Chapter 7 - Harbor Point
Harbor Point was supposed to have been the company's most ambitious hotel development.
My grandmother had announced it three years earlier.
The project promised new jobs, public waterfront access, and a convention center that could revive a struggling neighborhood.
Then construction stalled.
Dad blamed zoning delays, rising materials costs, and uncooperative partners.
I had reviewed contracts but never controlled the treasury.
Nina obtained the documents through a formal board request.
The invoices told a different story.
Millions had moved through consulting agreements, some of which appeared to have no meaningful deliverables.
One vendor had the same registered agent as Bali Vista Holdings.
That didn't prove fraud.
It did demand answers.
Gregory agreed to meet us at a quiet café across town.
He arrived twenty minutes late wearing dark sunglasses.
"Your father told me this was temporary," he said.
"What was temporary?" Nina asked.
"Moving cash between the entities to cover a financing gap."
He unfolded a paper receipt with shaking hands.
"Then the money never came back."
I looked at him.
"Did you approve the transfers?"
He nodded miserably.
"Some of them."
"Then you need your own attorney," Nina said.
"And we can't promise you immunity."
Gregory stared into his coffee.
"I'm not asking for immunity."
He told us my father was meeting with a private investor named Adrian Cole.
Cole had offered emergency financing, but in exchange he wanted control over the company and a discount on the Harbor Point site.
My father needed the deal quickly.
"Why?" I asked.
Gregory's expression crumpled.
"Because a lender is about to call a loan."
Then he placed another paper on the table.
It was a payment request bearing my digital signature.
I had never authorized it.
The amount was three hundred eighty thousand dollars.
The destination account belonged to a consulting company I had never heard of.
I stared at the approval line.
Someone had used my credentials to make it appear I had directed the money myself.
"When did this happen?" I asked.
Gregory answered softly.
May you like
"The morning of your wedding."
