My stomach dropped.
He pulled out an email, printed, highlighted.
From: Derek Pierce
To: Martin Blackwell, CEO Stratton Advisory
Subject: Morrison client list + Q1 financials
Date: April 14, 2024
Files attached. Remaining data available upon acquisition confirmation. Wire $500,000 to Cascade Holdings account per our agreement.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Derek sold your client list,” David said. “And your financials. To your competitor. For five hundred thousand.”
George leaned forward, face dark. “I knew something was wrong. I just couldn’t prove it.”
David laid out more files.
“Tech Corp Solutions. Derek leaked confidential strategy to their competitor. You lost a two-million annual contract.”
“Midwest Manufacturing. Derek deliberately missed deadlines. One point five million in revenue.”
“Harbor Investments. Derek gave them bad advice. Cost them five million in losses. They sued. You settled for one point two million.”
He looked at me.
“Total damage: six point five million in lost revenue.”
I felt like I’d been punched.
“He wasn’t just stealing from you,” David said. “He was destroying the company from the inside so it would be easier to sell.”
“He poisoned my company,” I whispered.
“Folder three,” David said, tapping the black one. “Dr. James Caldwell.”
He opened it.
“He’s done this before. Three times.”
Case summaries spread across my desk.
Margaret Hastings, 2018. Seventy-eight years old. Ten-million estate. Caldwell fabricated a dementia diagnosis. Her nephew got power of attorney, transferred everything. She was placed in assisted living, died a year later. Caldwell received forty thousand.
Howard Bennett, 2020. Eighty-two. Eight-million estate. Caldwell fabricated cognitive decline. Daughter took control. Sold his business for three million—worth eight. Bennett passed away in 2021. Caldwell got fifty thousand.
Patricia Donovan, 2022. Seventy-four. Fifteen million. Caldwell tried the same thing, but Patricia’s granddaughter is a lawyer. She fought back, exposed the fraud. Case was settled, records sealed. Caldwell still walked away with seventy-five thousand.
Sarah spoke, voice tight. “Two medical board complaints. Both dismissed. Lack of evidence.”
I looked at David. “Patricia Donovan… she’s alive.”
“Yes,” he said. “And she’s willing to testify.”
I closed the folder. My hands were shaking.
Three elderly people stripped of everything. Two of them gone.
I was going to be number four.
I stood and walked to the window. Outside, the oak tree swayed in the June breeze.
Forty-seven million.
A mob debt.
Corporate sabotage.
A doctor who’d been stealing from the elderly for years.
And my daughter was in the middle of it.
I turned back.
“I need all of this ready for tomorrow night,” I said. “Can you do that?”
David nodded. “Already done.”
Then he looked at me, steady and blunt.
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