Chapter 8 - The Man Behind the Dissertation
Professor Feldman entered the library carrying no weapon.
That surprised me.
Dominic’s security team appeared behind him seconds later, but nobody touched him.
“Why is he walking freely?” Dominic demanded.
Feldman calmly removed his gloves.
“Because I invited them to call the police if they believe I committed a crime by entering a house where the owner previously gave me access.”
Victoria stared at him.
“That permission was revoked.”
“You never told me.”
“I’m telling you now.”
Feldman looked older than he had on campus.
Or perhaps I had finally stopped seeing him as my professor.
He looked at the notebooks.
“I wondered whether Charles left those.”
Victoria’s voice shook.
“My father.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was investigating Margrave.”
“I helped him.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“And my father?”
Feldman studied him.
“Helped us.”
“Us?”
“Before Margrave became what it is now.”
I had heard enough riddles.
“Start talking.”
His eyes moved toward me.
There was almost pride there.
That infuriated me.
“You were always impatient when you understood half the puzzle.”
“And you were always condescending when you wanted to hide the other half.”
A faint smile.
“Good.”
“Stop grading me.”
That erased it.
Feldman sat.
To everyone’s surprise, Dominic allowed him.
Then the professor began.
Margrave had started after World War II as an unofficial alliance of industrial families, shipping companies, banks and legal scholars.
Governments were unstable.
Supply chains fragile.
The Cold War beginning.
Its founders believed essential commerce should remain protected from political upheaval.
At first, the organization coordinated food shipments, medicine and infrastructure.
Then generations changed.
The mission changed with them.
Protection became control.
Control became profit.
Profit became power.
By the time Dominic and Victoria’s fathers became involved, Margrave quietly influenced ports, shipping insurance, real estate corridors and international arbitration.
“They wanted the Russo network,” Feldman said.
Dominic’s expression remained cold.
“My father refused.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He believed logistics power should remain fragmented.”
Dominic gave a humorless laugh.
“My father, defender of democracy?”
“People are rarely only one thing.”
That line stayed with me.
Feldman looked toward Victoria.
“Your father agreed with him.”
“And they died.”
“Yes.”
“Did Margrave kill them?”
Feldman hesitated.
“I don't know.”
“You expect us to believe that?”
“No. But it is the truth.”
I pointed to the altered contract.
“You built this.”
“Yes.”
Dominic moved toward him.
I stepped between them.
“Wait.”
Dominic looked at me.
“He's finally admitting it.”
“Let him finish.”
Feldman nodded.
“The agreement was designed to expose Margrave’s current leadership.”
I stared.
“By handing them Dominic's company?”
“By making them believe they could take it.”
“You used a real corporation as bait?”
“Yes.”
Dominic's voice was deadly.
“Mine.”
“Yes.”
“You might want to leave now.”
Feldman remained calm.
“I needed them to move.”
“Who?”
“The people controlling Margrave.”
“Names.”
“I don't have all of them.”
“Then what was the point?”
“To force them to reveal themselves through the transfer.”
I understood.
The debt.
The changed ownership clauses.
Helix Crown.
Whoever activated the trap would leave a trail.
“You created a honeypot.”
Feldman smiled faintly.
“Your terminology is inelegant, but correct.”
My anger returned.
“And me?”
“You were the safeguard.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You manipulated my education.”
“I educated you.”
“You selected my research.”
“I suggested fields where your talent would matter.”
“You got me the restaurant job.”
“Yes.”
“You placed me at Dominic’s table.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Victoria whispered, “My God.”
My eyes burned.
Not with sadness.
Rage.
“You had no right.”
Feldman looked genuinely regretful.
“No.”
That answer hurt more than justification would have.
“I needed someone outside Margrave, outside the Russo organization, outside Helix Crown—someone who could understand the structure and had no incentive to protect any of us.”
“So you chose a broke graduate student with a sick mother.”
“I chose the smartest person I had ever taught.”
“Don't flatter me.”
“I’m not.”
For several seconds, we stared at each other.
Then I asked the question that mattered.
“Who sent the photographs?”
Feldman’s expression darkened.
“That wasn't me.”
“Who?”
“I believe the current head of Margrave.”
“Name.”
Before he could answer, Daniel’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
“Adrian.”
Dominic took it.
“Where are you?”
Adrian’s voice came faintly through.
“Dominic, the accounts are moving.”
“What?”
“Everything. Margrave is liquidating positions.”
Feldman stood.
“They know.”
“Know what?” Victoria asked.
“That Charles’s notebooks were found.”
Adrian continued.
“And Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“Someone initiated the Helix transfer.”
Victoria went pale.
“I didn't.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because it came from an administrator account tied to Margrave.”
Dominic looked toward Feldman.
“Who has that account?”
Feldman answered.
“One person.”
“Name.”
Feldman finally said it.
“Sebastian Vale.”
Dominic froze.
I recognized the surname.
“Tomas Vale.”
His operations director.
Dominic looked stunned.
“Tomas is his son.”
Feldman nodded.
“And Sebastian?”
“Founder’s descendant. Current chairman of Margrave.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel was already searching.
Victoria whispered, “What does this mean?”
I understood before anyone answered.
Tomas had access to Dominic's operations.
Adrian’s credentials.
Port systems.
Legal documents.
Everything.
He was not merely an insider.
He had been planted.
Dominic called Tomas.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Adrian suddenly shouted through the phone.
“Dominic!”
A loud crash.
The line went silent.
“Adrian?”
Nothing.
Dominic’s expression changed.
He called again.
No answer.
Feldman looked genuinely alarmed.
“This wasn't part of my plan.”
I stared at him.
“That sentence should be carved onto your office door.”
Dominic moved toward the exit.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“To find Adrian.”
Feldman stepped forward.
“Then you're doing exactly what Sebastian wants.”
Dominic turned.
“And what does he want?”
“To separate you from the evidence.”
I looked down at Charles’s notebooks.
Then an idea struck.
“Maybe not.”
Everyone looked at me.
“Margrave has survived because everything stays hidden.”
“Yes,” Feldman said.
“So stop hiding.”
Dominic frowned.
“What?”
“Make the agreement public.”
Daniel looked horrified.
“It contains confidential corporate information.”
“Redact what matters.”
Feldman understood.
“Publish the conflicting clauses.”
“Yes.”
“And Charles’s notes.”
Victoria shook her head.
“Those involve my father.”
“They also involve people who depend on secrecy.”
Dominic stared at me.
“You want to drag this into public view.”
“Yes.”
“Press?”
“Academics first.”
Feldman almost laughed.
“Of course.”
“If twenty treaty scholars independently analyze the same clauses, Margrave can't make me disappear and claim I misunderstood.”
Dominic's expression darkened at the phrase make me disappear.
I continued.
“And if journalists receive copies, anyone trying to erase the evidence confirms the story.”
Daniel slowly nodded.
“It creates distributed custody.”
“Exactly.”
Feldman looked at me for a long time.
“What?”
I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
“This is the part I couldn't teach you.”
My anger softened by one degree.
“What part?”
“Knowing when law alone isn't enough.”
Dominic looked toward the notebooks.
Then at me.
“Do it.”
And just like that, we stopped trying to survive Margrave’s game.
We changed the rules.
But before Daniel could scan the first notebook, Dominic received a text.
A photograph.
Adrian.
Alive.
Sitting in a chair in an unknown room.
Beside him stood Tomas Vale.
The message read:
Bring Charles Whitmore’s notebooks to Pier 19 by midnight, or your CFO disappears with everything he knows.
Dominic stared at the screen.
Then at me.
And I knew exactly what he was going to say.
May you like
“No.”
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