Chapter 7 - THE AUDIT BENEATH THE AFFAIR
The forensic report arrived six weeks later.
Mark called me from his office.
His voice was flat.
“Blue Crest is owned by Chloe’s brother.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Not a random criminal mastermind.
Not a secret foreign syndicate.
A family connection that should have been disclosed.
“How much?”
“Overbilling compared with regional averages?”
“Yes.”
“About fourteen percent.”
“And total volume?”
“Four point eight million.”
I did the arithmetic silently.
“Mark.”
“I know.”
“Were services delivered?”
“Yes.”
“So not fake invoices.”
“No.”
That mattered.
Bad governance was not the same as imaginary work.
“What else?”
“North Line Freight is partially owned by the same holding company.”
“And C&M?”
“Owned by Chloe’s former business partner.”
“Undisclosed?”
“Yes.”
“What does her contract say?”
“She was required to disclose related vendors.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Kickbacks?”
“The accountants haven’t found direct payments to her.”
“Then don’t say she took kickbacks.”
“I didn’t.”
His voice sharpened.
“I’m learning.”
I almost smiled.
“What is counsel recommending?”
“Termination for cause.”
“And recovery?”
“Negotiation first. Litigation if necessary.”
“What about Chloe?”
“She says her brother gave us priority delivery during shortages and that the pricing reflected guaranteed supply.”
“Is that true?”
“Partially.”
“So this isn’t black and white.”
“No.”
That surprised him.
“You’re not going to say she robbed me?”
“I told you I wouldn’t accuse somebody without evidence.”
“She hid the relationship.”
“Yes.”
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
“She cost me money.”
“Likely.”
“But?”
“But if the company received goods and services, the legal question is damages, disclosure and whether pricing breached duties under her consulting agreement.”
He was silent.
“I hate how calm you are.”
“I’m not calm.”
“You sound calm.”
“I’m in an office.”
He laughed once.
Then he sighed.
“Midwest wants an equity injection.”
“How much?”
“Two million.”
“Can you do it?”
“Not personally.”
“What are your options?”
“Sell equipment. Bring in a partner. Cancel the municipal bid. Maybe sell part of the company.”
“Which one protects payroll?”
He went quiet.
“You still think like an owner.”
“I am an owner.”
“Of Sterling.”
“Yes.”
“I meant Vance.”
“No.”
“You used to.”
I stared at the window.
“No. I used to think like your partner.”
Another silence.
“I was bad at that,” he said.
“Yes.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You don’t soften anything anymore.”
“I spent years softening everything. Look where it got us.”
A week later, he came to Toronto for the third counseling session.
This time he arrived early.
Sophia noticed that too.
Dr. Morris smiled.
“Something different today?”
Sophia nodded toward the clock.
“Dad’s early.”
Mark looked embarrassed.
“Seven minutes.”
Maya smiled.
“That’s better than eleven late.”
Even Mark laughed.
They spent most of the session discussing small things.
Sophia’s science project.
Maya’s missing front tooth.
Mark’s temporary apartment in Chicago.
Then Sophia asked, “Where do I sleep if we visit?”
Mark froze.
It was the first time she had voluntarily mentioned visiting.
“I have a two-bedroom place.”
“Who gets the other room?”
“You and Maya.”
“Together?”
“Yes.”
She considered it.
“Where does the baby sleep?”
“Chloe isn’t living with me right now.”
Sophia looked surprised.
“Why?”
Mark glanced at Dr. Morris.
Then at me.
I was attending only because the therapist requested it.
“We’re having problems.”
“Because of work?”
“Partly.”
“Because she lied?”
He looked startled.
“Who told you that?”
“No one.”
Sophia shrugged.
“You said on the phone that lawyers were looking at stuff.”
Mark glanced at me.
I shook my head.
He believed me.
That itself was new.
“Yes,” he said. “She didn’t tell me some things she should have.”
Sophia frowned.
“Are you getting divorced?”
“We’re not married.”
“Oh.”
Maya looked up.
“Then is she still having our brother?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“In about six weeks.”
“Can we meet him?”
Mark’s face changed.
“You want to?”
Maya nodded.
“He didn’t do anything.”
The room went quiet.
Sophia looked at her little sister.
Then said, “She’s right.”
Mark swallowed.
“No. He didn’t.”
Sophia’s voice was careful.
“I don’t hate him.”
“I know.”
“I hate what everybody said about him.”
Mark’s eyes filled.
“I know.”
“No,” Sophia said. “I don’t think you did before.”
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
Dr. Morris leaned forward.
“What would you like to say to Sophia?”
Mark looked at his daughter.
“I made you feel replaceable.”
Sophia did not move.
“And you weren’t.”
Her eyes filled.
“You were never supposed to be something I could replace.”
He swallowed.
“I was so focused on finally having a son that I acted like being your father had been some kind of consolation prize.”
Sophia wiped her cheek.
“Why?”
Mark breathed out.
“Because my father raised me to believe sons proved something.”
“What?”
“That the family continued.”
Sophia frowned.
“But Maya and I are still family.”
“I know.”
“You knew before.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t that count?”
Mark looked down.
“Because I was arrogant.”
Dr. Morris said nothing.
He continued.
“And because I liked my father being proud of me.”
Sophia stared at him.
“Grandpa wasn’t proud when we were born?”
Mark looked devastated.
“He was.”
“Not the same?”
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“That’s what I thought.”
Later, after the girls went upstairs with my mother, Mark sat in the kitchen.
He stared at the table.
“I wish I could punch my old self.”
“That won’t help.”
“I know.”
He looked at me.
“Do you hate my father?”
“No.”
“My mother?”
“No.”
“Patricia?”
“Sometimes.”
He almost laughed.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked at it.
“Chloe?”
“Yes.”
“Everything okay?”
“She wants to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“She says she’s willing to settle the vendor dispute if I restore her consulting contract.”
“What did counsel say?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Listen to counsel.”
“She also says if I keep accusing her, she’ll seek full custody when the baby is born.”
I watched him.
“You’re afraid.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Good?”
“Now you know what every serious parenting decision feels like.”
“That’s cruel.”
“No.”
I lowered my voice.
“It’s perspective.”
He looked away.
“What if she keeps my son from me?”
“Then you document your involvement, show up, follow legal advice and behave like the father you want the court to see.”
He stared at me.
“Is that what you did?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I behaved like the mother my daughters needed.”
His face softened.
“Fair.”
Before he left, Sophia came downstairs.
“Dad?”
He turned.
“Yeah?”
“Are you coming next month?”
“Yes.”
“What date?”
He smiled.
“June seventeenth. Flight lands at 3:40.”
She looked at me.
I nodded.
Sophia turned back to him.
“Okay.”
He grinned.
“Okay good?”
“Just okay.”
“That’s progress.”
She almost smiled.
At the airport the next morning, Mark called his father.
I later learned about the conversation from Arthur himself.
Mark said, “Dad, I need you to stop calling the baby the heir.”
Arthur replied, “What?”
“You heard me.”
“He’s my grandson.”
“So are Sophia and Maya your grandchildren.”
“Of course.”
“Then talk like it.”
Arthur went quiet.
Mark continued.
“Sophia thinks you weren’t proud when she was born.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Mark.”
“Were you as excited?”
Silence.
Mark closed his eyes.
“That’s what I thought.”
Arthur’s voice hardened.
“This generation gets offended by everything.”
“No.”
“What?”
“My daughter got hurt by something.”
“That doesn’t mean we intended—”
“I don’t care what we intended.”
Arthur stopped.
Mark said, “I spent years hiding behind intent.”
“Son—”
“No. I’m done.”
For the first time in his life, Mark Vance challenged the family tradition he had spent years trying to satisfy.
May you like
It did not repair the damage.
But it changed the direction of it.
