Chapter 9
At five forty in the morning, the civic board called Charlotte.
Without an authenticated design archive, Preston could argue that her drawings had been created after the accusations began.
Charlotte closed her eyes.
Then she remembered something.
The competition required every finalist to deposit one sealed paper portfolio at the downtown public library before blind review.
Everyone complained that the requirement was outdated.
Charlotte had delivered hers personally.
At seven that morning, a records supervisor opened the secure cabinet.
Entry seventeen remained inside.
Unopened.
Stamped.
Dated.
Authenticated.
At the ethics hearing the following day, Preston arrived with two attorneys.
Charlotte arrived with Madison.
Damon sat several rows behind her beside his lawyer.
He did not approach.
The hearing lasted nearly four hours.
The sealed portfolio proved Charlotte’s design predated Preston’s proposal.
Bank records connected the false company authorization to Preston’s division.
Elena testified about the forged signature and the affair.
Then Damon’s surrendered ledger established that Preston had personally authorized the six-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer.
Preston’s attorney tried to redirect the hearing toward Damon.
“How can this board trust records produced by a man whose organization has spent decades avoiding oversight?”
Damon leaned toward the microphone.
“You shouldn’t trust them because they came from me.”
The room went quiet.
“You should authenticate them.”
The board attorney nodded.
“We did.”
Damon continued.
“If those records prove crimes I committed, prosecute those too.”
Preston stared at him.
His face finally lost its confidence.
During recess, he cornered Damon near the corridor.
“You’re destroying everything for her.”
Damon looked at him.
“No.”
“You handed them your companies.”
“I handed them records.”
“For Charlotte.”
“For the truth.”
Preston laughed bitterly.
“You think she belongs to you now?”
Something changed in Damon’s expression.
Not anger.
Recognition.
“That sentence is why you never understood her.”
Preston’s mouth tightened.
Damon continued.
“This was never about whether Charlotte belonged to you or me. That’s why you lost her before she ever heard the word temporary.”
Preston looked across the hall.
Charlotte was talking to an ironworker and his teenage daughter, who had applied for one of the restoration apprenticeships.
She never turned around.
Forty-three minutes later, the board returned.
Charlotte Hayes and her studio were cleared unanimously of financial misconduct.
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The commission had been awarded through a legitimate blind review and would proceed.
An independent monitor would oversee the finances.
