“From the corporate hotel acquisition fund,” Jonathan muttered, his eyes scanning the page.

“Yes,” Benjamin said. “But look where they go next.”

He flipped the page, pointing to a different account name at the top of the sheet.

“The Sterling Foundation,” I read aloud, my voice tightening. “That is Rebecca’s family charity.”

“Exactly,” Benjamin said. “The public charity that Rebecca runs to fund art therapy programs in underprivileged schools.”

Jonathan leaned both hands on the table, his knuckles turning white.

“The charity is a pass-through,” Jonathan said, his voice dangerously low.

“It is more than that,” Benjamin said. “The money does not stay in the foundation for more than forty-eight hours.”

He flipped to a third page, which showed a series of wire transfers to various political action committees and private consulting firms.

“Harrison is using Rebecca’s charity to finance political operations,” Benjamin said.

I looked at the dates on the page, my mind racing.

“These dates match the state senate hearings on the waterfront rezoning project,” I said.

“They do,” Benjamin said. “Harrison paid off three key committee members through these consulting firms.”