Chapter 4 - PAUL HARRINGTON
Paul Harrington lived in Lake Forest.
The millionaire I believed Lucy had been sleeping with.
The man I spent three years hating.
He opened his door, saw me, and almost closed it again.
“Paul.”
“No.”
“I need ten minutes.”
He laughed.
“Interesting.”
I deserved that.
“Please.”
He stared.
Then let me in.
His wife, Diane, sat in the living room.
That surprised me.
Apparently the secret affair was so convincing even the alleged mistress’s lover’s wife had survived it.
Paul remained standing.
“You threw Lucy out.”
“Yes.”
“You accused me of sleeping with her.”
“Yes.”
“You canceled our supplier agreement and nearly destroyed my company.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“I think I was wrong.”
Paul’s face hardened.
“You were.”
No hesitation.
He brought out a folder.
He had preserved everything.
Emails.
Hotel booking.
Lobby receipt.
Texts from Lucy.
The hotel meeting was about duplicate vendor payments.
Lucy had asked Paul to meet somewhere away from my company because she suspected an insider.
“Why didn’t she tell me first?”
“She tried.”
He looked at me.
“You had started putting Maya into finance meetings.”
I remembered.
My sister wanted “business experience.”
Lucy became suspicious because Maya repeatedly asked for vendor-access permissions.
Paul continued.
“The fake affair photos were sent to my wife too.”
I stared at Diane.
She nodded.
“I asked my husband.”
That simple sentence humiliated me.
“What?”
“I asked him.”
She looked almost puzzled.
“He showed me the messages. We looked at the hotel footage. Then we called Lucy.”
I sat down.
“You checked.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
Paul’s anger softened slightly.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head.
“You keep saying that to the wrong people.”
Fair.
Then Paul told me the part Arthur discovered later.
Derek Cole—the IT administrator—had been working with Maya.
But Derek was not the architect.
He was paid.
The scheme started earlier.
With my former CFO.
Uncle Raymond Vance.
My father’s younger brother.
Raymond retired two years before the divorce.
He had taught Maya how vendor reimbursements worked.
Then he used her as a proxy because family members drew less suspicion.
“Raymond?”
Paul nodded.
“Your father discovered him.”
My stomach tightened.
Dad and Raymond had stopped speaking about a year before Arthur’s stroke.
I assumed old age.
Family disagreement.
No.
Arthur had discovered his brother had siphoned money from the business for years.
Maya joined later.
The fraud was bigger than $2.7 million.
Much bigger.
Paul estimated:
“At least twelve million.”
I stood.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Paul’s expression hardened again.
“Stop asking that.”
The words hit.
“What?”
“People told you.”
Silence.
“Lucy told you.”
“Yes.”
“Your father told you.”
“Yes.”
“I emailed you.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t have an information problem, Alexander.”
He looked directly at me.
“You had an arrogance problem.”
I could not defend myself.
So I didn’t.
Paul handed me a drive.
“These are my records.”
“Why help me?”
“I’m not.”
He looked toward Diane.
“I’m helping Lucy.”
That hurt.
Good.
Some pain is informative.
Then Diane asked:
“Where is she?”
“With Dad.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“That woman.”
“What?”
“When you destroyed her reputation, she could have sued publicly.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“She was trying to protect Arthur’s investigation.”
Lucy believed if Maya knew how much evidence existed, she would target Dad.
She was right.
Lucy took temporary jobs.
Lost housing.
Eventually stopped getting hired in accounting because the embezzlement rumor followed her.
I had never filed criminal charges.
But gossip from my company spread.
People assumed guilt.
My anger had functioned as conviction.
Then I learned why Lucy limped.
Sixteen months earlier, she had been hit by a car while crossing near a bus stop.
Pelvic fracture.
No adequate rehabilitation because she lacked insurance.
She returned to work too soon.
Her gait never fully recovered.
I had mocked that limp from a luxury truck.
I went outside and vomited beside the hedge.
Paul stood several feet away.
He did not comfort me.
I didn’t deserve comforting.
When I returned to the hospital, Lucy immediately knew something had happened.
“Paul?”
“Yes.”
She continued feeding Dad ice chips.
I said:
“I know about your accident.”
Her hand stopped.
“I know what happened after the divorce.”
No answer.
“I’m sorry.”
She turned.
“Alexander.”
“I know that doesn’t—”
“Stop.”
I stopped.
“You’re apologizing because you feel horrible.”
“Yes.”
“That’s about you.”
The truth burned.
She continued.
“If you want to do something useful, help your father.”
I nodded.
“And fix what happened at your company.”
“Yes.”
“And stop treating your guilt like another emergency I need to manage.”
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“Good.”
Then Arthur made a sound.
Not a rasp.
A word.
Weak.
Broken.
But clear.
“Maya.”
We both turned.
Dad’s eyes filled.
Then he forced another word.
“Pills.”
Lucy took his hand.
“What about the pills?”
Arthur struggled.
Then:
“Ray…”
Raymond.
Uncle Raymond.
May you like
The medication change may not have been Maya alone.
---
