Chapter 13 - HARBOR VIEW
Harbor View sounded like a property.
It wasn’t.
At least, not exactly.
Daniel Ross recognized the name immediately.
“It was a project.”
We were in Caroline’s conference room again.
The flash drive sat unopened in front of us.
“What kind of project?” I asked.
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
“Commercial redevelopment.”
“David’s company invested in a waterfront warehouse district about five years ago.”
“The project failed.”
“Or that’s what we were told.”
Caroline leaned forward.
“What do you mean?”
“Investors were informed that zoning delays and construction overruns destroyed the returns.”
“Several partners wrote off significant losses.”
I stared at him.
“Did David lose money?”
“That’s the problem.”
“I don’t think he did.”
Daniel connected the flash drive to an isolated computer.
Inside were scanned agreements.
Emails.
Financial statements.
One document showed the sale of development rights to another company.
A company controlled through two layers of limited liability corporations.
Caroline read the names.
Then looked at Daniel.
“These are the same entities.”
He nodded.
The room became silent.
I felt completely out of my depth.
“Explain it to me like I know nothing.”
Caroline turned toward me.
“Harbor View may have been represented to investors as a failure.”
“But assets connected to the project may have been transferred into entities David controlled.”
“So other people lost money?”
“Potentially.”
“And David didn’t?”
“Potentially.”
Daniel scrolled through an email.
“There.”
A message from David.
Keep the revised valuation separate from partner reporting until the restructuring is complete.
My stomach tightened.
“Is that illegal?”
Caroline answered carefully.
“It could become relevant to civil or criminal issues depending on what happened, who was told what, and where the money went.”
I leaned back.
This was no longer a divorce story.
I hated that.
I wanted my life to become smaller, not bigger.
I wanted a house.
A lawyer.
A settlement.
A daughter calling from her honeymoon.
Instead, I had financial documents that might affect strangers I had never met.
“Who sent the drive?”
Nobody knew.
Then Daniel opened the final folder.
Inside was a photograph.
David at a restaurant.
Across from him sat Rebecca Collins, the corporate attorney.
Next to her was a man I recognized.
I stared.
“No.”
Caroline looked at me.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Peter Wallace.”
Rebecca frowned.
“Your neighbor?”
I shook my head.
“Our financial advisor.”
For fifteen years, Peter Wallace had sat at our dining table twice a year.
He had reviewed retirement projections.
He had reassured me our future was secure.
He had told me David’s investments were conservative.
He had looked me in the eye while explaining numbers my husband was apparently moving behind my back.
I called him.
He answered cheerfully.
“Margaret.”
“Peter.”
“How are you holding up?”
The question made my skin crawl.
“You heard about the wedding?”
“People talk.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
Silence.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you know Rebecca Collins?”
A longer silence.
Then.
“I know many attorneys.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Caroline gestured for me to continue.
“Do you know about Harbor View?”
Peter exhaled.
“Margaret, where are you getting these names?”
There it was.
Not confusion.
Fear.
I closed my eyes.
“How long have you been helping David?”
“I have never helped David do anything improper.”
I had not used the word improper.
Neither had Caroline.
I looked at her.
She nodded slowly.
Peter continued.
“I think you should stop calling people based on information you don’t understand.”
The sentence was almost identical to David.
I smiled without humor.
“Goodbye, Peter.”
I ended the call.
Caroline wrote down every word.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
May you like
You found Harbor View.
Now ask who paid for Emily’s wedding.
