Chapter 7 - THE MAN BEHIND THE BILLION-DOLLAR BETRAYALVictor Lang was a man who rarely appeared surprised.
Even when Patricia read the seventy-five-million-dollar payment request aloud, he remained seated with his hands folded.
"That instruction was part of a previously negotiated financing arrangement," he said.
Daniel immediately responded.
"Then provide the executed agreement authorizing the transfer."
Victor smiled.
"Of course."
But he didn't open his portfolio.
He didn't produce a document.
Instead, he looked at Aaron.
"Perhaps your former CEO would like to explain."
Aaron's face was pale.
"Victor, what are you doing?"
Victor's smile disappeared.
"Protecting my clients."
"What clients?"
"Clients whose interests you've repeatedly jeopardized."
Nathan stood.
"This isn't what we agreed on."
I turned toward him.
"What did you agree on, Nathan?"
He froze.
Victor spoke before he could answer.
"There's no reason to involve family disputes in this meeting."
Patricia closed her folder.
"Mr. Lang, your participation in this meeting was permitted because Mr. Prescott represented you as an adviser. Given the apparent conflict, I'm asking you to leave while the board discusses these matters with counsel."
Victor looked at her.
Then at me.
For the first time, his eyes showed something personal.
Not fear.
Recognition.
"Your mother was a formidable woman, Ms. Reed."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Did you know her?"
"By reputation."
He stood.
"She understood that business is a game of leverage."
"My mother understood that business involves responsibilities."
Victor smiled thinly.
"Then perhaps you'll appreciate how expensive those responsibilities can become."
He left.
Nathan followed him.
Jasmine hesitated.
Then hurried after them.
Aaron remained standing beside his chair.
Patricia looked at him.
"Are you willing to answer questions without Mr. Lang present?"
He stared at the door.
Then slowly sat.
"Yes."
The room seemed to exhale.
What followed lasted nearly three hours.
Aaron admitted he had signed a series of agreements with Victor's companies.
He claimed Victor had promised to provide new financing, reduce Northstar's influence, and help Prescott Global avoid an impending liquidity crisis.
According to Aaron, Victor said the advisory fees would eventually be offset through a larger capital transaction.
The forty-eight-million-dollar payment had been described to him as a restructuring commitment.
"Why was Jasmine's company used?" Patricia asked.
Aaron looked at the table.
"Victor said she could coordinate the project."
"Did she perform forty-eight million dollars' worth of work?"
Aaron said nothing.
Patricia repeated the question.
"No," he finally whispered.
My chest tightened.
"Then why authorize it?"
Aaron rubbed his face.
"Because Victor said the financing wouldn't close unless the payment was made."
"And the seventy-five million?" Daniel asked.
"I didn't authorize that."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Did you provide Victor with access to company systems?"
Aaron hesitated.
"He had authorized advisers on the restructuring team."
"That isn't the same question."
Aaron looked sick.
"I gave his team access to certain data rooms and financial systems."
Patricia's voice hardened.
"Did you grant payment authority?"
"No."
"Did you share credentials?"
Aaron stared at his hands.
"I gave Nathan access to an executive authorization device when I was traveling."
Silence.
I felt cold.
"Nathan?"
Aaron nodded.
"He said he needed it to approve routine expenses."
Daniel leaned back.
"That is a serious internal-control failure."
Aaron didn't argue.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that no amount of shouting could turn these facts into someone else's fault.
Patricia adjourned the meeting and instructed counsel to preserve the systems and coordinate with the banks.
The company's interim leadership team would take control of daily operations.
Northstar agreed to evaluate temporary liquidity support, subject to independent oversight and appropriate protections for the fund's investors.
I insisted that payroll continuity be included in those discussions.
Not because I could personally command an investment fund to ignore its duties.
But because avoiding unnecessary damage to a viable business was also in the interests of its investors.
By evening, our investigators had secured a court-authorized preservation order relating to specified financial records.
The company's counsel began pursuing recovery of the questionable payments.
And Aaron's attorneys informed us that he was willing to cooperate with the internal investigation.
That didn't erase what he had done.
But it meant we might finally discover the truth.
At 7:40 p.m., Margaret called me.
"We've identified another person connected to Victor."
"Who?"
"Your husband's brother."
I closed my eyes.
"Nathan."
"His consulting company received four million dollars from Cole Strategic Ventures."
I sat down.
"Did Jasmine authorize it?"
"That's under investigation."
"Where is Nathan now?"
"Unknown. He left the building after the meeting."
"Has the bank confirmed whether the seventy-five million moved?"
"No. The transaction was stopped before release."
I exhaled.
"Thank God."
Margaret hesitated.
"Claire, there's something else."
"What?"
"The forensic team found evidence that someone accessed a scanned copy of the Reed trust certificate from Aaron's office."
I stood.
"When?"
"Two months ago."
My mind raced.
Two months ago.
The forged power of attorney.
The missing mahogany case.
Victor's interest in Northstar.
"Who accessed it?"
"We're still verifying the account history."
I walked toward my mother's study.
The old mahogany desk stood beneath the window.
I remembered my mother sitting there late at night, reading financial reports with a pencil tucked behind her ear.
She had taught me that wealth wasn't simply money.
It was the ability to make decisions.
And every decision affected somebody.
I had forgotten how much she'd wanted me to take responsibility for what she'd built.
I had spent years hiding behind the comfortable idea that anonymity was the same as independence.
Now someone had used my silence as an opportunity.
At 8:15 p.m., I received a call from an unfamiliar number.
I answered.
"Claire?"
Jasmine.
Her voice sounded nothing like it had in the office lobby.
She was crying.
"Jasmine?"
"I need to talk to you."
I remained silent.
"Please. Aaron isn't answering my calls."
"What do you want?"
"Victor took my phone."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"He said I wasn't allowed to contact anyone."
"Where are you?"
She hesitated.
"I'm at a hotel."
"Are you safe?"
"I think so."
I looked toward the doorway.
Sarah was working at the dining-room table.
I put the call on speaker and signaled for her to join me.
"Jasmine, if you're in immediate danger, call emergency services."
"No. I'm not hurt."
"Then tell me what's happening."
She began crying harder.
"Victor said Aaron was going to make us rich."
Sarah wrote something on a notepad.
I asked, "Who is Victor to you?"
A long silence.
Then Jasmine whispered, "My brother."
I stared at the phone.
"What?"
"Victor Lang is my half brother."
Sarah's pen stopped moving.
Jasmine continued.
"He told me Aaron was desperate to get Northstar out of the company. He said if I got close to Aaron, I could help arrange a financing deal."
I felt physically ill.
"Did you deliberately pursue my husband?"
She sobbed.
"Yes."
The answer struck harder than I'd expected.
Not because Jasmine was suddenly solely responsible.
Aaron had made his own choices.
But because our marriage had become part of a business scheme.
"Did Aaron know Victor was your brother?"
"No."
I closed my eyes.
"Why are you telling me now?"
"Because Victor is going to blame everything on me."
"Did you authorize the forty-eight-million-dollar payment?"
"I signed the consulting agreement."
"Did you understand what it was for?"
"He told me it was a legal advisory arrangement."
"Did you receive the money?"
"Some of it went into my company's account, but Victor controlled the banking instructions."
Sarah wrote:
Do not promise immunity. Refer to counsel.
I nodded.
"Jasmine, you need your own attorney. You should preserve every message and document you have."
"I know."
"Don't delete anything."
"I won't."
She took a shaking breath.
"Claire, there's something worse."
My heart began pounding.
"What?"
"Victor doesn't just want Prescott Global."
I gripped the phone.
"What does he want?"
"He wants Northstar."
I stared at Sarah.
Jasmine continued.
"He told me your mother ruined his father's company twenty years ago."
My blood ran cold.
"His father?"
"Richard Lang."
I knew the name.
My mother had once invested in a manufacturing company run by Richard Lang.
The business later collapsed after accounting problems emerged.
I had been sixteen.
I remembered angry newspaper articles and my mother coming home looking exhausted.
Jasmine whispered, "Victor thinks your family stole everything from his."
Sarah leaned forward.
"Jasmine, how do you know this?"
"Because he told me. He said the entire Prescott Global deal was bait."
"Bait for what?"
"For Claire to reveal herself."
I stopped breathing.
Then the doorbell rang.
Sarah and I looked toward the hallway.
The house was silent.
The bell rang again.
Jasmine heard it through the phone.
Her voice suddenly sharpened.
"Claire?"
"What?"
"Did someone come to your house?"
I looked toward the front door.
"Yes."
Jasmine began speaking rapidly.
"Don't open it."
"Why?"
"Victor said if you wouldn't sign the documents voluntarily, he'd send someone to collect what he needed."
Sarah immediately motioned for me to move away from the entrance.
I called our security company on another phone.
The bell rang a third time.
Then a man's voice came through the intercom.
"Ms. Reed? I have a package from your husband."
I didn't answer.
The man waited.
Then he placed something on the doorstep and walked away.
Security arrived minutes later.
They inspected the package before bringing it inside.
It was a small cardboard box.
Inside lay my mother's mahogany case.
The lock had been broken.
The photographs were scattered.
The pearl necklace was missing.
And the sealed envelope had been opened.
May you like
Across the inside lid, someone had taped a single typed message.
Your mother destroyed my family. Now you get to watch yours fall apart.
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