Chapter 9: The Weight of What Was Taken
Marcus's report landed in Abby's inbox at eleven forty-seven that night.
She read it at the kitchen table while her father slept.
Thirty-eight vendor contracts across Julian's three properties.
Of those, twenty-two were overpriced — some by thirty percent, some by nearly double.
The pattern was consistent: inflated rates, no competitive bids on record, contracts renewed automatically without review.
Several vendors shared a registered business address in New Jersey.
Two of them listed the same phone number.
At the bottom of the report, Marcus had added a single line:
*Total estimated overcharge across active contracts: $1.4 million over six years.*
Abby set the tablet down on the table.
She picked up her cold tea.
Put it back down.
One point four million dollars.
Taken quietly, methodically, from a man who had been so focused on testing his employees for small thefts that he had never looked at the large one happening in the accounts he trusted most.
She thought about Victor.
Two thousand dollars.
Fired.
She thought about Rosa.
One hundred dollars.
Fired.
She thought about Carter Blaine, who had taken 1.4 million and walked away with an NDA and his reputation intact.
She called Marcus at midnight.
He picked up on the second ring.
"You were awake," she said.
"I've been awake since the elevator," he said.
"Did you read it?"
"Yes.
The New Jersey address — have you cross-referenced the registered owners?"
"One of them is a shell company.
The other traces back to a property management firm." He paused.
"The firm is co-owned by Carter Blaine's brother-in-law."
"So Carter didn't just inflate the contracts," Abby said.
"He created the vendors."
"Or helped create them.
Yes."
"That's not an NDA situation," she said.
"That's fraud."
"Yes," Marcus said.
"It is."
"Does Julian know yet?"
"No.
I wanted to bring it to you first." A pause.
"I'm not sure why.
You've been here four days."
"Because you needed someone who wasn't already inside the situation to see it clearly," Abby said.
"Maybe." He exhaled.
"How do we tell him?"
Abby looked at the report on the table.
At the number at the bottom.
At the name of Carter Blaine's brother-in-law printed in Marcus's careful font.
"We don't soften it," she said.
"We show him everything.
All of it.
Tonight if he's available."
"He'll be angry."
"He should be angry," Abby said.
"But not at us."
A silence.
"Abby," Marcus said.
"Carter still has friends in the building.
People who worked with him.
People who might warn him if they hear something is happening."
Abby's hand tightened on the phone.
"Who?"
"I don't know yet.
But if Carter finds out we're looking before Julian can act—"
"He'll move the money," she said.
"Or destroy the paper trail."
"Yes."
She stood up from the table.
"Call Julian.
Right now.
Tell him it's urgent and it can't wait until morning."
"He won't like being called at midnight."
"No," Abby said.
"But he'll like finding out tomorrow even less."
Marcus was quiet for a moment.
Then: "All right."
"And Marcus — don't put anything else in writing until we're in the room with him.
Nothing by email.
Nothing by text."
"Understood."
She ended the call.
She stood in the quiet kitchen and looked at the tablet on the table.
The number.
The name.
The address in New Jersey that had been quietly draining money from a man who had spent eight years believing the real danger was a desperate employee and a stack of cash on a dresser.
She thought about Pearl.
*What would you do, Mom?*
The kitchen gave no answer.
May you like
But Abby already knew.
She picked up her coat.
