The sting of the bank statement was still fresh when Lily started fussing. She was hungry, and the small packet of crackers wouldn’t be enough. I needed milk.
I found a coffee stand near Gate B12, the smell of roasted beans a brief distraction from the churning in my gut. I cradled Lily, bouncing her gently as I waited in line.
“Just milk, please,” I said to the barista, pointing to a small carton.
As I reached for my wallet, a man in a rumpled suit bumped into me from behind. “Oh, apologies, ma’am!” he exclaimed, steadying me with a hand on my arm.
I turned, and my eyes locked with a familiar face. Elias Burke. The former bookkeeper for the Oakhaven Community Trust. He was usually meticulous, almost obsessively so, but today his tie was crooked, and his briefcase looked heavy, almost overstuffed.
“Elias?” I asked, surprise momentarily eclipsing my panic. “What are you doing here?”
He blinked, a flicker of recognition, then a cloud of guilt crossed his face. “Clara! Goodness, what a coincidence.” He looked around nervously, as if expecting someone to overhear.
“I’m… heading to Denver for a consulting gig,” he stammered, adjusting his glasses. “But, I saw the news. About Oakhaven. About you and… the general.”
He glanced at Lily, then back at me, his eyes filled with an unreadable mix of pity and discomfort. He lowered his voice. “Clara, I… I need to tell you something.”
He ushered me away from the busy counter, toward a quieter seating area. Lily, sensing my tension, snuggled closer.
“Lucas… he fired me,” Elias said, his voice barely a whisper. “Two weeks ago. When I wouldn’t… wouldn’t cooperate with his ‘adjustments’ to the choir fund ledgers.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Adjustments? What are you talking about?”
He wrung his hands, his gaze fixed on a distant boarding announcement. “He was funneling money. From the Oakhaven Community Choir fund. He had a massive debt, Clara. To Arthur Knox.”
My breath hitched. Arthur Knox. Everyone in Oakhaven knew the name. Owner of Oakhaven Commercial Hauling, whispered to be the local syndicate boss, the man you absolutely did *not* cross.
“A debt?” I repeated, my voice hollow. “How much?”
Elias finally met my eyes, his face etched with grim relief, as if a great weight had been lifted just by speaking the words. “Sixty-five thousand dollars. He diverted it, Clara. Made it look like your tailoring business was responsible for the missing funds.”
Sixty-five thousand dollars. My $18,400 had seemed devastating, but this… this was an entirely different scale of betrayal. Not just against me, but against the entire community. And involving Arthur Knox? That changed everything.
The milk carton slipped from my grasp, landing silently on the carpet. Elias didn’t even notice. He was still staring at me, a silent plea for forgiveness in his eyes.
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