CHAPTER 6: The Investigation
CHAPTER 6: The Investigation
I didn't open the folder right away.
Instead, I sat quietly at my desk, staring at the thick stack of documents Mr. Lewis had left behind.
For years, I had dreamed of justice.
Now that it was sitting in front of me, it didn't feel satisfying.
It felt heavy.
Because whatever was inside those pages wouldn't just change my parents' lives.
It would affect hundreds of employees who had done nothing wrong.
I thought about Grandpa Walter.
He had spent forty years building Bennett Property Group one project at a time.
He knew the names of carpenters' children.
He attended retirement parties.
He sent flowers when an employee lost a spouse.
To him, the company had never been about money.
It had been about people.
I owed those people the truth.
That afternoon, I called Michael Harrison.
"I have new information."
His tone became serious immediately.
"What kind?"
"Financial records."
"From whom?"
"The company's accountant."
There was a brief silence.
"Can you bring everything to my office?"
"I'll be there in thirty minutes."
Michael spent nearly two hours reviewing the documents.
The deeper he read, the more concerned he looked.
Finally, he removed his glasses.
"This is worse than I expected."
"How bad?"
"There appear to be multiple breaches of fiduciary duty."
"And the loans?"
"They're real."
He tapped one page.
"Your father personally guaranteed some of them."
"What does that mean?"
"If the company can't recover the money..."
"...he may be personally liable."
I leaned back in my chair.
"So this isn't just about losing his job."
"No."
"It could become a civil—and possibly criminal—matter if investigators determine company funds were intentionally misused."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
Despite everything, hearing those words wasn't easy.
He had been a terrible father.
But he was still my father.
Michael studied me carefully.
"You don't have to push this forward."
I looked up.
"I didn't create these documents."
"No."
"I didn't move company money."
"No."
"I didn't tell him to treat one granddaughter like she mattered less than another."
Michael nodded.
"Then let the facts speak."
Three days later, the new board requested a meeting.
It was the first time I had entered Bennett Property Group's headquarters since Grandpa's funeral.
The receptionist recognized me immediately.
"Ms. Bennett."
Her eyes softened.
"It's good to see you again."
As I walked through the lobby, several longtime employees smiled politely.
Some even thanked me.
At first, I didn't understand why.
Then one of the project managers approached.
"I just wanted to say..."
He hesitated.
"...thank you for stopping the layoffs."
I frowned.
"What layoffs?"
He looked surprised.
"The new board canceled them yesterday."
My heart sank.
Dad had planned to lay off dozens of employees.
Not because the company couldn't afford them—
But because he needed to hide the financial damage elsewhere.
The board meeting lasted nearly four hours.
Every document Mr. Lewis provided was reviewed.
Every loan.
Every transfer.
Every questionable expense.
When it was over, the board chair folded his hands.
"Ms. Bennett."
"Yes?"
"We owe you an apology."
I raised an eyebrow.
"For what?"
"We assumed your father represented your grandfather's values."
He paused.
"We were wrong."
Another director spoke.
"Without your decision to sell your shares—and without these records—we might not have discovered the extent of the financial problems until it was too late."
They voted unanimously to authorize an independent forensic audit.
No arguments.
No hesitation.
The truth would be examined by professionals.
Not hidden behind family loyalty.
News traveled fast.
By that evening, local business reporters had learned that Bennett Property Group was conducting an internal financial investigation.
My father's phone calls stopped.
So did Chloe's.
For the first time in weeks...
Silence.
Until Friday afternoon.
There was another knock at my door.
When I opened it, I barely recognized Chloe.
Her perfect hair was tied back carelessly.
Her expensive makeup couldn't hide the dark circles under her eyes.
She wasn't carrying a designer handbag.
She wasn't wearing jewelry.
She looked... frightened.
"Can we talk?"
I stepped outside, closing the front door behind me.
"What do you want?"
She swallowed hard.
"I didn't know."
I waited.
"I swear I didn't know Dad borrowed money."
"Maybe not."
She nodded quickly.
"I thought he was helping us."
"With what?"
She looked away.
"My husband's investment business collapsed three years ago."
"I know."
"He promised he'd pay everything back."
"Did he?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
"No."
I wasn't surprised.
Chloe wrapped her arms around herself against the cold.
"I need your help."
The words sounded strange coming from the sister who had mocked me my entire life.
"Help with what?"
"If Dad goes bankrupt..."
"...we lose the house."
I looked at her quietly.
"The same house you told Mia she'd never belong in?"
She flinched.
"I know what I said."
"Do you?"
"I was awful."
"Yes."
"I was jealous."
That caught me off guard.
"Jealous?"
"You had Daniel."
Her voice cracked.
"You had someone who loved you."
She laughed bitterly.
"I spent my whole life chasing Mom and Dad's approval."
She wiped away a tear.
"I didn't realize they'd turned me into someone I don't even like."
For the first time, I didn't see the smug, favored daughter.
I saw a woman who had spent decades confusing favoritism with love.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Not because Dad lost the company."
She looked me straight in the eyes.
"I'm sorry because I watched them hurt Mia..."
"...and I laughed."
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, she reached into her coat pocket.
She handed me a small envelope.
"What's this?"
"Letters."
"From who?"
"Ethan."
I frowned.
"He wrote them after Christmas."
"Why?"
"He asked why Grandma loved him more than Mia."
My heart stopped.
Chloe looked devastated.
"I didn't know how to answer him."
She turned toward her car.
Before getting inside, she said one last thing.
"If there's ever a chance..."
"...tell Mia I'm sorry."
Then she drove away.
I stood on the porch holding the envelope.
Inside were several pages written in the uneven handwriting of a five-year-old boy.
The first line read:
"Dear Mia, I didn't know the presents would make you sad."
As I unfolded the rest of the letter, my phone buzzed.
It was Michael Harrison.
His voice was unusually tense.
"Lauren..."
"The forensic auditors found something this morning."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"They believe the missing money isn't twelve million dollars."
A long pause followed.
"It's closer to twenty-eight million."
May you like
And suddenly, what had started as a cruel Christmas morning no longer looked like a simple story of favoritism.
It looked like the beginning of a scandal that could send someone to prison.
