“But the agreement assumes Whitmore is the development partner.” Eleanor’s anger did not come as heat. It came as organization. “Freeze any further payment to Mercer Creative Strategy pending review,” she said.
“Do not accuse anyone of anything. Pull every invoice, approval chain, and email tied to those charges. Have our outside auditor start Monday. Rebecca Shaw will contact you tonight.”
Martin hesitated. “Do you want Harrison notified?” “No. I will do it.”
She hung up and sat at her desk for a long time. Richard had once told her the greatest danger in family business was not theft. Theft was obvious. The greatest danger was entitlement dressed as initiative.
A son did not need to think he was stealing if he had convinced himself the money would eventually benefit everybody. He only needed to believe his judgment outranked the rules. Eleanor called Harrison at 6:19. He answered on the fourth ring.
“What now?” The tone told her he was still angry about the bag. “Where are you?” she asked. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Sloan’s apartment.” “Good.”
“Then you are not driving. I need you to listen carefully.” Eleanor opened the first email Martin had forwarded. “Did you approve forty-eight thousand six hundred dollars in consulting payments to Mercer Creative Strategy from the Ashford renovation budget?”