Chapter 9: Garrett Moss Makes His Move
I called Garrett Moss back on a Wednesday morning, from Sylvia's office, with the call on speaker and a recorder running.
He answered after two rings.
"Ms.
Vance." His voice was exactly as it had been on the voicemail — calm, almost friendly.
The voice of a man who was used to being the most prepared person in any conversation.
"I'm glad you called."
"You said we should talk," I said.
"Talk."
"I think we're both reasonable people," he said.
"And I think we both understand that what happened with the Hargrove request was an unfortunate miscommunication."
"A miscommunication."
"The request was withdrawn.
No funds moved.
No harm done." A pause.
"I'd like to suggest that pursuing this further would create more problems than it solves — for everyone involved."
"What problems would it create for me?"
"The Fenn records." He said it without hesitation.
"If this goes to litigation, those records become discoverable.
The Vance family trust's history becomes public.
Thomas Fenn gets everything he's been looking for." Another pause.
"I'm offering you a cleaner path."
"Which is?"
"You walk away from the Hargrove matter.
I walk away from the Fenn records.
Everyone moves forward."
Sylvia was watching me from across the desk.
She didn't move.
"You're threatening me," I said.
"I'm offering you a choice." His voice stayed pleasant.
"I've been in this business a long time.
I know how these situations resolve.
The family that fights publicly loses more than the family that settles quietly."
"And Victoria?" I said.
"What does she get in your version of this?"
A brief pause.
The first one that felt unplanned.
"Victoria made her own decisions," he said.
"I can't speak for her."
"She told me you used her."
"She told you what she needed to tell you." His voice cooled slightly.
"Victoria Vance is a grown woman who understood exactly what she was doing.
The LLC was registered in her name.
The account was hers.
I was a consultant."
"A consultant who submitted the fraudulent request from a shared workspace where you have a registered mailbox."
Silence.
Sylvia wrote one word on her notepad and turned it toward me: *Good.*
"Mr.
Moss," I said.
"I want to be very clear with you.
The Fenn records are not your leverage.
I've already been to the storage facility.
I've already read the documents.
And I've already made the decision to contact Thomas Fenn directly and initiate a proper settlement process."
Nothing from the other end of the line.
"That decision was made before you called me," I continued.
"It has nothing to do with you.
It's the right thing to do and I'm going to do it regardless of what you threaten or offer."
"You're making a mistake—"
"What I'm also going to do," I said, "is provide the transaction log, the IP records, your mailbox registration at the shared workspace, and the beneficial ownership filing for Bluewater Property Consulting to the U.S.
Attorney's office." I paused.
"Wire fraud is a federal matter, Mr.
Moss.
Sylvia Crane, who is sitting across from me right now, has already drafted the referral."
A long silence.
"You'll destroy Victoria in the process," he said.
His voice had changed.
The pleasantness was gone.
"Victoria destroyed herself," I said.
"But she told me the truth when she didn't have to.
You called me and threatened me.
Those are different things."
"What does that mean?"
"It means Sylvia's referral focuses primarily on the individual who submitted the request, constructed the shell company, and attempted to use confidential trust information obtained through unauthorized access." I let that land.
"That's you, Mr.
Moss.
Not Victoria."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"You can't just—"
"I can," I said.
"And I have.
The referral was submitted this morning."
The line went quiet.
Then: "I want to speak to my attorney."
"That's a good idea," I said.
"I'd do that immediately."
I ended the call.
Sylvia leaned back in her chair.
"The referral was submitted this morning?"
"It was submitted forty minutes before I called him," I said.
She looked at me for a moment.
Then she picked up her pen and made a note.
"He'll try to negotiate," she said.
"His attorney will call within twenty-four hours."
"Let them call," I said.
"We have the records.
We have the IP trace.
We have the voicemail he left me." I picked up my bag.
"He called me to make me feel like I was the one about to make a mistake.
I want him to spend the next twenty-four hours understanding what an actual mistake feels like."
Sylvia allowed herself a small smile.
"What about Victoria?" she asked.
I stood at the door for a moment.
"She cooperated," I said.
"She told me the truth about the Fenn records when she could have stayed quiet and let me walk into it blind.
That matters." I paused.
"It doesn't erase what she did.
But it matters."
"So what happens to her?"
May you like
"That," I said, "is partly Daniel's decision."
And partly mine.
