Chapter 6 - THE SECRET BEHIND THE FAMILY PORTRAIT
“Henry knew what?”
Callum looked from his mother to Edmund Price.
Neither answered.
His jaw tightened.
“I asked a question.”
Clara's composure finally cracked.
“Your grandfather knew your father was in trouble.”
Callum frowned.
“My father died when I was twelve.”
“I know.”
“Then what does he have to do with money stolen ten years later?”
Rowena sat very still.
Edmund looked down at Henry's letter.
“The missing transfers happened later,” he said. “But the arrangement behind them began while your father was alive.”
Thea felt Marian's hand close around hers.
Callum stared at Edmund.
“What arrangement?”
Edmund hesitated.
“Your father, Robert, invested in Westbridge before his death. He borrowed against several family holdings without Henry's approval.”
Callum shook his head.
“Dad wouldn't do that.”
Clara's eyes filled.
“He was trying to build something of his own.”
“He worked for Grandpa.”
“And he hated being treated like a child.”
Rowena looked toward her husband's portrait.
“Robert was brilliant at charming people,” she said softly. “Not always brilliant at keeping promises.”
Callum turned toward her.
“You knew?”
“I knew there had been debts.”
“Did you know about Westbridge?”
“No.”
Edmund carefully placed the letter on the desk.
“After Robert died, the investment collapsed. Several private lenders demanded repayment.”
Callum's face tightened.
“How much?”
“Approximately two million dollars initially. Interest and penalties made it considerably worse.”
“And my mother paid them?”
Clara nodded.
“I didn't want you growing up believing your father had failed.”
Callum looked at her for a long moment.
“You let me grow up believing he was perfect.”
“He loved you.”
“That's not what I asked.”
Clara looked away.
Thea recognized the pain on his face.
It was the same confusion she had felt when she learned Marian had hidden twenty-two years of her life.
A child could understand why a parent wanted to protect them.
That didn't make the lost truth hurt less.
Rowena pointed toward the letter.
“Robert's debts explain the beginning. They don't explain the stolen money.”
Edmund said nothing.
“Edmund,” Rowena repeated, “what happened to the other two million?”
His face flushed.
“Westbridge had additional obligations.”
“Whose obligations?”
Edmund glanced at Clara.
She shook her head.
“Don't put this on me.”
“I haven't,” he said.
“Not yet.”
Callum held up both hands.
“Enough. We need the records.”
Thea remembered the message from suite 614.
“Henry's portrait.”
Everyone turned toward the fireplace.
The portrait hung above an antique mantel.
A brass plaque beneath it read:
HENRY JAMES LARKMORE\
1938–2007\
FOUNDER, CHAIRMAN, FRIEND
Callum pulled a chair beneath the painting.
Thea steadied it while he lifted the frame.
Behind it was an old recessed wall safe.
Rowena looked genuinely surprised.
“Henry never mentioned that.”
Edmund went pale.
Callum examined the small dial.
“Does anyone know the combination?”
Marian held up the silver watch.
“Maybe Henry gave me this for a reason.”
She turned it over.
Thea noticed tiny numbers engraved along the inner edge of the case.
11\.
17\.
06\.
Callum entered them.
The lock clicked.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Inside lay a narrow brown ledger, a sealed envelope, and a man's gold pocket watch.
Rowena gasped softly.
“Henry's watch.”
She took it with trembling fingers.
The chain was tarnished.
The case bore a small dent near the hinge.
“He carried this every day.”
Thea gently lifted the ledger.
Its pages were filled with handwritten entries.
Dates.
Transfer numbers.
Accounts.
Names.
And several columns marked WESTBRIDGE.
Callum opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Rowena, if this reaches you, I failed to correct an injustice while I still had the strength. Marian deserves the truth. So does our grandson. Follow the money, not the stories people tell about it.
Rowena pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Henry.”
Her voice broke.
Edmund stepped forward.
“That ledger isn't what you think.”
Callum turned.
“Then explain it.”
Edmund pointed toward the last pages.
“Those figures show every transfer Henry approved.”
Rowena frowned.
“Henry approved the payments?”
“Some of them.”
Marian shook her head.
“No. He was already ill when those entries were made.”
Edmund's tone sharpened.
“He was still chairman.”
“He could barely hold a pen.”
Callum looked at the signatures.
Some were shaky.
Others strangely neat.
Thea noticed something.
“Why do the handwriting styles change?”
Edmund stopped.
“What?”
“These signatures.”
She pointed to two entries dated only three days apart.
“One looks like a man who was struggling to write. The other looks perfectly normal.”
Callum studied them.
Then lifted his gaze.
“Somebody forged his signature.”
Clara turned away.
Edmund spoke quickly.
“That's speculation.”
“Then let an independent examiner decide,” Callum replied.
Rowena closed the pocket watch.
“Agreed.”
Callum removed his phone.
“I'm calling an outside forensic accountant.”
Edmund moved toward him.
“Do you understand what that could do to the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“You could jeopardize hundreds of jobs.”
“Those jobs are already being jeopardized if someone is stealing.”
Clara looked desperate.
“Callum, please think about our family.”
He faced her.
“I am.”
For the first time, his voice rose.
“I'm thinking about Grandma sitting beside a staircase in an unsafe wheelchair. I'm thinking about a woman falsely accused of stealing millions. And I'm thinking about why nobody told me my father had debts.”
Silence.
Then Rowena turned to Thea.
“Dear, would you bring me a glass of water?”
Thea nodded.
As she crossed toward the side table, she noticed something under the ledger's final page.
A smaller envelope.
It had been tucked into the binding.
She removed it carefully.
On the front, Henry had written:
FOR THE PERSON WHO FINALLY ASKS ABOUT THE SERVICE CHARGES.
Thea froze.
Service charges.
The missing tip pool.
She looked at Marian.
“Mom.”
Marian turned.
“Thea?”
Thea opened the envelope.
Inside was a memorandum dated nineteen years earlier.
Henry had established a special employee gratuity trust.
A portion of major-event service fees was supposed to be distributed directly to workers.
The fund had been designed to protect staff from management withholding tips.
Rowena stared at the document.
“I remember discussing this with Henry. He said it would become part of the hotel's permanent compensation policy.”
Callum looked at the account number.
“Then why has nobody heard of it?”
Thea thought of Hazel.
Three weeks waiting for her tips.
Merrick's constant excuses.
Thea's nursing-school deposit.
Then she saw the signature authorizing the trust's administrative transfer seven years earlier.
EDMUND PRICE.
Callum looked toward the accountant.
“Where is this money?”
Edmund's face became rigid.
“The trust was restructured.”
“Into what?”
“A general operating reserve.”
Rowena's expression hardened.
“That was never its purpose.”
Clara began shaking her head.
“Edmund, tell them.”
Thea looked at her.
“Tell us what?”
Clara whispered, “I told you that money belonged to the staff.”
Callum turned sharply.
“You knew?”
Clara looked devastated.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you stop him?”
She swallowed.
“Because he threatened to release your father's debts.”
Edmund snapped, “That's not what happened.”
But Callum had already opened the ledger to its newest entries.
His eyes moved across the final page.
Then stopped.
“The employee trust isn't empty,” he said.
Everyone turned.
Callum looked up slowly.
“According to this, twelve million dollars was transferred out of it last month.”
Thea felt her heart hammer.
“Twelve million?”
Callum nodded.
“And the receiving account is registered to a company called Varden Event Holdings.”
May you like
Avalene's company.
The company that had organized their wedding.
