Chapter 3 - MONDAY AT JFK
My family did not believe the trip was truly canceled.
That became obvious Monday morning.
By then, Clara was home resting under her doctor’s instructions, and I was sitting at our kitchen island reviewing financial records when Vanessa began posting angry messages in the family chat.
We’re at JFK and Emirates says the bookings are fake.
Dad says fix this NOW.
I stared at the screen.
The bookings had not been fake.
They had been canceled.
Apparently Vanessa had edited old itinerary PDFs and insisted at the first-class counter that the airline system was wrong.
Dad joined her.
Then Eleanor demanded a supervisor.
Within twenty minutes, they had created such a scene that airport security became involved and escorted them away from the premium check-in area.
Vanessa called screaming.
“You made us look like criminals!”
“No.”
I kept my voice calm.
“You tried to travel using canceled reservations and then refused to leave the counter.”
“They were paid!”
“By me.”
“You can’t just take back a gift!”
“I canceled services purchased in my name before they were used.”
Dad grabbed the phone.
“You get us on that flight right now.”
“No.”
“You ungrateful little—”
I ended the call.
Then I blocked all three numbers temporarily.
The silence lasted four minutes.
Nathan called.
“Arthur, we identified who approved your father’s consulting company.”
“Who?”
“My former controller, Martin Reeves.”
Martin had retired six months earlier.
I knew him well.
He had worked for me almost eight years.
“Why would Martin approve Dad?”
“I asked him.”
“And?”
“He says Richard told him you wanted your family compensated privately because you were embarrassed about putting relatives on payroll.”
I actually laughed.
“What services did Dad supposedly provide?”
Nathan opened invoices.
Government relations.
Strategic sourcing.
Executive relationship management.
My father had done none of those things.
Over three years, Lancaster Strategic Consulting received $648,000.
Then Nathan found something worse.
Dad’s firm had subcontracted another business.
Vanessa Lifestyle Advisory.
My sister’s company.
She had received $186,000.
“What exactly does Vanessa advise on?”
Nathan said dryly:
“Apparently lifestyle.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Freeze every unpaid invoice.”
“Done.”
Then Nathan grew quiet.
“There’s one more thing.”
My father had not only invoiced my company.
He had used the fake consulting relationship to obtain a bank loan.
The lender had approved $900,000 because Lancaster Strategic Consulting supposedly held a long-term contract with my corporation.
Attached to the loan was a corporate guarantee.
Signed:
May you like
Arthur Lancaster.
I had never signed it.
