Chapter 4: The First Crack
I spent the morning in the vault alone. Screens glowing blue against the dark walls. Numbers and names scrolling like they had been waiting for me to look at them. I didn't rush. I read slowly. Let every detail sink in.
Harrington Group's debt wasn't just high. It was a house of cards built on short-term loans from private lenders who didn't like waiting. One missed payment and the whole thing could fold. They'd been hiding it behind optimistic projections and that merger they were chasing with Langford. The same merger Harlan mentioned. The one Victoria was having lunch about tomorrow.
I leaned back in the chair. Rubbed my eyes. The photo of me and Grandfather still sat on the desk. I hadn't moved it. Every time I glanced at it I felt something tug. Not nostalgia exactly. More like a reminder that I hadn't always been the guy who said yes to everything.
Around noon Harlan knocked once and entered. He carried a single sheet of paper. Printed. No tablet this time.
"The anonymous package landed," he said. "Board members received it thirty minutes ago. Emails from three different directors already circulating. They're asking questions."
I took the paper. A forwarded chain of emails. Subject lines getting sharper with each reply.
"What did the package include?"
"Enough to raise eyebrows. Copies of the forged transfers. Timeline matching their accusations against you. A single line at the bottom: 'Ask Eleanor Harrington where the money really went.'"
I almost smiled. Almost.
"They'll call an emergency meeting," I said.
"Already scheduled for four this afternoon. Virtual. Eleanor is trying to keep it quiet."
"Good. Let her sweat."
Harlan paused. "There's movement from Victoria."
I looked up.
"She canceled her afternoon appointments. Booked a last-minute spa session. Then she called her lawyer. Short conversation. She asked about speeding up the divorce filing. Wanted it filed by end of week."
I nodded slowly. "And?"
"She also searched your name online. Multiple times. Different variations. Ethan Black. Ethan Harrington. Even Ethan Black Consortium. Nothing came up, of course. We scrubbed everything years ago."
"She's curious."
"Or nervous."
I stood. Walked to the small bar cart in the corner. Poured water into a glass. Drank half. The cold helped clear my head.
"Send her something," I said.
Harlan raised an eyebrow. First real expression I'd seen from him today.
"Not much," I continued. "Just enough to make her wonder. A single bank alert to her personal account. One dollar deposit. Memo line: 'For services rendered.' From an untraceable source."
He considered it. "Subtle."
"Exactly."
He made the note on his phone. "Done within the hour."
I set the glass down. "What else?"
"Your first public appearance. We've arranged a low-profile meeting tonight. Dinner with Marcus Langford's chief financial officer. He's in town. Doesn't know who you are yet. Thinks he's meeting a potential investor interested in Harrington Group."
I looked at him. "You work fast."
"Your grandfather taught me to be ready."
I thought about it. Marcus Langford's people were key. If I could plant doubt before the merger talks even started…
"Set it up," I said. "Neutral location. Somewhere quiet. I'll go alone."
Harlan nodded. "Eight o'clock. The Peninsula rooftop. Private table."
I glanced at the screens again. One window showed live feed from Harrington Group's headquarters lobby. People moving fast. Phones to ears. Eleanor's assistant looked like she hadn't sat down in hours.
The first crack.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just a hairline fracture in something they thought was unbreakable.
I turned off the main monitor. The room dimmed slightly.
"I need to get out for a bit," I said. "Clear my head before tonight."
Harlan didn't argue. "The garage has what you need. Black Audi. Keys on the hook. No plates that trace back."
I left the vault. Walked upstairs. Grabbed a coat from the closet. Dark wool. Fit perfectly.
Outside the air was crisp. Sun low but still bright. I slid into the driver's seat. Engine purred to life. Smooth. Powerful. The opposite of everything I'd driven the last five years.
I pulled out of the driveway. No destination at first. Just driving.
City streets blurred past. Tall buildings. People on sidewalks living normal lives. I passed the street where Victoria and I used to walk after dinner. Back when she laughed at my jokes. Back when she held my hand like it meant something.
I didn't stop. Kept going.
Eventually I ended up near the river. Parked. Got out. Leaned against the railing. Watched the water move slow and dark below.
My phone buzzed once. Message from Harlan.
Victoria received the deposit. She stared at her phone for ninety seconds. Then she called the bank. Asked who sent it. They couldn't tell her. She hung up. Paced her living room for ten minutes. Then she searched your name again.
I slipped the phone back in my pocket.
The wind off the river was cold. It felt good.
I looked at my reflection in the water. Distorted. Shifting.
Not the man who walked out of that gala in the rain.
Not anymore.
Tonight I'd sit across from a stranger who thought he was about to close the deal of his career.
And I'd start unraveling it.
One quiet word at a time.
I got back in the car. Turned toward the city.
The sun dipped lower.
The shadows got longer.
And for the first time in years, I didn't feel small in them.