Chapter 7
The atmosphere in the grand dining room shifted from tense family drama to an open tribunal. The roasted turkey sitting in the center of the table grew cold, ignored by everyone as the digital age collided with old-money corruption. Walter set the stack of papers down beside his wineglass, smoothing the edges with a tired, heavy sigh that seemed to age him ten years in a single moment. "You know what the worst part of all this is, Richard?" Walter asked softly, his voice lacking anger now, replaced by a quiet, devastating disappointment. "It's not even the money. Seventy thousand dollars is a rounding error in our family accounts. You could have asked me for fifty times that amount to cover your margin calls, and I would have given it to you, provided you were honest about your failures." Richard looked up, a glimmer of false hope flashing in his eyes. "You would have?" "Yes," Walter nodded slowly. "Because family helps family through hard times. But you didn't ask. You lied, you schemed, you forged a sublease agreement, and you preyed upon your own daughter while she was vulnerable. You proved that you have no honor, no integrity, and no moral compass." Elaine burst into loud, theatrical tears, burying her face in a linen napkin. "We worked so hard!" she sobbed. "We sacrificed everything for this family! And now you're treating us like criminals over a stupid accounting dispute!" "It's not a dispute, Elaine," Emma said, standing up from her chair for the first time. The burgundy dress fell in perfect lines around her frame, and she looked every bit the master of the room. She reached down and picked up the remaining documents from the tan envelope, holding them out toward her grandfather. "It's a pattern of systemic financial abuse." Walter took the second stack of papers, his expression hardening once more into unyielding granite. "What is this second batch?" Walter asked, looking up at his granddaughter.
