Chapter 3 - THE MERCER FOUNDATIONDiane Mercer had run the Mercer Family Foundation for fourteen years.
Education grants.
Hospital funding.
Arts programs.
At least, that was the public version.
The foundation held roughly forty million dollars.
Most originated from Julian’s late father, Arthur.
Diane loved the role.
Galas.
Boards.
Recognition.
A building at a university carried the Mercer name because of her.
But the foundation had a problem.
It was missing money.
My forensic accountant, Leah Chen, called me from the hospital the next morning.
“Evelyn, we found transfers.”
“How much?”
“Eleven point eight million.”
My stomach dropped.
“From where?”
“Three sources.”
First:
Mercer Foundation accounts.
Second:
A family investment partnership.
Third:
A bridge loan from one of my holding companies.
I sat up.
“My company?”
“You authorized a temporary liquidity facility eighteen months ago.”
I remembered.
Diane said the foundation needed cash while waiting on pledged donations.
I approved five million.
It was supposed to be repaid in ninety days.
Finance told me it had been.
Apparently not correctly.
The repayment came from another Mercer-controlled account.
Money moved in circles.
Then disappeared into an entity called North Star Advisory Group.
I knew the name.
Chloe’s consulting company.
My husband’s mistress had received foundation money.
“How much?”
“Three point two million directly.”
I closed my eyes.
“And the rest?”
“Moved through three LLCs.”
Beneficial ownership records were incomplete.
But one connected to Diane.
Another to Chloe.
The third?
My brother-in-law, Nathan.
I stopped.
“Nathan?”
The same man who caught me when Chloe shoved me.
Julian’s younger brother.
Quiet.
Reliable.
The one Mercer I still trusted.
Leah said:
“We need to verify before accusing anyone.”
“Yes.”
I had learned that lesson.
Then she added:
“There’s another issue.”
Of course.
“Someone used your electronic authorization to approve one of the bridge-loan amendments.”
“I didn’t.”
“We know.”
“How?”
“The login originated in Boston while you were physically in California.”
Forgery.
Or stolen credentials.
“Who had access?”
“Your assistant.”
“No.”
“Your attorney.”
“No.”
“Julian’s family office administrator.”
My stomach tightened.
His name was Peter Sloan.
He worked for Diane.
Had for twenty years.
May you like
And Peter had been sitting three chairs away when Chloe shoved me.
The conspiracy was getting wider.
