Chapter 6 - THE PRICE OF A CROWN
“The Crown could lose what?” Prince Lucien demanded.
Vivienne flinched.
King Frederick remained silent.
That frightened me more than anything my sister had said.
I turned toward him.
“Your Majesty, is it true?”
The King walked to the gallery window.
Beyond the gardens, wedding guests were gathering beneath enormous white tents.
Champagne glasses glittered in the afternoon light.
A string quartet played somewhere below.
All that beauty.
All that wealth.
And eighteen million pounds had nearly been stolen from a charity that taught ordinary people how to restore broken things.
Finally, the King spoke.
“Not precisely.”
I waited.
“The buildings wouldn't become private property. But the Crown could lose its exclusive authority to manage them.”
“That sounds like a good thing,” I said.
Lucien looked offended.
“Charlotte, these properties have belonged to the monarchy for generations.”
“Then why did my mother need to protect them?”
The King turned.
“Because belonging to the monarchy and belonging to the people are not always the same thing.”
His words surprised everyone.
He approached the restored crimson gown.
“Twenty-nine years ago, your mother discovered that several historic properties had been purchased using charitable funds. The deeds had been transferred into Crown-linked holding companies.”
“And nobody noticed?”
“People noticed,” he said. “But the accounting was deliberately complicated.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
A dishonest transaction didn't always look dishonest.
Sometimes it was buried beneath so many perfectly legal transactions that nobody bothered to follow the trail.
“Mother followed it,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And what happened?”
“Margaret demanded the properties be returned to public stewardship.”
I stared.
“She was a seamstress.”
The King's expression softened.
“She was also the most stubborn woman I ever met.”
Queen Helena gave a faint smile.
“That part is certainly true.”
Frederick continued.
“The agreement established independent oversight through the Heritage Trust. Margaret insisted that no royal family member could redirect the reserve funds without the approval of the controlling trustee.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“So the forged authorization was designed to bypass my authority.”
“Precisely.”
Inspector Shaw opened a folder on her tablet.
“Mr. Ashcroft's redevelopment company intended to use the trust's reserves as collateral for a bridge loan. The loan was tied to the acquisition of three waterfront properties.”
I recognized the addresses immediately.
“They're protected restoration sites.”
“Yes.”
“They can't be sold.”
“Not without restructuring their legal ownership.”
I stared at her.
“And that's what the forged papers were meant to authorize.”
She nodded.
It was suddenly obvious.
The eighteen million pounds wasn't the final prize.
It was the key to unlocking properties worth many times that amount.
Prince Lucien looked sick.
“I approved a preliminary proposal for waterfront improvements,” he said.
“Did you read the financing documents?” I asked.
His silence answered me.
I turned toward Vivienne.
“And you?”
She looked down.
“Adrian said it would create jobs.”
“Jobs?”
“He said the project would restore the old district and bring tourists back.”
My anger faltered.
Vivienne had always wanted to be associated with something grand.
A royal wedding.
A beautiful renovation.
A project that would give her a public role.
Adrian had offered her exactly what she wanted.
Then he'd made her believe she could lose everything.
“What did he promise you?” I asked.
She wiped her eyes.
“A foundation. The Princess Vivienne Cultural Initiative.”
I looked at the King.
“Using Mother's trust money?”
Vivienne flinched.
“He said it would be separate.”
“Did you check?”
“No.”
“Did you ask me?”
She said nothing.
That hurt more than the forgery.
My sister hadn't simply been ashamed of my shop.
She'd been ashamed to need my expertise.
Inspector Shaw interrupted.
“We have another difficulty.”
She displayed the redevelopment agreement.
“The transfer hasn't completed. But a conditional charge has already been registered against the trust's reserve account.”
I frowned.
“That requires trustee authorization.”
“Yes.”
“Mine?”
“Apparently.”
I examined the electronic certificate.
The signature was false.
But the security token attached to it was genuine.
My stomach dropped.
“That's my trustee token.”
Inspector Shaw nodded.
“The authorization came from your registered device.”
I stared.
“Impossible.”
“Your laptop was used.”
I thought of Vivienne standing in my kitchen three days earlier.
Pointing at the laptop.
Telling me to stop contacting the palace.
She had been alone in the kitchen for nearly ten minutes while I fetched tea.
I turned toward her.
“Did you touch my computer?”
Her face drained.
“Charlotte—”
“Did you?”
She nodded.
“I opened it.”
Lucien stepped backward.
Vivienne began crying.
“Adrian said he only needed to confirm something.”
I felt the breath leave my body.
“You gave him access?”
“He told me the palace needed to verify your trustee identity. He said it was routine.”
“Vivienne, my computer contains protected financial records!”
“I didn't know!”
“You didn't ask!”
My voice echoed through the gallery.
She covered her face.
“I know.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Queen Helena approached me.
“Charlotte, anger is justified. But we still need to stop him.”
I looked at the tablet.
The charge had been entered into the registry.
Once the bank released the funds, reversing everything would take months.
Possibly years.
And the trust's programs could collapse long before that.
“Where is Adrian Ashcroft now?” I asked.
Inspector Shaw checked her notes.
“He attended the wedding ceremony. He was last seen near the reception pavilion.”
“Is he still inside the palace grounds?”
“We believe so.”
“Then find him.”
The inspector hesitated.
“Without grounds for an arrest, he may leave.”
I stared at the screen.
There was something else in the document.
A clause buried on page seventeen.
I enlarged it.
Then read it again.
And again.
My pulse quickened.
“Wait.”
Everyone turned.
“This isn't a normal collateral agreement.”
“What is it?” the King asked.
I pointed to the clause.
“The funds aren't being transferred directly to Riverside Holdings.”
“Then where?”
“To a temporary holding account controlled by an outside signatory.”
Inspector Shaw leaned closer.
I scrolled to the signature page.
The name appeared beneath a digital certificate.
CHARLOTTE HALE.
My entire body went cold.
“They've made me the receiving party.”
The inspector's face hardened.
“If the transaction completes, the money will appear to have been transferred into an account under your control.”
“And when it disappears,” I whispered, “I'll be blamed.”
Vivienne grabbed my arm.
“Charlotte, I swear I didn't know.”
I pulled away.
Then noticed something strange.
The beneficiary account wasn't associated with Ashcroft Private Bank.
It belonged to a small private institution in another jurisdiction.
Beside the account number was a reference.
M.H. LEGACY.
I stared at it.
Mother's initials.
Not Vivienne's.
Not mine.
The King's expression changed when he saw it.
“Frederick?” the Queen asked.
He said nothing.
I looked directly at him.
“What does M.H. Legacy mean?”
His face went gray.
“Charlotte,” he said slowly, “that was the name your mother gave the emergency account she established before her death.”
I could barely speak.
“Emergency account?”
He nodded.
“She placed something inside it that was never supposed to be touched.”
“What?”
The King looked toward Vivienne.
May you like
Then at me.
“Thirty million pounds.”
