Chapter 6: The Deal He Tried to Make
My father's attorney was a man named Gerald Fitch.
He had represented Harrison Bennett for nineteen years, and he walked out of the chapel forty minutes after the guests had gone with the practiced calm of a man who had navigated worse situations than this and knew it.
He asked to speak with me privately.
Lucas started to stand.
I put my hand on his arm.
"I'll hear what he has to say."
We moved to the side of the chapel steps.
Fitch was in his early sixties, silver-suited, with the kind of careful eyes that were always measuring something.
"Miss Bennett," he said.
"I want to be direct with you."
"Please."
"Your father is prepared to cooperate fully with the federal investigation.
He is prepared to provide complete documentation of the foundation's financial activity, including the names of any third parties involved in the fund management."
"That sounds like a confession," I said.
Fitch didn't blink.
"It sounds like a man who wants to resolve this matter with the least possible damage to his family."
"The forty-one families who lost their homes," I said.
"Are they part of the family he's protecting?"
A brief pause.
"Your father is prepared to establish a full restitution fund.
Every family made whole.
He is also prepared to step down from all board positions and dissolve the foundation immediately."
"In exchange for what?"
"Reduced charges.
Potentially a structured settlement rather than prosecution." He looked at me steadily.
"Your cooperation would be helpful.
Specifically, if you were to speak with Commander Hayes about the context of your mother's involvement — her signature on certain documents — it would assist in clarifying the nature of her role."
There it was.
"He wants me to help implicate my mother," I said.
"He wants you to provide accurate context—"
"He wants me to tell the investigators that my mother signed documents under duress, or without full knowledge, so that the account in her name looks like his doing rather than hers." I kept my voice even.
"So that he can argue she was a victim of his scheme rather than a witness to it."
Fitch said nothing.
"And in exchange," I continued, "he'll repay the families he stole from.
Which he should do regardless.
And he'll dissolve a foundation he's already finished with." I looked at him.
"That's not a deal, Mr.
Fitch.
That's my father trying to use me one more time."
"Miss Bennett—"
"Tell him no."
Fitch studied me for a moment.
Then he straightened his jacket.
"He said you might say that," he said quietly.
"He asked me to remind you that your mother's situation is considerably more complicated than it may appear.
Her signature on that account authorization is not easily explained away, regardless of her intentions."
"I know," I said.
"She has an attorney.
A good one.
They'll work through it together."
"Your father is also prepared to—"
"Mr.
Fitch." I stopped him.
"My father laughed at me this morning in front of everyone I know and told me to walk myself down the aisle.
Then I found out he has been stealing from veterans for years while my mother kept silent and my fiancé spent six months building a case against him." I looked at him steadily.
"There is nothing he can offer me that I want."
Fitch was quiet for a moment.
"I'll relay your answer," he said.
He went back inside.
I walked back to Lucas.
"He offered a deal," I said.
"Restitution and dissolution in exchange for me helping to redirect blame toward my mother."
Lucas's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes went very still.
"What did you say?"
"No."
He let out a slow breath.
"He'll try something else," I said.
"He's not done."
"No," Lucas agreed.
"He's not."
We didn't have to wait long.
Twenty minutes later, the chapel door opened again.
My father walked out.
He had straightened his tie.
His face was composed.
He looked, from a distance, like a man who had just attended a slightly difficult business meeting.
He stopped at the top of the steps.
He looked at Lucas first.
A long, measuring look.
Then he looked at me.
"Victoria." His voice was the one I had grown up with.
Certain.
Accustomed to being heard.
"Whatever you think you know, you are making a decision right now that you cannot undo."
"I know," I said.
"Your mother is not the person you think she is.
What she's done — the records she claims to have — she built that to protect herself.
Not you.
Not this family.
Herself."
"Maybe," I said.
"But she gave it to me.
And I gave it to Lucas."
Something moved across his face.
Not anger.
Something colder.
"You would destroy your own family," he said.
"For him."
"You destroyed it," I said.
"Eleven years ago.
I'm just the one who finally found out."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he looked at Lucas.
"Enjoy this," he said quietly.
"It won't last."
He walked down the steps and got into Gerald Fitch's waiting car.
I watched it pull away from the curb and turn the corner and disappear.
Lucas stood beside me.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
I thought about it honestly.
"Ask me again in a year," I said.
He nodded.
He didn't push.
Down the street, the same church bell rang again.
One slow note.
Then silence.
What I didn't know yet — what none of us knew — was that my father had made one more call before he left the chapel.
Not to Fitch.
May you like
Not to his accountant.
To Brandon.
