Chapter 3
Everett Sloan had not moved far.
He lived in a modest house thirty miles outside Chicago and had spent the three weeks since his departure looking for work.
Claire contacted him through counsel.
He refused to come to the Bellacorte estate.
Vincent respected the decision.
They met instead at Claire’s office.
Everett entered carrying a cardboard archive box.
He looked at Vincent once.
Then at the notebook inside the evidence sleeve.
His face changed.
“You found it.”
Claire spoke first.
“It’s yours?”
“Yes.”
Grant’s denial had just become more interesting.
Everett sat.
“I thought he destroyed it.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“Grant?”
Everett nodded.
The notebook had begun as a backup.
Fourteen months earlier, Everett noticed that shipment-loss reports were changing after he reconciled them.
A container would arrive short.
He would enter the discrepancy.
Two days later the system reflected a larger loss.
Another shipment would be classified as damaged even though receiving photographs showed intact cargo.
Inventory would disappear from one lot code and reappear weeks later under another.
Everett started writing things down.
“Why paper?”
“Because digital records kept changing.”
“Did you report it?”
“To Grant.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“What happened?”
“He told me the division was under pressure and I was creating noise.”
“Did you come to me?”
“I tried.”
That answer hurt.
“How?”
“Through executive reporting.”
Vincent looked at Claire.
Everett continued.
“I submitted three exception summaries for chairman review.”
“I never saw them.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because Grant sent them back to me marked resolved.”
Vincent became still.
Grant had controlled the Midwest division and was authorized to clear operational exceptions before they reached Vincent.
Another system built for efficiency.
Another place where one relative stood between information and the person supposedly responsible.
Everett opened his archive box.
Printed emails.
Old inventory screenshots.
Photographs.
Receiving reports.
“I kept copies after I realized the records were being overwritten.”
Claire asked about his departure.
Everett laughed without humor.
“Grant called me into his office.”
“He fired you?”
“Not exactly.”
Grant accused him of improperly retaining confidential records.
He offered a severance package if Everett resigned and surrendered everything.
Everett handed over his company laptop and a leather portfolio.
The notebook had been inside.
“I realized on the drive home.”
“Why didn’t you go back?”
Everett stared at Vincent.
“Because Grant had just told me nobody above him wanted to hear another word about the losses.”
Vincent said nothing.
Everett continued.
“He said the company had already decided to sell the division.”
That was false.
Vincent had resisted the sale for months.
“Did he say I approved it?”
“Yes.”
Vincent looked at Claire.
There it was again.
Grant was not merely managing information.
He was speaking with Vincent’s authority when Vincent had never spoken.
Everett pointed toward the notebook.
“If Grant had that at the party, he was probably trying to get rid of it.”
“Why bring it to an engagement celebration?”
Everett shrugged.
“Maybe because nobody audits a pool cabana.”
Claire almost smiled.
May you like
Vincent did not.
The joke was too close to the truth.
