Chapter 11 - THE DEAN’S SECRET
Professor Hughes was still in the hospital when I confronted her.
A bandage covered the cut near her temple.
She dismissed the nurse and asked Agent Grant to close the door.
I placed the ledger on her blanket.
Her face changed when she saw it.
“You found Charles Bennett’s records.”
“I found your signature.”
She did not deny it.
“Eight hundred thousand dollars disappeared eleven years ago.”
“I signed the transfer.”
“Why?”
“Because your grandfather told me it was being moved into an emergency education fund.”
“There was no emergency fund.”
“I discovered that three months later.”
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him.”
“And?”
“He threatened to destroy the university.”
Professor Hughes explained that the Bennett Foundation funded laboratories, scholarships, and faculty positions.
If the money disappeared overnight, hundreds of employees could lose their jobs.
My grandfather promised to repay the transfer before the annual audit.
He did not.
When she tried to report him, my father produced evidence suggesting she had personally benefited from the transaction.
“He framed you too,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why did you stay silent?”
“Cowardice.”
Her answer came without hesitation.
“I told myself I was protecting the university.”
“But you were protecting yourself.”
“Yes.”
I expected excuses.
Her honesty made me angrier.
“Thirty-two students lost scholarships.”
“I know.”
“One of them slept in her car.”
“I know.”
“You watched my father accuse me today.”
“And I decided I would not remain silent again.”
I opened the ledger.
“The final page is missing.”
Professor Hughes stared at the torn edge.
“What was on it?”
“A list of beneficiaries.”
“People who received the stolen money?”
“People your father bought.”
“Judges?”
“Judges, university trustees, investigators, and business executives.”
“Do you know where the page is?”
She nodded slowly.
“Your grandfather gave it to a lawyer.”
“Which lawyer?”
“Samuel Cross.”
The name was familiar.
Samuel had handled my grandfather’s estate.
He had also disappeared from public life after a supposed car accident five years earlier.
“Samuel is dead,” I said.
“No.”
Professor Hughes lowered her voice.
“He entered witness protection.”
Agent Grant stepped closer.
“How do you know that?”
“Because I helped him contact federal investigators.”
The room went silent.
My father had spent years presenting himself as untouchable.
But if Samuel Cross was alive, someone had been investigating the Bennett family long before I found Northbridge.
Professor Hughes continued.
“Samuel kept copies of the final page and the original trust documents.”
“What trust documents?”
“The ones proving Charles Bennett left fifty-one percent of Bennett Technologies to you.”
I stared at her.
“My mother said my inheritance was stolen.”
“Your father forged an amendment to the trust.”
“Why would my grandfather leave the company to me?”
“Because he knew Richard would destroy it.”
The irony almost made me laugh.
My grandfather had stolen scholarship money, yet he had distrusted my father.
Maybe corruption did not create loyalty.
Maybe it only created fear.
Agent Grant’s phone rang.
She listened for several seconds.
Then she turned toward me.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Your father has filed an emergency petition declaring you legally incompetent.”
I felt the room tilt.
“He cannot do that.”
“He has submitted medical records, witness statements, and a request for control of your intellectual property.”
Professor Hughes looked horrified.
Agent Grant continued.
“The hearing is tomorrow morning.”
My father did not need to prove I cheated anymore.
May you like
He only needed a judge to declare that I was incapable of controlling my own work.
And according to the ledger, he had spent years buying judges.
