Chapter 7
Dad ended the call and sat in silence.
I didn’t know whether to comfort him or shake him.
Finally I asked, “How did Maya’s father die?”
“Car accident.”
“That sounds convenient.”
Dad’s eyes snapped toward me.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Turn every tragedy into a conspiracy before we have evidence.”
I stood.
“You trusted Richard before.”
The moment I said it, I regretted it.
Dad looked like I had struck him.
“I know.”
His voice was quiet.
That was worse.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
He stared at the internal complaint.
“You’re right.”
I sat again.
He leaned back.
“David Bennett was an accounting manager at Harrison Outreach.”
“Maya’s dad?”
“Yes.”
“He reported irregular vendor payments.”
“To Richard?”
“About Richard.”
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“Claire supported his complaint. Internal audit reviewed it.”
“And found nothing?”
“They found documentation supporting the payments.”
“Fake documentation?”
“Apparently.”
I thought of Maya.
“Then David died.”
“Three weeks later.”
“And Claire blamed Richard.”
“She wanted an outside forensic audit.”
“But you said no.”
Dad’s eyes closed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Richard had been my friend for fifteen years.”
The word friend surprised me.
“Friend?”
“We started working together before Harrison Group became what it is now.”
Dad looked toward the dark window.
“He stood beside me when your mother died.”
I went still.
Mom had died when I was nine.
Cancer.
Dad rarely spoke about those final months.
“Richard helped run the company while I stayed at the hospital.”
My anger became complicated.
“He made himself necessary.”
Dad looked at me.
“Maybe.”
“No. Definitely.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Neither did you.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
The security phone rang.
Daniel answered from the doorway.
Then looked at Dad.
“Police located Noah Park.”
I stood.
“He’s okay?”
“He’s alive.”
Relief hit me.
“Where?”
“San Diego.”
Dad frowned.
“Why couldn’t Elena reach him?”
“He changed numbers and left social media.”
“Can we talk to him?”
Daniel hesitated.
“He doesn’t want to.”
I understood.
“Because he’s scared.”
“Likely.”
Dad said, “Don’t pressure him.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“He’s a victim, Avery. Not evidence we’re entitled to.”
I sat down slowly.
He was right.
Again.
That became our pattern over the next twelve hours.
I wanted action.
Dad wanted proof.
At seven in the morning, Aunt Claire arrived.
I hadn’t seen her in person since Christmas two years earlier.
She hugged me so tightly my neck hurt.
I didn’t complain.
“You grew.”
“You say that every time.”
“Because you keep doing it.”
Dad stood a few feet away.
Their eyes met.
Claire released me.
“Ethan.”
“Claire.”
I looked between them.
“This is painful.”
Neither smiled.
Claire placed a file on the table.
“I brought David Bennett’s original complaint.”
Dad frowned.
“You kept it?”
“I keep everything when my brother tells me I’m paranoid.”
He accepted the insult.
Claire opened the folder.
“David noticed scholarship reimbursement funds passing through Harrison Outreach.”
I leaned closer.
“Why would school scholarship money go through Dad’s company?”
“It shouldn’t,” Claire said.
Dad’s face darkened.
“Harrison Outreach administers some charitable programs, but Westbridge payments should go directly through the foundation.”
Claire nodded.
“Exactly.”
She pointed at numbers.
“Richard created a services arrangement. Westbridge billed the foundation. Harrison Outreach processed certain reimbursement supplements. Pacific Academic Solutions received consulting fees.”
I frowned.
“So they moved money around until nobody noticed?”
“Essentially.”
“How much?”
Claire looked at Dad.
“At least eleven million dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Eleven million?”
“That’s what we can document quickly.”
Dad’s face turned hard.
“How much of it is Harrison money?”
“Most.”
“And the rest?”
“Tuition payments, donor funds, possibly public grant money.”
I felt sick.
“They stole from scholarships.”
“Yes.”
“And pushed students out so they could keep billing.”
“We don’t know the exact mechanism yet.”
I thought of Elena.
“They billed for students who weren’t there.”
Claire nodded.
“That appears likely.”
Dad stood.
“I’m going to Westbridge.”
“So am I,” Claire said.
I stood too.
“No.”
Both of them spoke together.
I stared.
“You two finally agree on something.”
Claire almost smiled.
Dad didn’t.
“Avery, absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because someone sent you a threat.”
“And they know where we live.”
Dad stopped.
I continued.
“I’m safer with security at Westbridge than sitting here pretending I’m not involved.”
Claire looked at Dad.
“She has a point.”
He glared at her.
“Do not encourage her.”
“I’m not. I’m acknowledging reality.”
Dad rubbed his face.
I knew I was winning.
Then Daniel entered again.
“Mr. Harrison.”
Something in his tone stopped us.
“What?”
“We found the source of the photograph sent to Avery last night.”
My heart jumped.
“Who?”
“It came from a clinic security camera.”
Dad became furious.
“Who accessed it?”
“A remote administrator account.”
“Registered to?”
Daniel placed a tablet on the table.
I looked.
The account belonged to Lane Education Technologies.
Chloe’s father’s company.
“Victor Lane,” I whispered.
Claire’s eyes narrowed.
“He supplies Westbridge’s camera systems.”
Dad looked at Daniel.
“Did Victor access it personally?”
“Unknown.”
Claire said, “We need law enforcement.”
“Already contacted.”
I stared at the screen.
“So Madison’s father controls money.”
Dad nodded.
“Possibly.”
“Chloe’s father controls cameras.”
“Yes.”
“What about Sienna’s father?”
Everyone went quiet.
Claire reached for her laptop.
“Oliver Ward.”
She typed quickly.
My stomach tightened as results appeared.
Ward Strategic Security.
Private risk management.
Executive protection.
Investigation services.
I looked at Dad.
“Security.”
Claire’s face went pale.
“Ethan.”
“What?”
She turned the screen.
Ward Strategic Security held contracts with Harrison Outreach.
Westbridge Academy.
And Pacific Academic Solutions.
Dad stared at the three company names.
Richard handled money.
Victor controlled digital systems.
Oliver controlled physical security.
Their daughters were best friends.
Suddenly, their cafeteria table didn’t look like a random group of rich girls.
It looked like the next generation of three families who had spent years protecting each other.
My phone buzzed.
A text.
This time from Madison.
I opened it.
WE NEED TO TALK BEFORE OUR DADS DESTROY EACH OTHER.
Dad saw the message.
“No.”
I read the second one.
I KNOW WHERE MAYA HID IT.
My heart stopped.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
COME ALONE OR I’LL BURN IT.
