“He also recorded conversations.”
That did it.
Blake’s composure cracked.
“Stop.”
The word came too quickly.
Too loudly.
Everyone heard it.
Ethan stared at him.
Blake lowered his voice.
“You need to stop talking.”
“Why?”
“You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“I understand exactly what I’m doing.”
Blake glanced around.
“This isn’t the place.”
Ethan almost smiled.
“Five minutes ago, you seemed very interested in making this place an audience.”
Someone near the pool whispered, “Oh my God.”
Natalie stepped away from Blake.
He noticed.
“Natalie.”
“Don’t.”
“You don’t know what this is.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t explain something that isn’t true.”
She pointed toward Ethan’s phone.
“You were photographed giving cash to the inspector who approved the building where three men died.”
Blake’s voice dropped.
“Natalie, listen to me.”
“No.”
“Natalie.”
“No.”
She took another step backward.
Then Ethan said something nobody expected.
“The bribe isn’t the secret.”
Silence.
Even Blake looked confused.
Ethan turned his phone back toward himself.
Natalie whispered, “What do you mean?”
Ethan looked at Blake.
“Tell her.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed.
“Tell her what?”
“Why you were really paying Ross.”
“I wasn’t.”
Ethan tapped another image.
Blake saw it.
And whatever remained of his confidence vanished.
He lunged.
Ethan stepped back.
Two guests moved between them.
“Easy!”
Blake struggled against them.
“Give me the phone!”
Natalie stared.
“What’s in the picture?”
Ethan turned the screen toward her.
It was a close-up of a structural engineering report.
Several lines were highlighted.
Natalie read them.
Her brow furrowed.
Then she saw the signature at the bottom.
Her expression collapsed.
“No.”
She grabbed the phone.
“No, no, no.”
Blake stopped fighting.
Natalie enlarged the signature.
DR. SAMUEL MERCER, P.E.
Her father.
The crowd didn’t understand.
Ethan did.
“Your father was the independent structural engineer hired to review Meridian Point after the first failed inspection.”
Natalie’s eyes filled with tears.
“My father died last year.”
“I know.”
“He had a heart attack.”
Ethan said nothing.
Natalie looked at him.
Something in his silence terrified her.
“What?”
Ethan lowered his voice.
“Your father refused to approve the structure.”
Natalie stared at Blake.
Blake shook his head.
“Don’t listen to him.”
Ethan continued.
“Samuel Mercer documented serious defects. He recommended stopping construction.”
Natalie’s breathing became shallow.
“But construction didn’t stop.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Ethan looked at Blake.
“Because someone replaced his report.”
Natalie’s face crumpled.
Blake stepped toward her.
“Nat, this is insane.”
She backed away.
“Did you forge my father’s signature?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No!”
Ethan interrupted.
“He didn’t.”
Everyone turned toward him.
Even Blake seemed surprised.
Ethan took the phone back.
“Blake didn’t forge it.”
Natalie wiped at her cheek.
“Then who did?”
Ethan looked toward the private cabanas at the opposite end of the pool.
For the first time that evening, fear appeared on his face.
Not fear of Blake.
Fear of what came next.
“His father.”
The crowd turned.
Standing beneath the cabana entrance was Charles Harrington.
Sixty-three.
Silver-haired.
Perfectly tailored navy suit.
Founder and chairman of Harrington Urban Holdings.
Billionaire.
Philanthropist.
Blake’s father.
The man whose photograph appeared in business magazines, hospital wings, university buildings, and charity galas throughout Florida.
He had been watching.
No one knew for how long.
Charles walked toward them slowly.
Guests moved aside.
He stopped beside his son.
“What’s happening?”
Blake answered immediately.
“Some lunatic is harassing me.”
Charles looked at Ethan.
Then at the phone.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then Charles recognized Ethan.
And Ethan knew.
