The Hidden Account Forced Dorian To Put His Money Back

The other account belonged to a sales business Dorian had opened in his own name.

Ellis found it through payment links in the copied invoices. Four customers had been directed to pay there, even though the invoices carried Creekstep's name and the shipments came from our nursery.

Those payments totaled $7,240. They were part of the $18,600 in suspect shipments, not extra sales. Ellis marked that clearly so nobody counted the same loss twice.

"He called them commissions," Ellis told us during a meeting at Celia's office.

"What did the sales agreement allow?" she asked.

"Member draws approved by both members. No separate commission."

I remembered Dorian telling me our customers were slow to pay.

"I bought grain from my savings that month," I said.

Ellis added the bank transfer and the diverted payments on his pad.

"That's $16,740 we can trace directly to him. There may be other disputed costs, but this amount is clear."

The prepaid storage company returned $4,200 after Ellis canceled the unused space. The missing $600 covered its stated fee and the days already used.

The final lab report came that week. More suspect lots failed growth checks. None of Dorian's cabinet stock could be accepted as my original collection because there was no reliable source record connecting it to the bank.

The held stock was destroyed under a written disposal plan. Gail witnessed the process and signed the count. We kept samples only where the lawyers and lab required them for the case.

No customer was asked to gamble a harvest on a clean-looking bag.

Meanwhile, I built my new workspace slowly. I paid $1,100 a month in rent. A used clean-air hood cost $3,200. An electrician charged $2,850 to prepare the sterilizer connections and check the load.

I put each receipt in a new binder.

Alma came one Saturday with sandwiches and a label maker.

"Do you ever arrive empty-handed?" I asked.

"At other people's bad parties."

We ate on overturned buckets. Then she labeled the first clean shelf.

FARZAN CULTURE WORKS.

"I haven't chosen a sign."

"It's a removable label. I'm not Dorian."

I laughed with my mouth full.

The name stayed.

Before I could take orders, I needed the company dispute settled. Creekstep still owed customers money, and I was still one of its owners. I would not leave the old bills behind and call a fresh sign a clean start.

Ellis reviewed each claim with invoices, photos, and whatever other records growers had. The accepted customer claims totaled $24,860, including purchase refunds and supported crop losses. Ridge Table's claim was the separate $18,000 deposit.

Ellis called growers when a number needed explaining. One claim dropped after a grower found that part of his crop had used older, sound spawn. Another rose when a feed-store receipt turned up. I hated waiting, but those checks made the final figures something everyone could trust.

The company also had ordinary bills. Its remaining equipment, grain, racks, van, cash, and collected old invoices would not cover everything.

Celia sent Dorian a proposed settlement backed by the account review and the documents already filed.

He refused the first version.

"He wants you to pay half the customer claims personally," she told me.

"What does Ellis say about the numbers?"

"That Dorian diverted company income and created the suspect batches after you stopped production."

"Then send that again."

There was another meeting, this one with a mediator. I brought a thermos and waited in a room with a landscape print hung slightly crooked.

The mediator asked what mattered most to me.

"Customers get paid. My name comes off those false releases. He loses the right to sell under my codes."

"And money for you?"

"The costs I can document. I don't need to price every night I didn't sleep."

By late afternoon, Dorian's lawyer had asked to see the bank thread again.

At six, a revised offer arrived. Dorian would restore the traced $16,740 and contribute another $22,000. He would leave Creekstep's management, surrender his interest for the wind-down, and sign a correction to customers and Ridge Table.

No claim that I had been his employee. No right to my equipment, bank deposits, culture codes, or future work.

The money would enter an account controlled by Ellis before my release of claims took effect. The amounts owed to customers, Ridge Table, and other creditors would be reserved first.

I read every line.

Then I tapped the settlement twice with one finger.

"Add the cabinet certificate to the correction," I said. "Say I didn't authorize it."

At seven fourteen, Celia's phone chimed.

She read the message, turned the screen toward me, and said, "He signed. Now we wait for the funds."