Chapter 12 - The Keeper of the Keys
Malcolm had been my father's accountant long before he became Harborline's managing director. He'd attended my wedding. He'd called me kiddo after I sold my first business. I would have trusted him with a house key and never thought twice.
Ruth asked him to come in with his own counsel.
At first Malcolm pretended not to remember the amendment. Then Ruth put it on the table and pointed to his signature.
“I was told it was routine,” he said.
“By whom?” I asked.
He looked at me with wet, exhausted eyes. “Diane. She knew about some loans I took to cover my wife's medical care. She said she'd make sure the bank didn't call them if I helped.”
“Did you give Vanessa access to Harborline's investor files?”
“Yes.”
The word felt like a door closing.
Malcolm insisted he hadn't known about the humiliating gala. That might have been true. It didn't change what he did to the company or to me.
“You could have come to me,” I said.
“I was ashamed.”
“I would have helped you get a lawyer. I would not have paid you to betray everyone else.”
We suspended his authority, notified the independent committee, and preserved the evidence. I didn't ask Ruth to make the matter disappear because Malcolm had once been kind to me.
On the drive home, I called my mother. She listened, then said, “Honey, you can love someone and still tell the truth about what they did.”
I cried for the first time since the gala.
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At eight that night, the committee's investigator called. Malcolm's access records showed that someone had copied my trust's signature files into an outside folder.
The folder was labeled GRACE – RELEASE AFTER FRIDAY.
