For three days, I had desperately held onto one reassuring explanation: my parents had behaved selfishly on Christmas Eve, but perhaps they hadn’t understood. Perhaps they had accepted Victor’s financial assistance without realizing the implications.
That explanation vanished with his admission.
“You understood there were no consulting services,” I replied.
“I advised Victor.”
“About what?”
“Business matters.”
“Tell me one specific assignment.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“No. That’s precisely the point.”
His breathing became increasingly strained.
“The corporate attorney says I must retain every email, invoice, calendar entry—everything. But I don’t have any invoices.”
“Because you never completed the work.”
“We had conversations!”
“Conversations worth three thousand dollars every single month?”
Dad responded sharply. “Your husband offered financial assistance to this family.”
Once again, his priorities were unmistakable.
Not concern about what Victor had done. Not concern that Lily had witnessed it. Not even a question about our safety.
Only the payments.
I glanced toward the bed. Lily moved slightly beneath her blanket without opening her eyes.
“On Christmas Eve,” I told him, “I came into your home with visible bruising and needed somewhere safe to sleep. You told me to remain married because Victor supported you financially. Mom insisted I replace those payments before she would help me.”
“We weren’t thinking clearly.”
“You were thinking about money.”
“That’s an unfair accusation.”
“It’s exactly what happened.”
Something shifted in his voice. His frustration gradually gave way to desperation.
“What am I supposed to do?”
I nearly laughed, although the situation no longer seemed remotely amusing.
“Speak with an attorney.”
“I can’t possibly pay for an expensive corporate attorney.”
“Contact the New Jersey bar referral service, then. But I won’t discuss any investigation details with you.”
“Investigation?”
He immediately focused on that word.
“What investigation are you talking about?”
Before I could respond, Priya tapped gently on my hotel room door.
I informed Dad that I needed to end our conversation.
His voice rose again.
“Anna, don’t end this call. Your mother is frightened. Daniel might lose his entire career. We could even lose our home.”
That caught my attention.
“Why would your home be at risk?”
He remained silent.
I stood motionless.
“Dad, why would you lose the house?”
“We refinanced the mortgage.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
He released a long, uneasy breath.
Three years before, when Northstar expanded its operations into Pennsylvania, Victor convinced my parents to borrow another $120,000 against their home. They sent the entire amount directly to him.
In exchange, he assured them he would “look after them” through regular monthly payments.
The $3,000 wasn’t simply an act of kindness.
It was Victor’s way of keeping them satisfied without officially paying back what he borrowed.
My father had kept everything from me.
“How much money does he still owe you?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“How could you possibly not know?”
“Because he told us those monthly payments were taking care of it.”
“Did you sign a written loan agreement?”
He fell silent again.
An uncomfortable realization slowly settled over me.
“You handed Victor one hundred and twenty thousand dollars without getting anything in writing?”
“We considered him family.”
“No,” I replied. “He saw an opportunity to control you.”
My father’s voice began trembling.
“Please speak with him. Ask him to straighten everything out.”
“He was taken into custody yesterday for breaking the protective order.”
“What?”
“He showed up outside Lily’s preschool.”
Dad stopped speaking entirely.
For the first time, I sensed genuine concern that had absolutely nothing to do with finances.
Priya knocked once more. I opened the door and welcomed her inside.
She was holding a folder along with two breakfast sandwiches.
“Your dad?” she asked quietly.
I nodded.
Eventually, Dad broke the silence.
“Is Lily all right?”
“Yes.”
“And how are you?”
I glanced at the faint reflection of my bruised face in the darkened hotel window.
“I’m slowly getting better.”
He started speaking again, but I disconnected the call.
Priya didn’t question what my father had wanted. Instead, she placed her folder on the desk.
Inside was an official notice announcing an emergency Northstar board meeting, scheduled to take place by video conference later that afternoon.
For years, Victor insisted that Northstar belonged to him simply because he managed its operations.
However, the official ownership documents told a different story.
I held forty percent. Victor owned another forty percent. Ethan Cole, an original investor who helped finance our second warehouse lease, held the final twenty percent.
The board consisted of three directors: Victor, Ethan, and myself.
Throughout eleven years, I had participated in only two board meetings.
Victor persuaded me those meetings were merely administrative formalities and that Lily deserved my attention more than Northstar ever would.
Now Ethan was requesting a formal vote.
At exactly 2:00 p.m., I joined the meeting from Priya’s office.
Victor appeared on screen from his lawyer’s conference room, having been released while awaiting his next scheduled court appearance.
His familiar charm had completely disappeared.
He stared through the camera as though nobody else were present.
“You must be enjoying every minute of this,” he remarked.
Priya immediately stepped in.
“Please limit your comments to company matters.”
Ethan appeared completely exhausted.
He had spent the previous forty-eight hours examining Marisol’s preserved documentation alongside Northstar’s independent accountant.
Their conclusions remained preliminary, but the evidence was already substantial.
My father’s consulting payments lacked supporting invoices or evidence of completed services. Daniel’s additional compensation had circumvented the compensation committee. Victor had billed personal trips to Northstar and transferred funds between accounts without obtaining the required second authorization.
Then Ethan revealed information even I hadn’t previously encountered.
During the preceding six months, Victor had directed more than $210,000 from Northstar to a vendor named HRC Strategic Services.
Its listed mailing address led to a commercial mailbox business in Newark.
One of Victor’s former college friends controlled the company.
Victor insisted the arrangement involved legitimate consulting services.
The accountant requested copies of the contracts.
Victor couldn’t produce any.
Ethan recommended temporarily removing Victor from his chief executive responsibilities until an independent forensic examination could be completed.
Victor fixed his gaze on me.
“If you support this proposal, there’s no way to undo what’s happening.”
My thoughts returned to Christmas Eve.
I remembered Dad bringing his hand down against the table.
I remembered Mom carefully glazing the Christmas ham while I stood only a few feet away, still nursing an injured lip.
I remembered Lily asking the morning after Victor pushed me whether Daddy had been “upset with the door or upset with Mommy.”
Then I cast my vote in favor.
Ethan voted in favor too. Victor opposed the motion.
Two votes against one.
For the first time in many years, Victor couldn’t dictate the outcome.
He didn’t raise his voice. Somehow, that might have been easier.