Chapter 8 - THE HOUSE CAMERA
I went home with police.
Not because I was afraid of Julian.
Because my house had become evidence.
The office door still looked normal.
That bothered me.
No broken lock.
No scratches.
Just betrayal with good hinges.
Our security company restored deleted footage.
Julian had disabled one camera.
He missed another.
Exterior reflection from the pool glass caught Camilla entering through the side door.
11:43 p.m.
Julian let her in.
They were inside forty-seven minutes.
At 12:21 a.m., Camilla walked out carrying my black binder.
At 12:22, Julian kissed her beside my hydrangeas.
That was the part that made the detective look away.
Not the theft.
The kiss.
Small humiliations are easier to understand than financial crimes.
Then the camera caught Julian doing something else.
He went back inside.
Returned with a paper grocery bag.
Placed it in Camilla’s trunk.
Police later searched the condo.
Inside a locked closet, they found the bag.
My jewelry.
Not all of it.
Enough.
Receipts from resale.
Cash.
And one small velvet box.
My mother’s wedding ring.
I sat down on the condo floor.
I did not cry.
At first.
Then one tear hit my hand and suddenly I was furious at the tear.
Ridiculous.
The detective handed me a tissue.
I laughed.
Bad timing.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I know.”
I apologized anyway.
Then they found the black binder.
Missing pages.
Someone had removed the Northstar valuation letter.
And my mother’s handwritten note.
Audrey,
Never let someone make your competence feel unfeminine.
I had kept that note for twelve years.
It was gone.
I looked at Camilla’s closet.
Designer clothes.
My earrings.
My mother’s ring.
All that effort to wear pieces of my life.
Rebecca called.
“We have a problem.”
“What now?”
“The personal guarantee.”
A lender had declared default.
They wanted payment.
Twenty-five million.
The forged guarantee was being enforced.
Even if we eventually defeated it, they could freeze assets now.
Northstar’s voting stake might become entangled in litigation.
Then another call.
Malcolm.
His voice shook.
“James Porter just called a special board session.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“For what?”
“To remove you from voting pending the guarantee dispute.”
I stood in Camilla’s stolen condo holding my mother’s ring.
Julian had found a way to turn forgery into a board coup.
May you like
Again.
