Page 91 of A Mistake of Worth
“Conservative estimate? Fifty million in cryptocurrency alone over the past three years,” Nika said, pulling up another screen showing blockchain transactions. “Traditional currencies through the shell companies bring it closer to a hundred million.”
Michael whistled low. “And Marc?”
“Clean,” Gabriel said flatly. “Too clean. No bank records linking him to any of this, no calls to Haldeman, no meetings we can document. Alain’s people can’t even place him in the same room as his father’s business associates.”
Alain shrugged, swirling his wine. “If he knows about Olivier’s deals, he’s insulated himself perfectly. Smart enough to keep his hands off anything traceable.”
Michael’s frustration spiked. “Nobody’s that clean unless they’re working at it.”
“Exactly,” Gabriel said. “Which tells us he’s either completely innocent...”
“Which we know he’s not,” Alain interjected.
“Or he’s been very, very careful for a very long time.” Gabriel pulled up another screen showing Marc’s financial profile. “His personal accounts show salary deposits from Three Rivers, standard investment returns, and normal expenses. No large cash deposits, no unexplained transfers, no offshore accounts in his name.”
“What about the penthouse?” Michael asked. “Le Ciel Tower has to cost a fortune.”
“Owned by a Saint-Clair family trust,” Nika said. “Legitimate inheritance. The car, the travel, the lifestyle, all funded through documented family wealth.”
Michael stared at the screen, his business instincts screaming that something was wrong. “This is too perfect. Everyone leaves digital footprints.”
“That’s what worries me,” Gabriel said. “We can ruin Olivier tomorrow if we want to. Release this to the press, tip off the FBI, watch Three Rivers collapse. But that plays into Marc’s hands.”
“How?”
Nika leaned back in his chair. “Think about the narrative. A corrupt father gets exposed, and a virtuous son steps up to clean house. Marc’s reputation stays intact, maybe even gets enhanced. He consolidates power while playing the grieving, betrayed son.”
“And it gives him a reason to restructure everything,” Alain added. “New shell companies, new accounts, new systems we’ll never crack.”
Michael’s fists clenched on the table. “So what, we just let Olivier keep trafficking people while we play political games?”
“We don’t make a move unless it counts,” Gabriel said quietly. “Burn the house down wrong, and the man inside runs free with everything he wants.”
Michael forced himself to breathe, to think. Gabriel was right. This required a scalpel, not a sledgehammer.
“There’s one anomaly,” Nika said, scrolling through another set of records. “Payments routed through something called Crescent City Logistics. Looks completely legitimate on the surface. Import-export, shipping manifests, all the right paperwork. But the payment patterns are unusual. Regular monthly transfers, always the same amount. Always. Never a fluctuation by even a cent.”
Gabriel made a note. “Can you trace where those payments end up?”
“Working on it. The money disappears into a network of personal accounts. Could be payroll, could be bribes, likely both.”
Alain set down his wine glass. “I’ll check my sources on Crescent City. If they’re moving people instead of cargo, someone in the docks will know.”
They spent another two hours hammering out details, assigning roles with the meticulous precision of people who understood that mistakes got people killed. Nika would continue building the case against Olivier while mapping Marc’s hidden connections. Alain would work his street contacts for any whisper linking Marc to Haldeman’s network. Gabriel would keep Jean safe and out of the loop while coordinating their efforts.
And Michael would follow the Crescent City lead, using his business connections to see if the paper trail ended with a human one.
When the meeting finally broke, Michael’s head was spinning with financial data and contingency plans. Gabriel and Lucas walked him to the front hall, where soft light from the parlor spilled through open doors. Inside, Ellis was curled on the couch, Jean perched beside him in that stunning outfit, talking animatedly with his hands while Ellis listened with patient attention.
Jean was laughing at something Michael couldn’t hear, his face bright with the kind of joy that came from feeling completely safe with someone. The sheer panels of his top caught the light as he gestured, and Lucas watched from the doorway with the satisfied expression of someone admiring his favorite work of art.
Henri didn’t have that. Not anymore.
“Stay here,” Gabriel said quietly, following Michael’s gaze into the parlor. “I’ve got plenty of room on the second floor. Better security than any hotel, and you’ll be closer to our operations.”
Michael hesitated, then nodded. The offer made practical sense, and right now he needed to be surrounded by people who understood what Henri meant to him.
“Thank you.”
