Page 147 of Stolen Harmony
“The recorded phone calls, Victor. The ones where you admit to deliberately targeting a grieving twenty-six-year-old for your own gratification. The witnesses who saw you at the bar that night, who remember exactly how drunk Rowan was when you approached him.”
The color drained from Victor's face, but he recovered quickly, reaching for the arrogance that had always been his first line of defense.
“You're bluffing. You don't have any recordings.”
“Don't I? Harbor's End is a small town, Victor. People talk. And some of them are smart enough to record conversations when they smell corruption.”
It was partially a bluff, but only partially. The past week had been a blur of desperate phone calls and pulled favors, starting with my lawyer who'd been methodical but frustratingly slow. When legal channels proved insufficient, I'd done something I'd sworn I'd never do again.
I'd called Luka Markovic.
The name alone made my stomach clench with old guilt and older debts. Luka and I had history, back when I'd been stupid enough to think I could run with dangerous people and clever enough to get out before it destroyed me. He'd been a friend once, before he'd become something else entirely. Before his legitimate businesses became fronts and his favors came with prices that couldn't be paid in money.
Contacting him had been a last resort, the kind of decision you made when you were desperate enough to dance with devils. But Luka had resources that my lawyer couldn't access, connections that ran through Harbor's End's underbelly like roots through poisoned soil. He'd always been good at finding dirt, and he'd never forgotten the favor I'd done him years ago when he'd needed someone with clean hands and a cleaner reputation.
The information he'd provided wasn't admissible in court, but it didn't need to be. Victor had been sloppy, confident that his position protected him from scrutiny.
My lawyer had been thorough with what we could use legally, following every lead, tracking down every witness, building a case that would stand up in court and more importantly, in the court of public opinion. Combined with what Luka had uncovered, it painted a picture of a man who'd forgotten that power without accountability was just another word for tyranny.
“Even if you did,” Victor said, but his voice had lost its confident edge, “it would be your word against mine. And who's going to believe the accusations of a man who's been carrying on an inappropriate relationship with his dead wife's son?”
“That's the beautiful thing about truth, Victor. It doesn't require belief. It just requires evidence. And I have plenty of that.”
I opened the folder and spread its contents across the table. Bank records, witness statements, photographs of Victor entering and leaving places he had no business being. The paper trail of a man who'd thought he was too smart to get caught.
“The board has already been briefed,” I said, watching his face as the reality of his situation began to sink in. “They're meeting tomorrow to discuss your immediate removal from all positions. The DA's office has copies of everything. And the press... well, let's just say they're very interested in stories about small-town corruption and abuse of power.”
Victor's hands were shaking as he reached for his drink, the careful composure finally cracking to reveal the panic underneath.
“You think you've won?” he said, but the words lackedconviction. “Even if you destroy me, he'll never forgive you for what you did. For pushing him away, for making him vulnerable to me in the first place.”
“Maybe not. But at least he won't have to live with you in his shadow anymore.”
“You don't understand what you're destroying,” Victor said, desperation creeping into his voice. “The deals I've made, the connections I've built, the progress I've brought to Harbor's End. You're willing to sacrifice all of that for a boy who doesn't even want you?”
“I'm willing to sacrifice anything to keep him safe from you.”
He slumped back in his chair, the fight going out of him as the full scope of his defeat became clear.
“What do you want?” he asked finally.
“Your resignation from every position you hold. Effective immediately. You'll also be selling your properties in Harbor's End and relocating somewhere far enough away that you'll never accidentally run into Rowan again.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then everything goes public tomorrow. Your crimes, your victims, your complete and utter destruction. Your choice.”
Victor stared at the papers spread across the table, the evidence of his own corruption laid out like a map of his failures. Finally, he nodded.
“I'll need time to arrange things.”
“You have forty-eight hours. After that, this becomes someone else's problem.”
I gathered up the papers and stood to leave, but Victor's voice stopped me at the door.
“He'll never trust you again, you know.”
“Maybe not,” I said without turning around. “But that's between him and me. You don't get to be part of it anymore.”
