Chapter 16
Dozens of them.
Families.
Addresses.
Amounts.
Dates.
Some had notes beside them.
RELOCATION PAID.
SECOND OFFER ACCEPTED.
DISPUTE.
SIGNATURE QUESTIONED.
My stomach sank.
“This is everything Clara was looking for.”
“Maybe more.”
We spent nearly an hour going through the boxes.
A pattern emerged.
My father had started Lakefront Development with an ambitious plan to redevelop several declining commercial blocks and surrounding properties.
Nothing unusual about that.
The project became complicated when owners refused to sell.
Raffaele created Harbor Ridge as a separate company.
At least, that was what the records suggested.
Harbor Ridge began buying properties indirectly.
Some families received fair offers.
Others did not.
Several transactions had questionable paperwork.
Daniel Mercer’s name appeared repeatedly as an authorization witness.
Then, eighteen months after Harbor Ridge began operating, my father seemed to discover what had been happening.
There were handwritten notes everywhere.
WHO AUTHORIZED THIS?
RAFF—EXPLAIN.
STOP ALL PURCHASES.
CONTACT FAMILIES DIRECTLY.
I sat on the floor surrounded by documents.
My father had known.
But later than I expected.
Maybe later than he could forgive himself for.
Mateo held out another page.
“Look.”
It was a memorandum signed by Antonio Valente.
Effective immediately, all Harbor Ridge acquisitions are suspended pending internal audit. Any property acquired using disputed authorization is to be reviewed for restitution, resale, or compensation.
I read it twice.
“So he did stop it.”
“Looks like he tried.”
“Then why hide all this?”
Mateo glanced at the boxes.
“Maybe he wasn’t hiding it.”
Before I could respond, I noticed the metal filing cabinet.
Unlike the boxes, it was locked.
The brass key had a second, smaller key attached to the ring.
I had not noticed it before.
It opened the cabinet.
Inside were six hanging folders.
The first five contained settlement records.
My father had quietly compensated several families.
Not all.
But many.
The final folder had my name on it.
DOMINIC
I did not touch it.
Mateo looked at me.
“You want privacy?”
Part of me did.
The old part.
The part that believed privacy and secrecy were interchangeable.
“No.”
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
My father had addressed it to me.
No date.
I unfolded the pages.
Dominic,
If you are reading this, either I finally became brave enough to show you or someone else became brave enough for me.
I stopped.
My father’s voice seemed to fill the storage unit.
I kept reading.