CHAPTER 31 #2
The rest caught in my throat. Bernie waited, gentle, patient, the way he always did. “Then this matters for more than just land,” he said.
My silence was answer enough.
Bernie rose slowly, like a man who’d stood up to ghosts before and was facing another. He disappeared into a drawer and rummaged through it, returning with a folded slip of paper. I recognized the look on his face…this was the last thing he’d held on to when he’d already lost everything.
He sat, placed it between us, but didn’t push it forward until he’d spoken, explaining how systems at Skoll layered over one another, where clearance hid beneath clearance, how digital walls were only minor inconveniences meant to deter.
His access might open a crack, or it might already be dead.
He wasn’t sure. Either way, it was all he had left to offer.
When he finally pressed it into my hand, his fingers lingered, a silent plea: Be careful.
And I realized there was nothing else I needed.
If I don’t do this, then Jonathan will have been right about me.
And I refuse to let Graymore and Erik Skoll define who I am.
The next afternoon, I went into the office, even though it was a Saturday.
I often pulled late nights, and wasn’t a stranger to weekends at my desk, so it wouldn’t have sparked any suspicion.
Just to cover my tracks, I even went in a little earlier, even though I’d need to wait until the evening when I was certain most of the building would be cleared out.
There was a backlog of work waiting for me after all the time I had missed. Nothing critical that couldn’t wait, but enough to keep me tethered to my desk until dusk.
By the time I stood up from my desk, my body stiff, there was no one left on my floor. Adrienne from Compliance had been the last to leave. Down the hall, I heard the distant squeak of the custodian’s cart, his earbuds in, whistling softly as he worked.
I left my desk. My breathing was tight and shallow. I went deep into the building, away from the familiar routes, toward places I had no business being in. Every so often, I looked over my shoulder and tried to avoid cameras where I knew they’d be.
A shift had taken place within me. Resolve.
Skoll had taught me how to be invisible. Years of anticipating moods, reading silences, knowing when not to be seen. I used it all now.
The security cameras were small black eyes in the ceiling easy to ignore on a normal day…tonight they felt carnivorous. I kept my chin down, my face angled away, the way I had learned without ever consciously deciding to.
The executive floor was eerily quieter than the rest of the building. The air felt refrigerated. I signed into a computer terminal I wasn’t authorized to use with credentials I absolutely shouldn’t have had.
My hands shook as the interface loaded, so hard my fingers slipped once on the keys. I wiped them on my jeans, pulse hammering at my throat. Jonathan’s voice cut through—Nothing good comes from Graymore. And yet here I was, trying to prove otherwise.
I followed Bernie’s instructions precisely, typing the sequence slowly, terrified a typo would somehow set off alarms.
…And there it was.
A skeletal internal profile buried three layers deep in Skoll’s private asset-management system that was flagged Restricted.
The files unfolded slowly, layered inside one another like a puzzle designed to frustrate anyone who didn’t know what they were looking for. But Bernie had given me the solution.
As each layer opened, a quiet electric hum drifted above me—a fluorescent light waking, then dimming again. It felt like the building itself was breathing down my neck.
Polaris Equity had been quietly acquiring land for over a decade…purchases through proxy firms, conservation trusts, and shell-owned LLCs. Parcels adjacent to protected forest. Parcels near watershed boundaries. Parcels flagged as low immediate value but high future yield.
Graymore Renewable Futures Initiative, the header read.
A hydroelectric dam project. Small-scale, they claimed. Framed as green, sustainable, and future-forward. A “run-of-river” installation designed to minimize disruption while providing long-term clean energy for Graymore and surrounding districts.
The map expanded when I clicked it. Boundaries had shifted. Adjacent parcels were highlighted.
It overlapped parts of Juniper Woods. Of Foley’s land…Jonathan’s land. The Hollow.
Jonathan’s face flashed—his eyes going cold in front of the fountain, stepping back from me like I was poison. My breath hitched so hard my vision blurred. I blinked fast. Focus.
My throat tightened.
I scrolled. The earliest documents were dated over a decade ago.
The project had been initiated under Eldritch Skoll.
Formal. Lawful. A letter to Foley Wolfe requesting a conversation as a preliminary inquiry.
Foley had refused. Eldritch hadn’t pushed.
Notes marked Declined. No pressure. No follow-up.
Then Erik’s name appeared, and everything changed.
Under Erik’s leadership, the initiative was reclassified.
Accelerated. It had been folded into Polaris Equity’s long-term-growth strategy.
The dam project was less about energy and more about leverage, power, and control.
It forced landholders into “voluntary compliance” through rising taxes, permit blackouts, and regulatory suffocation.
I felt sick.
Somewhere behind me, I heard footsteps. A pause. A door latch clicking. I froze, breath caged painfully in my ribs until silence returned.
The proposal was scheduled to appear on the next county ballot. The land would be acquired quietly beforehand. Resistance would come too late, I realized.
That was when I stumbled upon Bernie’s name. A buried memo. Unsent. Draft only. Bernard Hale.
Senior Operations Liaison. Infrastructure Oversight. Legacy Compliance and Access.
He’d flagged discrepancies. Asked questions. Requested ethics review.
But nothing happened. No response came from the board. No follow-ups.
Bernie had seen it all and never said a word in the lobby…not because he didn’t trust me, but because he cared about me. Because this information would have burned me.
Bernie had chosen peace…and silence.
“Oh, Bernie,” I whispered, staring at the screen.
I imagined him in Erik’s office. Calm. Tired. Saying something careful. Saying, This isn’t what Skoll was built for. This isn’t the legacy your father built.
Even though he wouldn’t have threatened anyone, I knew Bernie would’ve never looked away from Erik as he said it all.
Erik didn’t need secrets to destroy someone. He had reach. He had enough power to freeze accounts, bury references, and make an old man’s final years unbearable.
Cruel bastard, I thought.
I began the download. A progress bar crept across the screen—1%…7%…19%. My lungs barely worked. Each second felt agonizing.
With shaking fingers, I initiated the mirror transfer—an automated encrypted duplicate set to dispatch to a dead inbox at midnight if I didn’t cancel it.
Evidence that could not be burned, even if I was.
Bernie had set it all up overnight and we’d gone over what I needed to do multiple times until I felt confident.
The numbers crawled—54%…68%…76%. The cursor blinked like a pulse.
A soft mechanical whir grew louder behind the server room door. Someone was nearby. My palms went slick. I hovered over the escape key, ready to run.
93%… 97%…
100%.
Relief exploded inside my ribs. When it was done, I closed the files quickly and swallowed hard, wiping my sweaty hands on my jeans again.
I stood—quiet, defiant, and, most importantly, proud. This will bring down Skoll for good, I knew. Jonathan will know I had nothing to do with this.
But then I heard it…
The unmistakable click of the door followed by a familiar voice.
“My, Blanchette…what big eyes you have.”