Chapter 6 - The Trap and the Betrayal
Three weeks later, the trap was sprung.
Thomas was working late in the design studio, surrounded by physical models of the riverfront hotel, when the door burst open. Two corporate security officers entered, followed by Julian Vance and a pair of plainclothes Chicago police detectives.
"Thomas Bennett," Julian said, his voice dripping with false disappointment. "I suggest you step away from the desk."
Thomas stood up, holding a mechanical pencil, his heart hammering. "Mr. Vance? What’s going on?"
"An audit of the Riverfront Phase 1 account was completed this afternoon, Thomas," Julian said, displaying a tablet with banking records. "It appears that $250,000 intended for the structural concrete contracts was wired directly into a personal checking account belonging to a Ruth Bennett. The transfer came from your corporate computer terminal using your private digital signature."
Thomas went completely pale. "What? That’s impossible! I never authorized that transfer! I don't even have access to that level of the foundation fund!"
"The digital logs don't lie, son," one of the detectives said, stepping forward with a pair of handcuffs. "We have a warrant for your arrest for corporate grand larceny."
As they led Thomas out of the building in handcuffs, Julian Vance immediately drove to Harold’s private residence in Lake Forest. He found the old man sitting in his study, drinking tea with Ruth, who was showing him a new angel carving she had made for the hotel lobby.
"Harold, I am so sorry to bring you this news," Julian said, bursting into the room, his face looking perfectly distressed. He laid out the forged financial documents on the table. "Thomas has been arrested. He’s been stealing from the foundation, transferring the money to Ruth's accounts to buy back their old family farm in Joliet."
Ruth gasped, dropping her wooden angel onto the carpet. "No! My Thomas would never steal! He is an honest boy!"
Harold stared at the banking documents. His eyes were wide, looking at Thomas's digital signature. For a moment, the old man looked incredibly old, his shoulders sagging as if the ghost of winter had finally caught up with him.
"Julian," Harold whispered, his voice trembling. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"
"The police have already locked him in the precinct, Harold," Julian said, placing a comforting hand on the billionaire's shoulder. "I told you from the beginning—you can take the boy out of the dirt, but you can't take the dirt out of the boy. They used your guilt to exploit you."
Ruth fell to her knees, grasping Harold’s hand. "Harold, please believe me! We didn't do this! We don't want your money, we never did!"
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Harold looked down at Ruth, then up at Julian. His face went completely unreadable, a cold, hard mask that Julian took for grief.
"Julian," Harold said quietly. "Call a full press conference at the Whitmore Grand lobby tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. I will address the public regarding the future of the Bennett fellowship and the leadership of this company."
