We appreciate your cooperation, but for the record, did you or did you not sign any financial authorization during your tenure at Northbridge Investments that could have facilitated these transfers? Ethan spoke steadily. No, Senator. Any signatures attached to those transactions were digitally forged.
The forensic evidence confirms that. Caldwell nodded gravely, pretending to absorb the answer. And yet, he continued.
You were CEO during this period. Is it possible that negligence on your part allowed these crimes to occur? Jennifer stiffened. Torres’ jaw tightened.
Ethan inhaled slowly. Senator, I accept responsibility for the environment Greg operated in. I trusted him.
That was my failure. But negligence and conspiracy are not the same thing. I didn’t profit from this.
I lost everything. A ripple passed through the room, some sympathetic, some skeptical. Caldwell shifted in his chair.
Losses are regrettable, Mr. Walker. But public confidence demands accountability. Our constituents deserve to know if this was the act of one criminal or the symptom of systemic greed.
Ethan met his gaze. With respect, Senator, that’s exactly what I’m trying to expose. This wasn’t one man’s crime.
It was a culture of entitlement, protected by influence. Greg Sanders was just the face of it. That answer hung in the air like the toll of a bell.
Cameras clicked. Someone coughed. After the session ended, Jennifer caught up with Ethan in the hallway.
You just made enemies, she said. Maybe, Ethan replied. But I told the truth.
Truth, she muttered. Doesn’t pay campaign bills. That night, they reconvened at the safe house.
Loretta had cooked a pot of stew that filled the air with warmth and spice. Anna sat at the table coloring, humming softly to herself. For the first time in weeks, Ethan smiled.
How’d the big talk go? Loretta asked. Ethan shrugged. They listened.
Pretended to. At least. But the room was thick.
With people who’d rather keep things quiet. Loretta ladled stew into bowls. That’s always how it starts.
Big folks don’t want trouble till the trouble finds them. Anna looked up. Are the bad guys gone now? Ethan hesitated.
Some are, he said gently. But some are still hiding. Anna nodded, as if that was just part of life.
Then we keep going. That’s what Mama said when we were scared. Jennifer watched the exchange, her expression softening.
She’s right, she said. We keep going. Later, after Anna had gone to bed, Klein turned on the television.
The evening news was already dissecting the hearings. A panel of commentators debated whether Ethan Walker was a whistleblower or a convenient distraction. One pundit, with a smirk that made Ethan’s stomach twist, suggested he had engineered the scandal to rebuild his brand.
Klein switched it off. They’ll spin it every which way, doesn’t change the facts. Ethan leaned back.
Sometimes it feels like the facts don’t matter anymore. Jennifer closed her laptop. That’s why we make them matter.
If they bury this story in politics, we’ll take it to the people. Klein rubbed his beard thoughtfully. There’s someone who might help with that.
An old friend of mine from my bureau days, Ellis Parker. He runs a small investigative foundation now, independent funding, hates corruption more than he loves breathing. If anyone can keep this story alive without political interference, it’s him.
Ethan looked intrigued. Would he even take the meeting? Klein smiled faintly. He owes me a favor.
He’ll take it. The next morning, they drove to a brick office building near Arlington. Inside, Ellis Parker was waiting.
He was in his 60s, tall and wiry, with the look of a man who’d seen too much and regretted none of it. Klein, he said, shaking hands firmly. You don’t show up unless someone’s bleeding or righteous, sometimes both.
Klein grinned. Both. This time, Ethan introduced himself, and Ellis gave him a long, assessing look.
You’re the one who burned down a billionaire’s empire on live television. I didn’t burn it down, Ethan replied. It was already burning.
I just opened the windows. Ellis laughed, a low, approving sound. Good answer.
Let’s see if you’ve got the stomach for what comes next. He led them into a back room cluttered with files and old headlines. The fallout from your case is bigger than you think, he said, spreading documents across the table.
Sanders wasn’t acting alone. He was part of a network lobbyists, offshore trusts, political financiers. They used tech firms like yours to launder money through clean investments.
You were the perfect scapegoat because you had visibility. Ethan felt a slow chill creep down his spine. You’re saying there’s more? I’m saying this is only one head of a hydra, Ellis replied.
We’ve traced connections to federal contracts, infrastructure deals, even charity foundations that don’t exist. The deeper we dig, the more rot we find, Jennifer exhaled. How do we fight something that big? Ellis looked at her.
You don’t fight it. You expose it. Piece by piece.
Sunlight’s the only disinfectant we’ve got. For the first time in days, Ethan felt the faint flicker of purpose rather than fear. He looked at Jennifer, then at Klein.
Then let’s get to work. Over the next week, the group transformed the safe house into a command center. Ellis’s team of data analysts cross-referenced files from the Sanders case with corporate records and campaign donations.
Patterns began to form money flowing like a river beneath the surface of respectable names. At night, Ethan and Jennifer reviewed reports while Anna drew pictures on the floor beside them. Houses, stars, a man and a girl holding hands.
She labeled them carefully, me and Mr. E. One evening, as Jennifer worked, she looked at Ethan. You realize this makes you a target again, she said quietly. He smiled, tired but resolute.
I’ve been a target since the day Greg stole my name. At least this time, I get to choose the fight. Outside, sirens wailed faintly in the distance.
The city slept, but for the first time, Ethan didn’t feel powerless against it. He had allies, he had a mission, and somewhere deep in the machinery of corruption that had nearly destroyed him, something had started to crack. Far away, in a marble office lit by cold fluorescent light, a congressman received a phone call from an unknown number.
The voice on the line was calm, measured, and unmistakably dangerous. Walker’s not done, it said. He’s digging again.
A pause, then… Handle it quietly. The rain came again, soft but relentless, drumming against the windows of the safe house as if reminding everyone inside that peace was temporary. It had been ten days since Ellis Parker joined them, and already the place hummed with tension and quiet purpose.
Stacks of papers, maps, and flash drives covered every flat surface. Coffee mugs multiplied like nervous habits. Ethan sat by the window, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low.
Yes, I understand, but if the committee delays again, Greg’s appeal goes through before they can unseal the rest of the files. Torres’s voice crackled through the line. I’m aware, Walker.
There’s pressure from above to review procedural integrity. It’s politics slow, and ugly. You’re making powerful enemies.
I already had those, Ethan said. Now I just know their names. He hung up and stared out into the rain.
The skyline beyond looked blurred, as if the world itself didn’t want to be clear about where it stood. Behind him, Jennifer typed furiously. I’ve connected the shell accounts Ellis mentioned, she said.
They route through a law firm in Delaware and end up funding political action committees across both parties. Greg wasn’t laundering just for himself, he was keeping the system greased. Ellis nodded grimly.
I’ve seen this before. They keep a few bad apples visible to distract from the orchard that’s rotten underneath. Loretta appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.
Then it sounds like you’re going after the whole orchard, sugar. Y’all better plant something better when it’s over. Anna sat cross-legged on the floor, coloring a picture of the bridge where she’d met Ethan…
