mean?”
“Her husband says she left twenty minutes ago to meet us.”
“But you’re already there.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at me.
Her fear returned.
Someone had lured Maya away.
Because she had seen the man who took Claire’s evidence.
I immediately called Marco.
He answered from the Gold Coast house.
“Boss.”
“Find Maya Patel.”
“I’m on it.”
“Coordinate with Callahan. Nothing outside the law.”
Marco paused.
Old Roman would never have added that sentence.
“Understood.”
Claire heard it.
She looked at me differently for half a second.
Not forgiveness.
Maybe recognition.
Callahan began organizing a search.
At noon, Marco found something else.
A traffic camera showed Maya’s car entering a parking structure downtown.
The same camera captured another vehicle behind her.
A black sedan registered to Northline Consulting.
Dominic’s shell company.
Police converged on the structure.
The car was there.
Empty.
Maya’s purse sat on the passenger seat.
Her phone was on the ground.
No blood.
No sign of struggle.
But inside her phone was one unsent voice message.
Callahan played it for us.
Maya sounded terrified.
“Claire, if you get this, the man who took your box said Roman sent him, but I recognized him. He came to the building before. Months ago. He used to wait across the street when you lived here.”
Claire covered her mouth.
Maya’s voice continued.
“He has a scar near his left ear.”
Marco, listening on speaker, went silent.
I knew that silence.
“You recognize him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Marco exhaled.
“Eddie Voss.”
The name struck me.
One of Dominic’s former security contractors.
One of the men who appeared in the photographs supposedly proving Claire was being followed by enemies.
The threat had never been outside my organization.
It had always been inside it.
Then Claire’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Callahan motioned for everyone to stay quiet.
Claire answered on speaker.
“Hello?”
A man breathed on the other end.
Then he said, “You should have stayed gone.”
Claire went rigid.
I leaned toward the phone.
“Dominic.”
A soft laugh.
“Hello, Roman.”
My hand closed into a fist.
“Where is Maya?”
“Alive.”
“If you touch her—”
“You still think threats solve everything.”
His voice sounded almost amused.
Maybe because he knew exactly which version of me he was trying to provoke.
I forced myself to stay calm.
“What do you want?”
“The same thing I wanted six months ago.”
“What?”
“For Claire Bennett to stop digging.”
Claire leaned toward the phone.
“No.”
Dominic laughed again.
Then he said something that made her face change.
“You still haven’t remembered where you hid the original ledger, have you?”
Claire froze.
“What are you talking about?”
“You photographed it, Claire.”
His voice became softer.
“But you also took it.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Claire suddenly grabbed the side of the hospital bed.
Her eyes widened.
I knew that look.
Memory.
“Claire?”
She looked at me.
“The night I came to your house…”
“What?”
“I didn’t come empty-handed.”
Her face went white.
“I brought the ledger with me.”
May you like
Dominic stopped laughing.
And Claire whispered, “I know where it is.”
