Chapter 4 - The Grant Board

“That's why he wanted the camera,” Priya said. “Not to prove you hurt David. To make sure somebody saw enough to doubt you.”

We sat in her small office at midnight, watching the edited clip with the sound off. On the wall hung a child's drawing of a purple courthouse.

“ClearLedger isn't firing you yet,” she said. “We'll send them the complete video.”

“I should have seen this coming.”

“You saw a man hand his son a belt. Don't turn his choice into your failure.”

I opened the folder I'd carried in my car for two weeks: public grant payments, redacted invoices supplied by residents through Priya, and the planned sale of Juniper House, a building operated by the Haven House Foundation. Because David's family controlled Haven House, I had disclosed the conflict at ClearLedger and stepped away from its official review. Filing my own complaint was different from accessing private client records.

Robert chaired the foundation. His real estate company wanted to turn Juniper House into luxury condos. But the building wasn't empty, no matter what his reports claimed.

“On Thursday,” I said, “the county grant board is reviewing why residents were charged relocation fees for moves that never happened.”

Priya nodded. “The complaint you filed last Friday is already in the oversight office's system. The footage won't erase it.”

“That was my other secret.”

“What was?”

“I didn't just work in accounting because I liked numbers. I lived in Juniper House with my mom when I was a kid.”

Priya put down her pen. I hadn't told her that before.

“That place is why I'm still standing,” I said. “Robert wants to sell it out from under women who are starting over.”

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My phone lit up with an unfamiliar number. The message contained no greeting, only a photo of a front door and a warning: He knows where we moved. My little boy is inside.

I recognized the name signed below it. Nora Reed. One of the residents whose supposedly confidential address had appeared in Southgate's billing file.