Chapter 3 - THE CHAIRMAN'S DEBT
Martin Bellamy froze.
The elderly chairman stared at the silver money clip resting on the table as if it were a venomous snake. His hands, resting on the white linen tablecloth, began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Adrian, I can explain," Martin stammered, his distinguished composure shattering instantly.
"You pushed a woman down a flight of stairs?" Richard Caldwell asked, looking at Martin with pure disgust. "You, a man who manages millions in charitable funds, were chasing a teenager with a knife?"
"No!" Martin shouted, his voice cracking. He looked desperately at Adrian. "I didn't push her. I wasn't even at the school that night!"
"The clip belongs to your family," Adrian stated, his tone dangerously calm.
"I lost that money clip three years ago," Martin pleaded, stepping away from the table. "I swear to you, Adrian. My house was burglarized. You remember! I filed a police report."
I looked at Martin carefully. He was frail, walking with a slight limp of his own. The man in the stairwell had been fast, broad-shouldered, and terrifyingly strong.
"It wasn't him," I said quietly.
Everyone turned back to me.
"The man in the dark was younger," I explained, remembering the heavy footfalls on the concrete stairs. "Much younger. And bigger."
Martin let out a ragged breath of relief, sinking back into his chair.
But Adrian’s eyes narrowed. "If it wasn't Martin, then someone who had access to Martin's stolen property was in that school."
Vanessa crossed her arms, her red gown shimmering in the chandelier light. "Well, that narrows it down to the entire city of Chicago. Can we please end this charade? Grace's scholarship should be suspended until the police investigate."
"No," Emily, the scholarship coordinator, interrupted. Her fingers were flying across her laptop keyboard. "Mr. Moretti... I just checked the original police report from Martin's burglary three years ago."
Adrian didn't look away from Vanessa. "What does it say, Emily?"
"The police recovered the stolen items a week later," Emily read, her voice shaky. "They were found in the trunk of a car belonging to a twenty-two-year-old man who was arrested for street racing."
"What was his name?" Adrian asked.
Emily looked up, her eyes wide with shock. She looked directly at Vanessa.
"His name was Julian Laurent," Emily said.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Laurent.
Vanessa’s maiden name.
Vanessa’s face turned the color of ash. "That's a lie. My brother has been living in Europe for the last four years. He's studying business in London."
"Is he?" Adrian asked, his voice suddenly void of all warmth. He walked toward his fiancée. "Because you told me your brother was a successful investment banker."
"He is!" Vanessa insisted, her voice pitching higher. "Emily must be looking at a mistake in the system!"
"There is no mistake," a new voice echoed from the doorway of the dining room.
We all turned.
Standing in the grand archway was a young man in a worn leather jacket. His face was bruised, and he looked exhausted.
But I recognized him instantly.
It was the terrified boy from the high school stairwell.
Grace gasped, grabbing my arm. "Mom... that's Leo. He works at the library with me."
Leo walked slowly into the room. He didn't look at the wealthy guests. He looked straight at Vanessa.
"Julian isn't in London, Vanessa," Leo said bitterly. "He never left Chicago. He's been running illegal gambling rings out of the South Side. And two years ago, when I couldn't pay back a debt my father owed him, Julian came to the school to collect it with a blade."
Vanessa backed away, hitting the edge of the table. "You're lying! You're just a street rat trying to extort us!"
Leo ignored her. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. He placed it next to the silver money clip.
It was a bank deposit slip.
"Julian dropped the money clip when Mrs. Dawson pushed him," Leo said to Adrian. "But he also dropped this. I went back to the stairs the next morning and found it. Look at the account number, Mr. Moretti."
Adrian picked up the slip. His eyes scanned the numbers, and the muscle in his jaw jumped.
He looked at Vanessa, his expression colder than ice.
"This is the routing number for the foundation's emergency relief fund," Adrian said. He looked at Martin Bellamy. "And a deposit of eighteen thousand dollars was made into this account the exact same week Mrs. Dawson received her workers' compensation settlement."
Martin turned pale.
"Vanessa," Adrian whispered. "Why is your brother depositing money into our foundation?"
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Before Vanessa could answer, Leo spoke again, delivering the final blow.
"He wasn't depositing money, Mr. Moretti," Leo said. "He was refunding it. Because Vanessa didn't just change the scholarship rules tonight. For the last three years, she's been secretly using the foundation's money to pay off her brother's gambling debts."
