Chapter 7: Sarah’s Reluctance

My legs felt like lead as I walked over to Sarah Chen’s table.

She was just zipping up her laptop bag, her attention focused elsewhere.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice coming out a little hoarse.

Sarah looked up, her expression politely questioning.

Her eyes, I noticed up close, were intensely perceptive.

“I… I couldn’t help but overhear,” I began, fumbling for the right words.

“You mentioned Veridian Holdings.”

Sarah’s polite expression hardened slightly.

She didn’t speak, just waited, her gaze unwavering.

“My name is Lily Jensen,” I continued, pushing past my nervousness.

“My grandmother, Eleanor Oakhaven, runs the Oakhaven Community Center. And she just took out a loan from Veridian Holdings.”

A flicker of interest, quickly masked, crossed Sarah’s face.

“And you have concerns about this loan?” she asked, her tone neutral, professional.

“More than concerns,” I said, pulling out the USB drive.

“It’s a predatory loan. And I think my uncle, Arthur Finch, is behind it. He’s been siphoning off funds for fake renovations, ensuring the center will default.”

I quickly explained about the burner phone receipt, the early email from the aggressive developer, and Arthur’s recent “Oakhaven Renewal Project” announcement.

I laid out the core of my suspicions, hoping she’d see the connection immediately.

Sarah listened patiently, her expression unreadable.

She picked up the USB drive, turning it over in her fingers.

“These are serious accusations, Ms. Jensen,” she said finally, her voice calm.

“And your uncle is Arthur Finch?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, my hands clasped tightly.

“He’s Eleanor’s nephew. He presented himself as a benefactor, a partner.”

Sarah leaned back in her chair, her gaze distant for a moment.

“Arthur Finch is a well-known local businessman,” she mused, more to herself than to me.

“Has a reputation for being shrewd, yes, but not… overtly fraudulent in the way you’re describing.”

“He just held a press conference announcing a huge development project,” I pressed, “and he basically put my grandmother on blast, implying she’s holding up the town’s progress if she doesn’t sell him the center’s land for a fraction of its value.”

A slight frown creased Sarah’s brow.

“I saw the coverage for ‘The Oakhaven Renewal Project,'” she admitted.

“It certainly sounds ambitious. But what you’re describing sounds like a family dispute escalating into a nasty business deal.”

“It’s not just a family dispute,” I insisted, my voice rising slightly.

“It’s financial fraud. He’s trying to steal her property.”

“Ms. Jensen,” Sarah said, holding up a hand, “I understand you’re upset. But my current investigation is far broader than a single property dispute.”

She paused, her expression becoming more measured.

“I’m looking into a network of shell corporations, systemic predatory lending, and a pattern of asset acquisition that spans several counties. It’s a massive story, potentially involving very powerful people.”

Her words were a polite dismissal, reinforcing my isolation.

The profound scope of her work made my small, personal battle seem insignificant.

“But Veridian Holdings is involved!” I argued, desperation creeping into my voice.

“You just said so yourself. Arthur is using them.”

“Veridian Holdings is a common player in these schemes,” Sarah explained, her tone becoming slightly dismissive.

“It’s often used as a convenient front. But unless Arthur Finch is actually the one controlling Veridian, or is a major player in this broader consortium, it doesn’t fit my current narrative.”

She looked at me, a hint of professional sympathy in her eyes, but also a firm boundary.

“I need something concrete that links your uncle directly to the inner workings of Veridian Holdings. Something that proves he’s not just a local businessman trying to cut a shady deal, but an integral part of this larger fraudulent operation.”

She picked up the USB drive.

“I’ll take a look at what you have here, out of professional courtesy. But I can’t promise anything.”

She stood up, her intention to leave clear.

“Unless Arthur is Veridian,” Sarah said, her voice echoing Maya’s earlier warning, “it’s not my story.”

She walked away, leaving me alone at the table, the small USB drive now clutched in my hand.

The brief surge of hope withered and died, replaced by a cold, familiar despair.

I had found the thread, but I hadn’t found the knot.

I needed to prove Arthur was Veridian.

I needed to prove that the man who had casually thrown away Eleanor’s cherished memories, the man who had publicly shamed me, was also the architect of this vast, systemic fraud.

Otherwise, Eleanor’s beloved community center, and her peace of mind, were doomed.