Chapter 4 - THE DIRECTOR’S PANICDirector Henderson finally caught up, panting and sweating profusely. “Oh, Mr. Vance, please forgive her! She’s... well, Lily has a bit of an independent streak. We are currently trying to place her with a specialized facility, but—well, you understand the constraints of a charity home—malfunctions, funding gaps—”
Julian turned his head slowly toward Henderson. The look in the billionaire's eyes was so terrifying that Henderson took an involuntary step back.
“Mr. Henderson,” Julian said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register. “How long has this child been sitting in a wheelchair with a taped cushion?”
“I—I don't keep track of the inventory—”
“How long?” Julian’s voice cracked like a whip.
“Two... two years,” Henderson stammered, sweating through his collar. “We requisitioned a new chair from the state board six months ago, but the budget got redirected to the administrative wing—”
“You spent state funds meant for disabled children on an administrative wing?” Julian’s voice was dangerously calm. He pulled out a sleek platinum phone from his coat pocket. “Connect me to my legal team. I want a complete forensic audit of St. Jude’s Children’s Home by Monday morning. Every ledger, every receipt, every cent.”
“Mr. Vance! Please! You can’t do that! We’re a non-profit!” Henderson shrieked, panic overriding his common sense.
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“I own the bank that holds your mortgage, Henderson,” Julian said coldly, sliding his phone away. “I can foreclose on this building before lunch, turn it into a parking lot, and scatter you and your corrupt staff to the winds. Do not test me.”
Lily watched the exchange, her gray-blue eyes wide. For the first time all day, a tiny spark of hope flickered inside her chest.
