Part 3

Naomi arrived at Harbor Street before sunset with a portable scanner and two cups of tea. She photographed each folder where I found it, logged the box numbers, and told me not to rearrange anything until the forensic accountant could create an inventory.

“The divorce is final,” I said. “Can Graham still take this building?”

“Not with a draft deed,” she replied. “But if he recorded something we have not found, or if a lender believes he had authority, we need to act quickly.”

The warehouse had been transferred to me free of company debt under the signed settlement. Graham’s draft was dated four days before mediation. It described Harbor Street as a contribution to Lake Briar Holdings for one dollar. My typed name appeared below a blank signature line.

Naomi called the county recorder. No transfer had been filed. That was the first good fact of the day.

The second came from Miguel Santos, the forensic accountant. He joined by video and asked us to read invoice numbers aloud. Eleven Lake Briar renovation bills had been paid from client deposits at Dalton House. The payments totaled $612,400.

Client deposits were supposed to remain available for events. The company could use portions for legitimate preparation, but it could not quietly renovate a private lake house and then pretend the money belonged to the operating account.

“How many upcoming events?” Miguel asked.

I still knew the calendar from memory. Thirty-eight weddings, nine charity dinners, and two graduation ceremonies were scheduled in the next six months.

If those deposits were gone, families could lose both their events and their money.

Sophie called again while Naomi was scanning. She had spoken to the lender’s fraud department. The bank froze the pending loan review and asked her to submit a sworn statement. Graham had sent her seven messages telling her she was overreacting.

Then he sent one saying the stress was dangerous for the baby.

Sophie read it aloud and said, “He always does that. He makes the thing he wants sound like medical advice.”

Naomi recommended that she preserve every message and communicate only in writing. Sophie’s own lawyer, Aisha Brooks, would meet her the next morning.

I asked Sophie whether Graham had mentioned Harbor Street.

“He said it was where you hid money from the company,” she answered. “He said you demanded it because you knew there was cash inside.”

I looked at the leaking roof.

There was no cash. There was something more dangerous: a paper trail he thought nobody valued.

Miguel requested emergency access to the company’s accounting platform under my audit clause. Naomi sent formal preservation notices to Graham, Evelyn, Dalton House, and Lake Briar Holdings. The notices required them to retain messages, loan files, invoices, and client records.

At 7:42, Graham finally called me.

“You got what you wanted,” he said. “The divorce is over. Stop turning Sophie against me.”

“I did not sign the Harbor Street deed.”

The line went quiet.

“What deed?” he asked too quickly.

I ended the call and saved the recording notification from my phone system. Two minutes later, the warehouse lights went out.

The storm had not touched the buildings across the street.

Someone had shut off power only to Harbor Street.