Chapter 5 - The Professor's EnvelopeProfessor Elias Ward had been retired for six years.
But he still answered my calls on the first ring.
When I arrived at his house, he was waiting on the porch.
He looked at me once.
Then at the security team behind me.
"You finally got noticed."
I stared.
"You knew this was coming?"
He sighed.
"I knew someone would eventually ask questions."
"About Northbridge?"
His expression changed.
"Who told you that name?"
"My father."
"Then we're already too late."
He let me inside.
His house smelled like old books and coffee.
Nothing had changed since I was sixteen.
Not even the wooden table where I had written the first equations that became ValeCore.
Professor Ward sat across from me.
"I need the truth."
"I know."
"Start with Northbridge."
He folded his hands.
"Northbridge was never a real investment company."
My pulse jumped.
"What?"
"It was a legal vehicle."
"For what?"
"For your protection."
I stared at him.
"From whom?"
He looked toward the window.
"Your father."
My stomach dropped.
"What did he do?"
"He discovered your research."
"When?"
"When you were fifteen."
"He knew?"
"Not everything."
"Then what?"
"Enough to know you were building something valuable."
I stood.
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"Because your father believed you were a child playing with dangerous technology."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
He looked tired.
"So I'll give you the real one."
He opened a drawer.
Inside was a thick envelope.
My name.
My handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
"What's that?"
"Your original contingency agreement."
I pulled it out.
Inside were pages covered in signatures, dates, company structures and trust clauses.
Then I found it.
A clause I had never seen.
In the event of attempted family interference, control shall transfer to the protected beneficiary.
I stared.
"Who wrote this?"
"You."
"I was sixteen."
"You were brilliant."
"Who helped me?"
"You did."
"That's impossible."
He smiled faintly.
"You wrote the code. I helped you write the contracts."
I looked at the signatures.
Mine.
His.
And one more.
My mother's.
I couldn't breathe.
"Mom signed this?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because she asked me to."
I stared at him.
"She asked you to protect me?"
He nodded.
"From your father."
"Why?"
Professor Ward's eyes hardened.
"Because three years ago, your father wasn't worried about losing money."
He pushed the final page toward me.
"He was worried about losing control."
The last page contained a list of attempted actions.
Property seizure.
Patent reassignment.
Corporate interference.
Unauthorized access.
Every entry had one date.
And one name.
Richard Vale.
I looked up.
"My father tried to take ValeCore."
"Yes."
"When?"
"Before the company existed."
My mouth went dry.
"Then why didn't the transfer happen?"
"Because your mother stopped it."
I stared at him.
"My mother?"
"She secretly created the protective trust."
"Using Northbridge?"
"Yes."
"So she protected me."
Professor Ward hesitated.
"At first."
The room seemed to tilt.
"What changed?"
He looked straight at me.
"She got afraid."
"Of what?"
"Of losing Bianca."
My heart sank.
"Explain."
"Your mother eventually discovered that your father had debts."
"How much?"
He paused.
"Enough that a failed investment could destroy the family."
"So she chose Bianca."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
He looked away.
"Your mother began borrowing from the trust."
My eyes closed.
"The twelve million."
He nodded.
"She told herself she would replace it."
"Did she?"
"No."
A long silence followed.
"How much is missing?"
Professor Ward didn't answer.
"How much?"
He finally said:
"Forty-three million."
My eyes opened.
"Forty-three?"
"Across several accounts."
"Where did it go?"
He handed me another file.
There were transfer records.
Luxury apartments.
Private schools.
Travel.
Investment losses.
Bianca.
My sister's name appeared over and over.
I stared at the pages.
Then I saw something else.
One transfer.
Twenty million dollars.
Destination unknown.
I looked at Professor Ward.
"Who received this?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"No."
He leaned closer.
"I never found the final beneficiary."
My phone buzzed.
Mara.
I answered.
"Tell me."
Her voice was tight.
"We traced the twenty-million transfer."
"And?"
"It's not a person."
"Then what?"
She whispered:
"It's a company."
"Which company?"
Mara gave me the name.
I stopped moving.
Because I had seen that name before.
In the letter someone had left beneath my stolen server.
Northbridge Holdings.
May you like
But Northbridge was dissolved.
Unless it wasn't.
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