Chapter 7 - THE BILLIONAIRE'S SIGNATURE
"You told me you didn't know anything about my mother's music."
Julian stared at the archive record.
Then he looked at me.
"I didn't recognize the titles."
"But you signed for them."
"Yes."
The room went silent.
Evelyn placed the checkout record between us.
I felt foolish.
I'd trusted Julian because he'd treated me kindly.
Because he'd defended me when three hundred guests laughed.
Because he'd listened when I spoke about my family.
Now his signature appeared on the very paperwork used to remove my mother's name.
"Tell me what happened," I said.
Julian rubbed his jaw.
"Six years ago, the foundation was preparing a new national music education program. I personally visited the archives with Victoria."
"Why?"
"She wanted me to see the compositions that would be used in our first curriculum."
"And you saw Mom's originals?"
"I remember signing for a portfolio of manuscripts. Victoria explained that they were being prepared for publication."
"Did you open the portfolio?"
He shook his head.
"No."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course you didn't."
He accepted that without argument.
"I was there to approve funding. I let Victoria handle the artistic material."
"And because she's wealthy and important, you assumed she was telling the truth."
Julian looked at me.
"Yes."
The honesty surprised me.
But it didn't make me feel better.
I pushed my chair back.
"My mother wrote those songs while she was sick. She spent years trying to keep our school alive."
"I understand."
"No, you don't."
My voice cracked.
"You approved a program that celebrated the woman who took her music. You stood in that ballroom while people applauded Victoria for work she'd never done."
Julian didn't defend himself.
I stood.
"I need some distance."
He nodded.
"You deserve that."
Evelyn followed me into the hallway.
"Carolina?"
I turned.
"Your mother wasn't the only person who complained."
"What do you mean?"
Evelyn adjusted the strap of her briefcase.
"When the authorship credits changed, I questioned the acquisitions department."
"What did they say?"
"That the rights had been transferred to an authorized family representative."
"My father?"
"Your name was on the transfer."
I shook my head.
"That's impossible."
"I know what you're saying now."
She hesitated.
"I should have investigated further then. Instead, I accepted their explanation."
"Why?"
"Because I was sixty-two, my husband had just retired after a stroke, and I was afraid of losing my job."
I looked at her.
For six years, I'd thought courage was something people either had or didn't.
Now I was beginning to understand how fear could make decent people choose silence.
"Did you keep anything?"
Evelyn nodded.
"I retained copies of the original inventory and the correspondence I submitted before leaving."
"Why?"
"Because the changes never felt right."
She took a small notebook from her purse.
"There's another detail."
On one page she'd written the title Sofia's Waltz.
Beside it was a date.
The date of my mother's original submission.
"Victoria instructed me to remove this from the pending review collection before the acquisition agreement was finalized."
My stomach tightened.
"Why would she do that?"
"She said the foundation needed a clean catalog for the upcoming launch."
"So the music was already being presented as hers."
"That's what I eventually concluded."
I returned to the conference room.
Julian was still sitting at the table.
He stood when I entered.
"I've asked for an independent examination of the archives and financial records," he said.
"Good."
"I'm also stepping back from reviewing the transactions I approved."
I studied him.
"Does that mean you're leaving?"
"No. It means I shouldn't be the person deciding whether my own conduct was acceptable."
That answer mattered.
Not enough to repair everything.
But enough for me to remain in the room.
Evelyn showed him her notebook.
Julian read it carefully.
Then he opened his laptop.
"There's a board meeting tomorrow morning. Victoria requested an emergency vote."
"What vote?"
"To transfer the foundation's educational music catalog to a new distribution partner."
I frowned.
"Can she do that while ownership is disputed?"
"Not properly. But the materials were prepared before we raised the dispute, and several trustees believe the transaction is routine."
"Then stop it."
"I'm trying."
He showed us the meeting agenda.
The catalog transfer was the first item.
If approved, the disputed compositions would be incorporated into thousands of additional teaching materials under Victoria's name.
And undoing those licenses could take years.
I looked at the schedule.
Nine o'clock tomorrow morning.
Julian closed the computer.
"I'll request postponement."
"What if the board refuses?"
"Then we'll present what we know."
I thought about my mother's handwriting.
Sofia's scholarship application.
My father's hidden blue receipt.
Then I said, "I want to be there."
Julian nodded.
"You should be."
But before we left, Evelyn noticed one final entry in the old archive inventory.
She turned the page toward me.
Beneath the checkout record was a handwritten notation.
Original author objection received. Forwarded to board chair for resolution.
The date was three weeks before my mother's death.
I stared at the words.
"Mom's complaint reached the foundation."
Evelyn nodded.
"And according to this record, Victoria personally received it."
Then Julian read the final line of the meeting agenda.
His expression hardened.
"Carolina, there's something else."
"What?"
"Victoria isn't just asking the board to approve the catalog transfer."
May you like
He turned the screen.
"She's asking them to remove me from oversight of the entire foundation."
