My 28-Year-Old Co-Producer Handed Me Concealer to Cover the Bruise He Gave Me Before Filming — So I Used My Secret Trust to Expose His Mother's $340,000 Charity Theft
A week later, the anonymity of a bustling downtown diner provided the perfect cover. The clatter of plates and the murmur of conversations acted as white noise around our small booth. Ray Garrick, a man whose face seemed sculpted from granite, sat across from me. He wore a rumpled tweed jacket and had eyes that missed nothing.
“So, Ms. Albright,” he said, his voice a low rumble, “you want me to look into a prominent Hollywood family.”
I pushed a discreet envelope across the table. Inside were five crisp $1,000 bills. “This is for your retainer, Mr. Garrick.”
He picked up the envelope, his movements precise. “Cash. Smart.”
“I need discretion,” I said. “Complete discretion.”
I had funded this retainer from an account Julian knew nothing about. My digital music royalties, the ones I earned from licensing my original compositions to independent films and online content creators, flowed into a separate bank account tied to my birth name. Julian and the studio only ever saw the income from my acting and co-producing roles.
“My co-producer, Julian Kincaid, and his mother, Eleanor Kincaid,” I began, explaining the situation without embellishment. “They’ve taken physical control of my private recording studio. They believe it’s production property. It’s not. I own it outright through an LLC.”
Garrick nodded slowly, taking a sip of his lukewarm coffee. “And you believe there’s more to this than just a property dispute?”
“Eleanor runs a charity called the ‘Bright Future Youth Foundation’,” I said, leaning forward. “It’s heavily promoted on our show. They say it funds arts programs for underprivileged youth.”
“And you suspect foul play?” he prompted.
“I suspect they’re using the charity for something else. I want you to audit every business entity connected to Eleanor Kincaid. Every bank account, every shell company, every non-profit. Start with the Bright Future Youth Foundation.”
He scratched a note in a small, leather-bound pad. “That’s a wide net. It could get expensive.”
“I’m prepared for that,” I assured him. “Just follow the money. Find any discrepancies, any unusual transfers. I’m especially interested in anything that links the foundation to Eleanor’s personal accounts, or to Julian.”
“You want to know if they’re stealing from the kids,” Garrick stated, his gaze unwavering.
I nodded. “I want to know where the money is really going.”
He finished his coffee. “This kind of investigation takes time. Weeks, possibly months, depending on how deep they’ve buried things.”
“I don’t have months,” I admitted. “Our show is filming its season finale. I need answers as quickly as possible. Whatever you find, send it only to this encrypted email address.”
I wrote down the address on a napkin, then shredded the napkin after he copied it.
“I work fast,” Garrick said, a flicker of something in his eyes. “And I’m good at finding what people don’t want found.”
He folded the $5,000 carefully and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “Consider me retained, Ms. Albright. I’ll be in touch.”
As he stood to leave, he glanced around the diner. “Keep your head down. People like the Kincaids don’t like being investigated.”
I watched him merge into the lunchtime crowd, a quiet, efficient shadow. A sense of cautious hope, thin but steady, began to unfurl within me. The first real step toward fighting back had been taken.
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