Chapter 5 - Shadows of the Past
Robin was right.
Tabitha left Oakridge Estate at noon, escorted off the premises by Marcus Vance and the two officers. She surrendered the diamond ring, signed the non-disclosure agreement, and took only two suitcases containing her personal clothes.
But a woman driven by greed and public humiliation rarely surrenders quietly.
Three days later, subtle leaks began appearing on high-society gossip blogs and regional business forums.
“Tech Heiress Silenced by Wealthy Family?”
“Prominent Charitable Foundation Under Scrutiny for Staff Maltreatment.”
“The Dark Secrets Behind the Harrington Empire.”
The articles didn't name us directly—Tabitha was terrified of Marcus’s legal team—but the references were explicit enough for our social circle in Chicago and New York to take notice.
At the monthly board meeting of the Harrington Foundation, several long-time donors expressed quiet concern.
"Mrs. Harrington," murmured Lord Sterling, an old friend of my late husband. "These rumors... they are damaging our upcoming charity gala. People are asking if the foundation is being managed with proper oversight."
I sat at the head of the boardroom table, my hands resting calmly on the polished mahogany.
"Lord Sterling," I said, my voice steady and commanding. "The Harrington Foundation has operated with absolute transparency for twenty-five years. These rumors are the death throes of a disgraced individual who attempted to infiltrate my family for financial gain."
"Do you have proof of this infiltration, Eleanor?" another board member asked nervously.
I signaled to Marcus Vance, who was standing near the door.
Marcus opened his briefcase and pulled out a stack of bound folders, distributing one to each board member.
"Inside these folders," Marcus explained, "is the complete forensic financial audit of Tabitha Vane, alongside certified transcripts of her attempt to extort the Harrington family. Furthermore, we have uncovered that Ms. Vane was working in tandem with a third party."
The room went dead silent.
I leaned forward, looking around the table. "A third party who sits within our immediate network."
Robin stood up from his seat beside me, adjusting his tie. "Four months ago, someone passed Tabitha my father’s private financial ledger—a document that was kept in a locked safe in our downtown offices. A safe that only five people in this city have the combination to."
I watched the faces around the table carefully.
May you like
Most looked shocked and confused. But one man—Julian Croft, our Chief Investment Officer and my late husband's former cousin—slowly shifted in his leather chair, his hand nervously twitching against his water glass.
"Julian," I said softly, my eyes locking onto his. "Would you like to tell the board why your personal offshore account in the Cayman Islands received a wire transfer of fifty thousand dollars from a shell company registered to Tabitha Vane’s uncle three weeks ago?"
