Chapter 1 - THE MONEY THAT VANISHED
Eight thousand seven hundred and forty dollars.
Approved.
Disbursed.
Gone.
I stared at the financial record on Daniel Price's tablet, feeling a kind of anger I hadn't experienced in years.
Someone inside my organization had taken money approved for an eighteen-year-old employee's prosthetic leg.
And then told her she didn't deserve the equipment she needed to walk safely.
"Where was it transferred?" I asked.
Daniel enlarged the transaction.
"A third-party medical account. Blue Harbor Rehabilitation Services."
"Who owns it?"
"We're checking."
I leaned back in my chair.
"How many other payments went through that account?"
Daniel's fingers moved across the screen.
His expression became increasingly disturbed.
"Twenty-nine."
"Total?"
He swallowed.
"Two hundred eighty-six thousand dollars."
For a moment, I said nothing.
Twenty-nine medical assistance payments had been redirected.
Hearing aids.
Mobility equipment.
Medication.
Therapy.
The people who needed that money were probably borrowing from relatives, missing appointments, or working through pain while someone in my organization enjoyed the profits.
"Get our independent accountants involved," I said. "Preserve everything. No one changes a single record."
Daniel nodded.
"And Patricia?"
"Find her. Through legal channels. I want every transaction examined."
A knock interrupted us.
Samuel Wilson stood in the doorway.
"Mr. Graves?"
"What?"
He hesitated.
"It's Annie."
I stood.
"What happened?"
"Her prosthetic failed again. She fell near the laundry room."
I was already moving.
We found Annie sitting on a low bench, her face pale.
Her red notebook lay beside her.
Samuel had brought a cold compress.
"I'm fine," Annie insisted when she saw me.
I looked at the damaged socket.
The locking mechanism was visibly cracked.
"You're not fine."
She straightened.
"Sir, I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to finish the west wing before six."
"Forget the west wing."
Her eyes widened.
"Am I fired?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
"No."
She looked unconvinced.
"I can finish if someone gives me twenty minutes."
"Annie."
She stopped.
"You're going to see a medical professional. Today."
Her expression changed.
"I can't afford—"
"I know."
She stared at me.
I crouched to her eye level.
"Your medical request was approved four months ago."
Her mouth opened.
"What?"
"Eight thousand seven hundred and forty dollars."
Annie went completely still.
"No."
I nodded.
"The money was approved. But it never reached you."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"I called the office six times."
"I know."
"They said I wasn't eligible."
"I know."
She looked down at her prosthetic.
Then whispered, "I thought I'd done something wrong."
Something inside my chest tightened.
I had built an empire where people feared disappointing me.
Somewhere along the way, that fear had allowed others to abuse their authority without being questioned.
"Annie, you didn't do anything wrong."
She wiped her cheeks quickly.
"Then who took it?"
I looked at Daniel.
He stepped forward.
"We're investigating."
Annie's expression hardened.
"If someone stole it, I want to know who."
I nodded.
"So do I."
Later that evening, an independent auditor called.
Her name was Rebecca Shaw.
She had discovered that Blue Harbor Rehabilitation Services was registered to a holding company.
A company with a familiar name.
"Mr. Graves," she said carefully, "the registered director is Patricia Sloan."
I wasn't surprised.
Then Rebecca continued.
"But there's a second authorized signatory."
"Who?"
She hesitated.
"Your right-hand man."
I slowly turned toward Daniel.
Rebecca's voice remained clear.
May you like
"Daniel Price."
And suddenly, the man standing beside me looked like someone I no longer knew.
