Questions.
Why had certain invoices been duplicated? Why had money moved through accounts not disclosed during his review? Why did Marcus recognize records he claimed were meaningless? Why had liabilities been shifted before the ten-million-dollar transaction?
Marcus denied everything.
Then contradicted himself.
My father interrupted him.
Then contradicted Marcus.
My mother tried to insist it was all a misunderstanding.
Within twenty minutes, the united family that had sold me for financial survival had turned on itself.
Marcus accused my father of approving every transaction.
My father shouted that Marcus had created the investment losses that forced them into desperation.
My mother demanded they both stop talking.
I remained seated.
Adrian remained Alden Vale.
And the folder stayed open.
Finally my father pointed at me.
“You did this.”
“No,” I said.
“I kept records of what you did.”
“You’re destroying your own family.”
I looked around the table where they had negotiated my marriage as if I were another pledged asset.
“You made that choice before I opened the folder.”
Adrian then removed one more document from his case.
My father read the first page.
His anger disappeared.
The agreement he had signed gave Adrian substantial rights against assets pledged to secure the money if the financial representations behind the transaction proved materially false.
My records did not create that problem.
They proved it existed.
“You set us up,” my father whispered.
Adrian looked at him through the old mask.
“You lied to obtain ten million dollars.”
Marcus stared at the contract.
“Who are you?”
Adrian was silent for several seconds.
Then he stood.
He straightened his back.
My mother’s eyes widened.
The frail posture vanished first.
Then Adrian reached toward his jaw.
My father stared as the old face lifted away.
Marcus stopped moving entirely.
The young man beneath the disguise placed the mask on the table.
“My name is Adrian Cross.”
My father’s face drained of color.
He knew the name.
Marcus knew it too.
Adrian did not need to explain his parents.
The recognition in their faces was confession enough for me.
My father whispered, “That’s impossible.”
“No,” Adrian replied.
“What was impossible was proving exactly how you destroyed them after you erased the records.”
He looked toward my folder.
“Until now.”
Marcus turned on me with pure panic.
“You gave him those?”
“I gave the truth to someone willing to look at it.”
My mother began crying.
