Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO CALLED HIMSELF FAMILY
“Peter wants to remove me from my own wife's foundation?”
Vincent stood behind his desk, staring at Daniel.
“He filed the motion twenty minutes ago,” Daniel replied.
“On what grounds?”
“Misuse of charitable funds. Unauthorized filming involving a minor. Potential reputational damage.”
Vincent gave a bitter laugh.
“Every accusation describes what Peter himself has done.”
“That's what we need to establish.”
I watched Vincent approach the photograph hanging beside his desk.
It showed a younger Vincent standing beside a smiling brunette holding a baby wrapped in a blue blanket.
Anna Donovan.
Grace's mother.
“I promised Anna that her foundation would always protect children,” he said quietly.
Then he turned around.
“Now her own brother is using our daughter to destroy it.”
Daniel's radio interrupted.
“Mr. Bell is requesting a private conversation before tomorrow's meeting.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Tell him I'll see him there.”
I finally left the hotel with security accompanying me.
Mrs. Alvarez was waiting when I reached my apartment.
Eli ran straight into my arms.
“Mom! You missed the funny part of the movie!”
I hugged him longer than usual.
“Tell me everything.”
He began describing a cartoon character who accidentally painted himself purple.
I listened carefully.
After the evening I'd experienced, his ordinary excitement felt like the most precious thing in the world.
When Mrs. Alvarez left, I made him a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Are we still going to my school concert?”
“Of course.”
“Even if you're working?”
I looked at him.
My calendar was filled with crossed-out appointments.
Bills waited on the refrigerator.
But I knew exactly what mattered.
“Even if I'm working.”
He smiled.
Then he reached into his backpack.
“I made you something.”
It was a paper bracelet decorated with blue stars.
I slipped it around my wrist.
“It's beautiful.”
“It's for when you have a hard day.”
I kissed his forehead.
Later, after Eli fell asleep, I examined the photographs I'd taken during Grace's first fitting.
Something bothered me.
The original gown had arrived in a plain white garment bag.
Not the expensive packaging Warren House Atelier normally used.
Inside the bag, I'd noticed a label printed with a silver crescent.
I'd assumed it was an inventory tag.
Now I enlarged the photograph.
A number appeared beneath the emblem.
AD-417.
I wrote it down.
Then I opened the original job confirmation from Meridian Events.
Beside my name was another number.
AD-417.
I stared at the screen.
It wasn't a coincidence.
Someone had connected my assignment to a charity inventory number before I ever met Grace.
The following morning, I returned to the Donovan estate.
I hadn't been summoned.
I'd agreed to finish Grace's dress, and I intended to keep my promise.
Vincent met me in the entrance hall.
He looked as though he hadn't slept.
“Lauren, Peter has accused you of serious misconduct.”
“I know.”
“You don't have to come back.”
“I haven't finished the dress.”
He studied me.
Then stepped aside.
“Grace is upstairs.”
As I walked toward the staircase, I noticed several large boxes beside the elevator.
They were covered in dust.
Vincent followed my gaze.
“Anna's belongings. I had them brought out of storage.”
Atop one box sat a small wooden sewing case.
Grace appeared on the landing.
“Daddy! You found it!”
She hurried downstairs, moving carefully with her brace.
Vincent opened the case.
Inside were colorful threads, old buttons, a silver thimble, and a folded piece of pale-blue fabric.
Grace picked up the thimble.
“Mom used to let me wear this on my thumb.”
Vincent smiled.
“She said every designer needed a proper thimble.”
I examined the fabric.
It was a sample for a child's jacket, with a flexible panel sewn into the back.
Anna had made room for a medical support garment.
Long before Grace needed one herself.
Grace looked at me.
“Could we use something like this?”
“Absolutely.”
As I lifted the sample, a tiny silver crescent caught my eye.
Beneath it was a handwritten inventory number.
AD-417.
My fingers went cold.
“Mr. Donovan?”
Vincent turned.
“Where did Anna get this fabric?”
He examined the sample.
“From the foundation's first clothing project. She wanted children with medical equipment to have comfortable, attractive clothes.”
“What happened to the project?”
Vincent frowned.
“Peter told me it had been discontinued.”
“When?”
“About two years ago.”
I showed him the number on my phone.
“Then why is the same inventory code attached to Grace's new dress?”
Vincent went completely still.
Daniel entered carrying the foundation's preliminary account records.
“We've discovered something.”
He spread several printed inventory reports across the table.
Over the last eighteen months, the foundation had paid more than three million dollars for adaptive clothing intended for children's hospitals.
Vincent looked up.
“I thought those orders had been delivered.”
Daniel shook his head.
“We've contacted the hospitals listed in the records.”
“And?”
“None of them received the shipments.”
Vincent stared at the empty delivery columns.
Then Daniel placed one final invoice beside Anna's fabric sample.
The supplier was Warren House Atelier.
Celeste's company.
The amount was $3.2 million.
And the person who approved the payments was Peter Bell.
But the final line revealed something worse.
PROJECT BENEFICIARY: GRACE DONOVAN.
Grace looked up from her mother's sewing case.
“Daddy?”
May you like
Vincent turned toward her.
“Why does it say they bought three million dollars of clothes for me?”
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