Chapter 10 - THE NIGHT THE HARRINGTON EMPIRE FELL
Arthur Harrington was arrested on a cold November morning.
The investigation had uncovered evidence linking him to financial fraud, obstruction, and the deliberate destruction of the Bellwether Conservatory.
Additional charges would depend on the outcome of further proceedings.
Beatrice was questioned regarding the threatening messages sent to Clare.
Investigators found communications connecting her to attempts to intimidate witnesses.
The case became public.
Newspapers ran headlines.
Television crews gathered outside Harrington properties.
And Chicago's wealthiest families suddenly remembered that they had never been particularly close to Arthur Harrington.
Vincent held a press conference.
He didn't deny his family's historical involvement.
He acknowledged that his grandfather had participated in the financial scheme.
He announced that Moretti Holdings would cooperate with investigators and fund an independent review of its historical records.
He also committed to restoring the scholarship funds that had been stolen.
Reporters shouted questions.
One asked:
“Mr. Moretti, are you trying to protect your reputation?”
Vincent looked directly at the cameras.
“No.”
He paused.
“I'm trying to stop protecting the wrong things.”
Clare watched the press conference from her apartment.
Owen sat beside her.
“He actually said that?”
She nodded.
Owen whistled.
“That's going to make some people angry.”
Clare looked at the screen.
“Yes.”
He studied her.
“You like him.”
Clare blushed.
“Owen.”
He grinned.
“You do.”
She looked away.
“I don't know what I feel.”
Owen smiled.
“That's usually how it starts.”
Later that evening, Vincent called.
“Did you see the news?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“It's going to get worse before it gets better.”
“I know.”
He hesitated.
“Clare, I don't want you caught in the middle.”
She smiled sadly.
“Vincent, my mother was caught in the middle thirty-two years ago.”
Silence.
She continued.
“I'm not going to disappear because powerful people are uncomfortable.”
Vincent's voice softened.
“I know.”
Clare looked toward her violin.
Then said:
“There's something I want to do.”
“What?”
“I want to perform.”
Vincent went still.
“Publicly?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“Where?”
May you like
Clare took a breath.
“At the Bellwether site.”
