The Hidden Ledger and the Reckoning of the Hart Family Foundation
“Why?” I asked. “Do I need your permission to visit my family home?”
“Of course not,” he said, reaching out to touch my arm.
I stepped back, avoiding his hand.
His expression hardened, just for a fraction of a second, before he forced a smile.
“Rachel said you were acting strange today,” Graham said. “She said you were asking questions about the foundation’s early audits.”
“Rachel is managing my mother’s estate,” I replied. “We have a lot of legal details to discuss.”
“We have things to discuss too,” he said. “The foundation is in trouble, Claire. I need your support.”
“Trouble?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Just administrative issues,” he said. “Vance Harrison is helping us restructure. It is for the best, I promise you.”
I looked at his manicured hands, the expensive watch I had bought him for our last anniversary.
Every word out of his mouth was a lie, and the realization felt like a physical blow.
“I’m tired, Graham,” I said, moving past him toward the door. “I’m going to a hotel in town.”