The following morning, I woke with a deep ache in my wrist and a heavier burden in my heart. Marcus’s threat about Maya’s college fund, coupled with his physical aggression, left me feeling vulnerable and trapped. I hadn’t told Maya about the trust fund yet; the thought of crushing her dreams was unbearable.
Unbeknownst to me, Maya was already acting. She’d been quiet, almost too quiet, ever since the competency hearing. She’d seen the rage in Marcus’s eyes, the cold calculation.
She skipped her first two classes, her backpack unusually heavy. Instead of heading to school, she took the L train downtown, arriving at the imposing Dirksen Federal Building. The massive concrete structure seemed to hum with authority.
She walked directly to the information desk, her heart thumping against her ribs.
“I need to speak with Assistant US Attorney Jerome Beaufort,” she stated, her voice surprisingly steady. “It’s urgent. It’s about corporate fraud.”
The receptionist, a weary woman with tired eyes, looked skeptical. “Sweetheart, Mr. Beaufort is a very busy man. You can’t just walk in.”
“I have physical evidence,” Maya insisted, pulling out a small, crinkled envelope. “And digital files that implicate a major corporation in Chicago.”
She mentioned “Holloway Heritage & Asset Management Corp.” The receptionist’s demeanor changed subtly. She made a call.
A short while later, a young paralegal emerged, looking wary. She led Maya down a long, sterile corridor to a small, windowless office.
Jerome Beaufort entered a few minutes later. He was a man of quiet authority, his gaze sharp and intelligent. He wore a simple, well-maintained suit, no ostentation.
“Miss Gaines,” he said, his voice deep. “My assistant says you have something for me?”
Maya took a deep breath. She placed the pawn receipt, carefully retrieved from the chess queen, onto his desk.
“This,” she began, her voice gaining strength, “is a pawn receipt. Dated November 12, 2021. For my late father’s custom scientific instruments. Pawned by Marcus Holloway, my mother’s cousin, from Holloway Heritage Corp, on the very night my father died of a heart attack.”
Beaufort picked up the receipt, his brows furrowing as he read.
Then, Maya pulled out the flash drive she’d copied during Albert’s staged dizzy spell.
“And this,” she continued, “contains encrypted financial ledgers, deleted emails, and altered IT logs from Marcus Holloway’s hard drive. They show a pattern of corporate embezzlement, manipulation of company records, and systematic gaslighting of my mother.”
She laid out the entire story: the missing audit folders, the altered calendars, the attempts to discredit her mother. She explained the strange marriage proposal, the 1920 charter, the veto power.
Beaufort listened intently, his expression unreadable. He examined the metadata on the digital files, scrolled through the ledger entries. He spent a long time studying the pawn receipt.
“This,” he said finally, looking up at Maya, his eyes serious, “is quite a lot to take in.”
He leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen rhythmically on his desk.
“You understand the gravity of these accusations, Miss Gaines? This isn’t just a family dispute. This points to federal crimes.”
Maya met his gaze unflinchingly. “I know, sir. My mother is being targeted. My father… I think he was murdered.”
Beaufort closed the folder, his expression thoughtful. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Miss Gaines. We will look into this.”
Maya stood to leave, a sense of quiet hope warring with the fear of what she had unleashed. She had bypassed her mother, yes, but she knew this was the only way to truly fight Marcus.
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