My Cult-Leader Brother Called Me A Lowly Flu-Shot Nurse At Our Council Luncheon — Then A Two-Star General Saluted Me As Colonel
Caleb paced his office like a caged predator, shouting into his desk phone.
“Get Marcus Carver in here! Now! He needs to re-route Hannah’s frozen assets. I want that one hundred eighty thousand dollars in the primary tithe account before the feds even think about it.”
He hung up with a clang. A moment later, Marcus Carver, the cult’s senior financial auditor, scurried into the office, his face pale and slick with sweat. He clutched a stack of ledgers to his chest like a shield.
Security Chief Elijah Kincaid stood by the door, impassive as a statue, a silent observer of the unfolding drama. He had been called in by Caleb, ostensibly to ensure “security during a sensitive financial matter.”
“Carver, where are we with those ledger entries?” Caleb demanded, pointing a demanding finger at the auditor. “We need to make it look like Hannah owed us back pay. Quickly.”
Carver’s hands trembled as he laid the heavy books on the desk. “Mr. Finch, it’s… it’s more complicated than that. The numbers…”
“What numbers?” Caleb snarled. “Just move them. It’s a simple transfer. Hannah’s federal money. Make it blend into the cult’s general operating fund, like it always should have been.”
Carver’s eyes darted nervously to Elijah, then back to Caleb. He seemed to shrink under Caleb’s intense glare.
“But we can’t… we can’t cover the four point two million dollar shortfall from the syndicate’s escrow if we keep logging her flight pay as tithe revenue!” Carver blurted out, his voice cracking with panic. The words tumbled out, a desperate, raw admission.
A sudden, jarring silence fell over the room.
Caleb froze, his face going slack, then red with fury. He slowly turned his head to glare at Carver.
Elijah Kincaid, who had been leaning against the doorframe, straightened imperceptibly. His eyes widened, a flicker of something new and dangerous passing through them.
He heard it. The four point two million dollar shortfall. The syndicate’s escrow. Logging Hannah’s flight pay as tithe revenue.
It clicked into place for Elijah. Caleb wasn’t just freezing Hannah’s funds out of spite. He was actively laundering military funds through the cult’s non-profit accounts, using Hannah’s legitimate income as cover. And he was short millions from a deeper, more dangerous source.
Caleb recovered first. He lunged across the desk, grabbing Carver by the collar. “What did you just say?” he hissed, his voice low and menacing.
Carver whimpered, his eyes wide with terror, suddenly realizing his catastrophic slip of the tongue.
But it was too late. The secret was out. Elijah Kincaid had heard every word.
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