Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Nathan didn't answer immediately.
Olivia stood between him and Lily, watching their faces.
He crouched to her height.
“When did Victoria say that?”
Olivia frowned.
“Last month.”
“What exactly did she tell you?”
“She said Mommy trusted the wrong people.”
Nathan felt his stomach tighten.
“Did she mention Lily?”
Olivia nodded.
“She said Lily was only nice because she wanted our money.”
Lily went completely still.
Nathan looked toward her.
Her expression carried a familiar, terrible recognition.
She had heard versions of those words before.
Not necessarily through her damaged hearing.
Through the way wealthy people looked at her.
Through the pauses before they spoke.
Through the assumption that kindness from someone poor must conceal an agenda.
Nathan touched Olivia's shoulder.
“Sweetheart, you did the right thing telling me.”
Olivia looked at Lily.
“I didn't believe her.”
Lily knelt beside her.
She signed carefully.
THANK YOU.
Olivia signed back.
YOU'RE MY FRIEND.
Then she hugged Lily.
Nathan watched them.
For years, he had feared Olivia would grow up surrounded by people who wanted something from her.
He had forgotten that children often recognized sincerity more quickly than adults.
He sent Olivia back to bed with Mrs. Bennett, the housekeeper who had worked for the Blackwoods for more than twenty years.
Then he returned to the photograph.
Victoria.
Grace.
Eleanor.
All three standing together.
The image had been taken inside the Bellweather Community Center.
Victoria looked approximately twenty-five.
She wore a dark blue suit.
Grace was smiling.
Eleanor wasn't.
Her arms were crossed.
Her expression was guarded.
Nathan studied the photograph.
“What happened that day?” he murmured.
Lily stood beside him.
“I remember my mother coming home upset after a meeting.”
“What kind of meeting?”
“She said the foundation was changing.”
Nathan looked at her.
“How?”
“She said they cared more about expensive dinners than helping children.”
He almost smiled bitterly.
Grace had said something similar.
Several months before her death, she had argued with Edward over the foundation's growing administrative costs.
Nathan had been occupied with a territorial dispute involving his family's businesses.
He remembered promising to review the problem.
He never had.
Grace died unexpectedly from complications following a respiratory infection that winter.
Afterward, the foundation's daily operations had passed to Edward.
Nathan had been too devastated to question the arrangement.
Now that decision seemed unforgivably careless.
The next morning, Nathan canceled every meeting on his calendar.
He arranged an urgent appointment with an audiologist for Lily.
By noon, she had been fitted with a temporary hearing device while a permanent replacement was ordered.
When the specialist explained the damage, Nathan listened carefully.
The original device wasn't simply wet.
Its casing had cracked, and internal components had been damaged.
It would require major repairs, possibly replacement.
Lily looked embarrassed when the estimated cost appeared.
Nathan paid without asking her to justify a dollar.
More importantly, he asked the specialist what accommodations Lily might need while adjusting to the temporary device.
It was the first time an employer had asked that question in front of her.
Lily noticed.
She didn't thank him immediately.
Some things were too important to reduce to polite gratitude.
After the appointment, they drove to the old Bellweather Community Center.
The building stood on the edge of a quiet residential neighborhood.
Its brick walls were weathered.
The front garden had become overgrown.
Nathan had brought Thomas Reed, his longtime security chief, and a property representative who had arranged legitimate access to the closed building.
Thomas was a broad-shouldered man in his late forties.
He had worked for Nathan's father.
He also knew more about the Ashford family than Nathan realized.
As they approached the entrance, Thomas slowed.
“Mr. Blackwood, there's something you should know.”
Nathan turned.
“What?”
“This building was sold six months after Mrs. Blackwood passed away.”
“To whom?”
“An Ashford holding company.”
Nathan stared at him.
“Why wasn't I told?”
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
“You were grieving. Mr. Ashford handled the foundation.”
Nathan's expression hardened.
“That's becoming a familiar explanation.”
Inside, the building smelled of dust and old paint.
Sunlight entered through high windows.
Lily stopped near the entrance.
For a moment, she was thirteen again.
She could almost see her mother standing beside the reception desk, signing forms and smiling encouragement.
Nathan noticed.
“Are you all right?”
Lily nodded.
“My mother used to bring me here on Saturdays.”
She pointed toward a hallway.
“The hearing rooms were down there.”
They passed a faded mural of children holding hands beneath a rainbow.
Someone had painted blue flowers around the border.
Lily touched one.
“My mother helped make these.”
Nathan looked at the mural.
He wondered how many children had walked through those doors believing someone would help them.
And how many had been disappointed.
At the end of the hallway stood a locked storage room.
The property representative opened it.
Inside were old folding chairs, broken furniture, and several metal cabinets.
Most had been emptied.
But one blue cabinet remained against the far wall.
B-17.
Lily stopped breathing for a moment.
Nathan approached it.
The paint was scratched.
A small brass plate hung beneath the lock.
He handed Lily the silver key.
“This is yours.”
She looked at him.
Then she inserted it.
The key turned.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then the old lock clicked.
Lily slowly opened the door.
Inside were three cardboard archive boxes.
A handwritten inventory.
Several children's drawings.
And a blue ledger.
Nathan lifted the ledger.
Its pages contained names, treatment dates, and payments made through the foundation.
Lily searched for her own name.
She found it near the middle.
Lily Morgan — Hearing Equipment Grant: $18,400.
She stared at the number.
“I never received anything close to that.”
Nathan examined the next column.
The grant had supposedly funded several treatments and a high-end hearing device.
A signature appeared beside the final entry.
Eleanor Morgan.
Lily shook her head.
“That isn't my mother's signature.”
Nathan compared it with the writing on the photograph.
She was right.
The shapes were different.
Someone had signed Eleanor's name.
Thomas leaned over the ledger.
“Sir.”
Nathan looked up.
Thomas was staring at the payment authorization column.
“What is it?”
Thomas pointed.
“These aren't ordinary foundation transfers.”
“What are they?”
“Some went through accounts managed by Blackwood Holdings.”
Nathan felt the air leave his lungs.
His own company.
His own money.
And his own name was associated with payments that apparently never reached the children.
He turned another page.
Dozens of entries followed the same pattern.
Large grants.
Repeated authorizations.
Unusual transfers.
Then Lily found a folded letter inside the back cover.
It was addressed to Grace.
The envelope had never been sealed.
Nathan unfolded it.
The letter was dated nine days before Eleanor Morgan died.
Grace, I know you believe we can correct this quietly. But the records have been altered again. They are using your husband's companies without his knowledge. I no longer believe Edward is acting alone.
Nathan continued reading.
Victoria came to see me yesterday. She was frightened. She said her father had ordered her to sign something she knew was wrong.
Lily covered her mouth.
Nathan read the final paragraph.
If anything happens to these records, remember what I told you about the blue ledger. The payments tell only half the story. The other half is in the children's personal files.
Nathan lowered the letter.
Thomas was staring at the floor.
Nathan noticed.
“Thomas.”
The older man didn't respond.
“Look at me.”
Thomas raised his eyes.
“You knew about this building.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You knew about these records?”
Thomas hesitated.
“I knew Mrs. Blackwood was investigating the foundation.”
Nathan's voice hardened.
“And you never told me?”
“Your wife asked me not to.”
“Why?”
Thomas swallowed.
“Because she was afraid of what you might do if you discovered Edward had been stealing from your charities.”
Nathan stared at him.
Then Thomas reached into his jacket.
He removed a folded document.
“I've kept this for four years.”
Nathan took it.
It was a copy of a transfer order.
The document authorized the removal of several children's medical records from the Bellweather Center.
It carried Edward Ashford's signature.
And beneath it, a second signature.
Victoria Ashford.
Lily stepped closer.
Nathan looked at Thomas.
“Where are those records now?”
Thomas's face darkened.
“That's what Mrs. Blackwood was trying to find.”
Nathan turned the document over.
A handwritten delivery address appeared on the back.
He recognized it immediately.
The address belonged to a private storage facility owned by his family.
But that wasn't what made his blood run cold.
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The transfer date was four days after Grace's funeral.
And the person who had personally collected the records, according to the receipt, was Nathan Blackwood himself.
