Chapter 12 - THE COUNTERATTACK
Alistair struck first on Monday morning.
At 8:04, an article appeared on a local business blog.
The headline read: FINCH DYNAMICS FINANCING DELAYED AMID FOUNDER'S DIVORCE.
The article cited unnamed sources.
It said a domestic dispute had spilled into company affairs.
It said questions had arisen about a guarantee from the founder's wife.
Then came the sentence designed to poison everything.
One source alleged Jacqueline Ross had previously provided informal legal and strategic services to Finch Dynamics through affiliated consulting arrangements.
I read it once.
Then I forwarded it to Helen and Lena.
At 8:11, the article was sent anonymously to three of my clients.
At 8:19, Helen received a reporter's request for comment.
At 8:23, Robert Hale called his attorney.
At 8:31, Alistair texted me.
This is what happens when private matters become public.
I stared at the message.
He wanted me to believe the chaos was a natural consequence of my choices.
It was not.
Someone had fed the story.
Someone had included the consulting allegation.
Someone knew about CR Advisory.
"Do not respond personally," Helen said.
"I won't."
Our firm issued a short statement.
Crawford Ross Legal Group had never represented Finch Dynamics and had not authorized any affiliated consulting entity to act on its behalf.
The firm was reviewing apparent misuse of its name and would not comment on private litigation.
Nothing more.
No outrage.
No accusation.
No spectacle.
By ten, Finch Dynamics issued its own statement.
It said the company was reviewing historical vendor relationships and had no evidence of material wrongdoing.
It said the financing delay resulted from a personal dispute unrelated to operations.
Nolan called Samuel in disbelief.
"No evidence?"
Samuel told him to stop talking and let counsel handle it.
At eleven, Victor filed papers accusing me of violating the spirit of the temporary order by interfering with financing.
Lena responded with documentation showing the lead investor had postponed closing after its own verification concerns.
She attached no sensational evidence.
She did not need to.
The forged-looking guarantee existed.
The reserve transfers existed.
The dispute existed.
By noon, the judge scheduled a status conference.
Victor had wanted pressure.
He had created scrutiny.
At one, my office receptionist called.
"Jacqueline, there is a woman here asking for you."
"Name?"
"She says her name is Cheryl Madsen."
The notary.
I stood immediately.
"Do not send her up."
I called Lena.
Within twenty minutes, Cheryl was sitting in a conference room with her attorney, Lena, and me.
She looked frightened.
"I didn't notarize your power of attorney," she said before anyone asked a question.
Lena held up a hand.
"Your attorney should guide you."
Her lawyer nodded.
"She may explain what she knows."
Cheryl took a breath.
"I did work for George Finch years ago."
"What kind of work?" Lena asked.
"Loan signings."
"How often?"
"Maybe fifteen or twenty times."
"Did he have access to an image of your old stamp?"
Cheryl's face tightened.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I emailed scanned notarized documents to him."
That was not unusual by itself.
It did mean he possessed images containing her stamp and signature.
"Did you ever authorize him to reuse your stamp image?"
"Absolutely not."
"Did you notarize a power of attorney for Jacqueline Ross?"
"No."
"How can you be certain?"
Cheryl looked at me.
"Because I never met you."
That was stronger than a missing journal entry.
"Could you have notarized a signature without meeting me?" I asked.
"Not lawfully."
"Did anyone ever ask you to?"
Her eyes filled with embarrassment.
"George once asked whether I could notarize something his son had already signed because everyone was busy."
"What did you say?"
"No."
"When?"
"About two and a half years ago."
"Did he say whose signature it was?"
"No."
Lena made a note.
Then Cheryl opened her bag.
Her attorney stopped her until the purpose was clear.
She produced an old phone.
"I kept this because I use it for business records."
She had a text exchange with George.
The date was two years earlier.
George had sent her a photograph of a signature page.
His message said:
Can you stamp this if I confirm she signed it?
Cheryl replied:
No. Signer must appear or use a lawful remote process that meets requirements.
George answered:
Understood.
That was all.
The photograph attached to George's text was partially visible.
The top of the page showed two words.
POWER OF.
My pulse hammered.
"Do you still have the original image?" Lena asked.
"Yes."
The metadata date matched the month of the disputed power of attorney.
The page in the photograph looked substantially similar.
Again, not final proof.
But the wall around the document was beginning to crack.
At three, Victor called Lena.
His tone had changed.
He wanted mediation immediately.
"What is he offering?" I asked after the call.
"You keep the marital home."
"No."
"You receive a cash payment."
"How much?"
"Two point five million."
I stared at her.
That was significantly more than George had offered at my door.
"What do they want?"
"Confidential settlement."
"What else?"
"Mutual release."
"What else?"
"You disclaim any interest in Finch Dynamics."
"Expected."
"And you agree not to challenge historical company transactions involving entities controlled by the Finch family."
There it was.
"No."
"I assumed."
"What about the fake consulting contracts?"
"The draft release is broad enough to cover them."
"No."
"What about the power of attorney?"
"Also covered."
"No."
Lena nodded.
"Then we keep going."
At four thirty, the business blog updated its article.
A new anonymous source claimed I had received compensation connected to Finch Dynamics and was now denying involvement.
The source cited the two-thousand-dollar CR Advisory payment.
Whoever leaked the story knew details from the fake paper trail.
That was dangerous.
It was also useful.
The payment was now public enough that my firm could respond directly.
Helen authorized a forensic accounting review.
The review found the two-thousand-dollar payment had arrived without invoice, engagement letter, or service record.
It had been automatically applied to a reimbursement ledger because the description referenced my name and an expense category.
The firm had not solicited it.
The accounting team also found an attempted second payment from CR Advisory for twenty-five thousand dollars six months later.
The bank had rejected it because the account information was incomplete.
No one at the firm had noticed.
"They were trying to seed a history," Helen said.
"Small first."
"Then larger."
"Enough to point to later."
"Exactly."
At six, Gavin called with news about CR Advisory's virtual office.
The account had been opened by someone using a copy of my driver's license.
He did not have the bank records.
He had found a civil filing from the virtual office provider after an unrelated billing dispute.
The attached onboarding summary listed Jacqueline Ross as contact and included a phone number.
The number was not mine.
It belonged to a prepaid mobile account.
Gavin traced the public registration history associated with the number.
The recovery email used when the number was activated contained a familiar surname.
finchfamilyoffice.
"Whose account?" I asked.
"The email itself doesn't identify a person."
"So we don't know."
"Correct."
"But we know the phrase."
"Yes."
Then he sent me one more document.
The virtual office had scanned incoming mail for CR Advisory.
One envelope came from North Star Intelligence.
The private investigation firm that had followed me.
The recipient line read:
J. ROSS / EXIT PLAN.
I stared at it until my eyes hurt.
Then my phone lit up with a message from Alistair.
Last chance.
Take the settlement.
I did not answer.
A second message arrived.
If you force this into court, your name goes down with mine.
May you like
For the first time, he had stopped pretending there was nothing to uncover.
