Chapter 13 - The Last Door They Tried to Open
The attempted transfer was for $94,600.
I learned the amount while standing in Rebecca's office, still wearing the black suit I'd chosen for court.
Nora was on a conference call with the bank's fraud department.
Rebecca stood beside me.
Anna had returned to her own office to prepare the next stage of the divorce proceedings.
I listened as a bank security specialist explained what had happened.
The transfer had been initiated through an administrative login associated with my business profile.
The destination was a newly added account under a company called Harborline Asset Services.
I had never heard of it.
The transfer had been stopped before funds left the account.
The bank had flagged unusual authentication activity and required additional verification.
When that verification failed, the transaction was frozen.
I sat down.
"Who attempted it?"
The specialist was careful.
"We can confirm the access pattern and device information are inconsistent with your recent activity. We're investigating the identity of the person who initiated it."
Nora leaned forward.
"Can you preserve the complete access logs?"
"Yes, subject to our procedures."
Rebecca nodded.
"We'll coordinate through the bank's legal department."
I looked at the table.
"Ninety-four thousand six hundred."
My voice sounded far away.
"That was payroll and supplier money."
Rebecca turned toward me.
"The transfer didn't go through."
"But someone tried."
"Yes."
I remembered the last time Logan had borrowed my laptop.
Three weeks earlier.
He'd claimed his own computer wasn't connecting to a property management portal.
He sat at our kitchen island while I prepared dinner.
My banking password manager had been installed on that laptop.
Suddenly, an ordinary evening felt sinister.
I closed my eyes.
"Logan used my computer."
Nora looked at me.
"When?"
I told her.
She wrote down the date.
"Don't assume that proves he initiated today's transfer," she cautioned.
"I know."
But it gave the investigators something concrete to examine.
By noon, we had taken several protective steps.
The bank restricted sensitive transactions pending verification.
We began resetting administrative credentials through secure devices.
We reviewed authorized users and revoked outdated permissions.
Grant and our bookkeeper checked upcoming payroll and vendor obligations.
Rebecca coordinated preservation requests.
There was no single dramatic button that made everything safe.
There were hours of painstaking work.
Phone calls.
Forms.
Identity checks.
Account reviews.
And the exhausting realization that protecting a business could be almost as difficult as building one.
At three o'clock, Grant called.
"Camille, someone's here."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"Helena."
I closed my eyes.
"What does she want?"
"She says she's come to settle her bill."
I stared at the phone.
"Seriously?"
"That's what she says."
I looked at Rebecca.
She shook her head slightly.
"Don't meet with her alone."
I nodded.
"Grant, tell her I'm coming."
Then I stopped.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Is Logan there?"
"No."
"Sienna?"
"No."
"Anyone else?"
"An older man."
My pulse quickened.
"Describe him."
"Gray hair. Navy suit. Expensive watch."
I thought of the photograph Sienna had shown me.
Victor Hale.
"Does he look like he's in his sixties?"
"Yes."
"Ask him his name."
There was a pause.
Muffled conversation.
Then Grant returned.
"Victor Hale."
I looked at Rebecca.
Her expression sharpened.
"Don't discuss the dispute without counsel."
I nodded.
"Grant, please seat them in the front lounge. Offer water or coffee. No alcohol."
"Understood."
I ended the call.
Rebecca gathered her papers.
"I'll come with you."
When we reached Lumina, I found Helena sitting upright on a velvet banquette.
Victor Hale sat beside her.
He was broad-shouldered, silver-haired, and perfectly composed.
A man who looked accustomed to expensive rooms and difficult negotiations.
Helena stood as I approached.
"Camille."
I looked at her.
"Helena."
Her eyes shifted toward Rebecca.
"Oh, wonderful. Another lawyer."
Rebecca extended her hand.
"Rebecca Shaw."
Victor stood.
"Victor Hale."
They exchanged polite greetings.
I remained standing.
"What can I do for you?"
Helena glanced toward the dining room.
"Can we speak privately?"
I looked at the lounge.
It was almost empty.
"This is private enough."
Victor smiled.
"Mrs. Mercer, I understand there's been considerable tension within your family."
I didn't answer.
He continued.
"I'd like to propose a reasonable solution."
Rebecca sat down.
"Let's hear it."
Victor gestured toward a leather portfolio.
"Logan has certain financial obligations."
I looked at Helena.
She studied the floor.
Victor continued.
"Those obligations have become difficult to service."
I folded my arms.
"What does that have to do with me?"
"Potentially nothing."
He smiled.
"But there may be a mutually beneficial arrangement."
Rebecca spoke.
"Please be specific."
Victor opened his portfolio.
Inside was a proposed settlement document.
I looked at the first page.
Then the second.
And realized I was staring at another attempt to take Lumina.
The arrangement involved a new management company.
A financing facility.
A controlling interest.
And language that would release Logan and Helena from certain claims connected to the business.
I stared at Victor.
"You want me to surrender control of my restaurant."
He shook his head.
"I prefer the term partnership."
"That's not what the document says."
He smiled faintly.
"Control is an emotional word."
I leaned forward.
"So is theft."
Rebecca touched the papers.
"These terms are unacceptable."
Victor's expression didn't change.
"You haven't considered the alternatives."
I looked at him.
"What alternatives?"
"Litigation can be expensive."
"Yes."
"Bad publicity can damage a hospitality business."
"Yes."
"And prolonged family disputes can distract an owner from operations."
"That's true."
He leaned back.
"Then perhaps a settlement is the sensible path."
I studied him.
He was careful.
Too careful to say anything explicitly threatening.
But the message was obvious.
Give up control.
Avoid more trouble.
I looked at Helena.
"Is this why you're here?"
She raised her chin.
"Victor is trying to help."
"Help whom?"
"Everyone."
I glanced at the settlement document.
"Everyone except me."
Her face tightened.
"You are being unreasonable."
I took a breath.
"Helena, you still owe Lumina $23,289."
She looked stunned.
"You're bringing that up now?"
"Yes."
"After everything that's happened?"
"Yes."
She turned toward Victor.
"See what I mean?"
He regarded me thoughtfully.
"That seems like a comparatively small amount."
"Then perhaps one of you can pay it."
Victor smiled without warmth.
"I'm not responsible for Mrs. Mercer's personal expenses."
I nodded.
"Exactly."
Then I looked at Helena.
"And neither is Lumina."
For the first time, Victor seemed genuinely interested in me.
He closed his portfolio.
"Mrs. Mercer, I believe you're making this unnecessarily difficult."
I stood.
"I'm not signing anything."
Helena's face darkened.
"Camille—"
"And from now on, any proposed settlement goes through my attorneys."
Rebecca gathered the document.
"We'll retain a copy if you're offering it for review."
Victor considered this.
Then nodded.
"Of course."
He stood.
Helena remained seated.
I looked down at her.
"You told thirty-eight women you were paying for lunch."
She said nothing.
"You signed for it."
She looked away.
"You ordered food worth more than many people earn in several months."
Her eyes flashed.
"Don't lecture me."
"Then stop expecting me to pay for your choices."
She stood abruptly.
"You are destroying this family!"
I looked at her.
"No."
My voice was quiet.
"I'm refusing to let this family destroy me."
Victor placed a hand near her elbow.
"Helena, let's go."
She jerked away.
Then she looked directly into my eyes.
And said something that revealed more than she intended.
"Your restaurant was supposed to fix everything."
I froze.
"What?"
She looked horrified with herself.
Victor's expression changed.
"Helena."
But I stepped closer.
"Fix what?"
She looked away.
"Nothing."
"Helena."
Her mouth trembled.
"For years, Logan told me we would all be secure."
I stared at her.
"Secure from what?"
May you like
She sank back onto the banquette.
And finally, the truth began to surface.
