“Every major donation over fifty thousand dollars had a percentage shaved off.”

“It went straight into Caldwell Development.”

“Is that Helen’s company?” Dina asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s the private holding firm she uses for her real estate ventures.”

I scrolled down the list, watching the numbers climb.

Two hundred thousand in March.

Four hundred and fifty thousand in June.

“The dates,” I murmured, staring at the screen.

“What about them?” Dina asked.

“These transfers match the exact dates of the Caldwell family’s public debts.”

“When Helen’s luxury retail development in the north district failed.”

“And when they defaulted on the Oakridge estate taxes.”

“She was bailing herself out,” I realized aloud. “Using our donors’ money.”

“And Grant was facilitating it from the inside,” Dina added.

“He signed off on every single one of these transfers,” I said, tracking his digital signature.

“He had to have known what he was doing.”

“Of course he did,” Dina said. “He wanted to be a Caldwell so badly.”

“He was willing to ruin your father’s legacy to buy his way into their circle.”