11. Rowan
ROWAN
Harper hands me a fresh stack of donor cards before I finish with the first one.
We've been at the Blackthorne reception for forty minutes, and wealthy boosters will discuss almost anything if you stand beside expensive food and phrase your questions as admiration.
Harper and I have worked opposite sides of the room while Erik stays near Richard Caldwell with three trustees.
Before Harper reaches me, I spend ten minutes with a booster who funded two football camps and still thinks he paid for field rentals.
His invoice says event production, but the facilities code at the bottom matches one of Dad's ledger entries.
I photograph the card after he leaves and add the code to my notes.
The same money keeps changing names depending on who's looking at it.
A second donor remembers approving equipment purchases during recruitment weekends because he was told the athletic department needed temporary gear for visiting prospects.
His invoices went through facilities too.
When I ask whether he ever questioned that, he looks offended by the suggestion that a seven-figure donation should come with homework.
Harper joins me beside a cocktail table and opens the notes on her phone. "Two boosters remember the summer combines getting much more expensive three years ago. Neither knows why."
"I have an equipment donor who thought the invoices were absurd and signed them anyway. He says facilities handled the contract."
Harper looks past me toward a compliance assistant near the terrace. "That makes three people who've used the word facilities."
"That's enough to ask again." I start across the room, then stop when Harper catches my sleeve.
"She's had several drinks." Harper releases me. "You're not calling that investigative technique."
"I was going to call it timing."
"That's worse."
The compliance assistant is Jenna Morris. I remember her from an eligibility panel last year, and she recognizes my name before I finish introducing myself.
"I can't discuss an active compliance review." Jenna checks the room before taking another sip of wine.
"I'm not asking you to." I keep my tone conversational rather than giving her a reason to shut down. "I'm trying to understand the approval path. Summer camps are athletic events, but several donors say the invoices ran through facilities."
"They did after the package contract changed." Jenna turns her glass on the table. "Facilities already handled equipment, temporary structures, cleaning crews, and event setup. Once the event company bundled everything, facilities approved the invoice."
I work through the sequence. "Who approved the package contract itself?"
Jenna shifts closer to the table. "Athletics recommended the vendor. Facilities signed the service agreement. Financial administration only saw the total once the invoices reached the payment stage."
That puts Dad later in the process than the public records suggest. "His signature came after two other approvals."
"Yes." Jenna glances toward the ballroom, where an associate athletic director is talking to two trustees. "Your father wasn't choosing the vendor. He was authorizing payment against an agreement that was already in place."
I write that down immediately. "Who signed for facilities?"
"There were two people with authority depending on the amount." Jenna gives me one name I recognize from the public contracts and another I don't. "The larger invoices needed the vice president's approval."
"Did anyone question why athletic events were being paid from facilities?"
"Constantly. The answer was always that bundled events crossed departments, so the accounting was cleaner that way."
Cleaner for whoever wanted the money to cross departments before it reached Dad's desk. "Did the totals reconcile?"
"They always did eventually." Jenna glances toward Richard. "Money moved out of athletics before it came back through facilities. People complained about the accounting, but by month-end, the numbers matched."
I frown. "Who told them they matched?"
She hesitates. "I don't remember."
I could push and probably lose everything else she might tell me. Instead, I step back. "You've answered what I needed."
Jenna stops me before I turn away. "If you're looking at old camp invoices, you should check the company that bundled them. The vendor changed before the accounting did."
The name she gives me appears twice in Aaron's margin notes.
Harper finds me a few minutes later. I give her the vendor name and the new approval path, and she adds both to our offline notes.
"Athletics recommends the vendor, facilities signs the contract, and financial administration approves the payment." Harper turns the phone so I can see the sequence. "Your dad appears at the end again."
"That means somebody had at least two opportunities to manipulate the transaction before it reached him."
Harper studies the vendor name. "It also explains how Orell could make Jeremy look responsible. If facilities paid the invoice, somebody could move money outside athletics before he ever saw the total."
I add the two facilities names Jenna gave me. "Whoever approved the bundled contract had access earlier in the chain. We need the original contracts, including amendments, and I don't want the only copies coming from Blackthorne's servers."
Harper slips her phone into her bag. "That's useful enough for one night. We don't need to interrogate every donor before dessert."
"I wasn't planning to."
She seems skeptical. "You were looking at the trustee table."
I glance at the trustees again. "They look informative."
"They look old and rich." Harper starts toward the ballroom. "Try not to get banned from another university room while I'm gone."
"I haven't been banned from any university rooms."
She smirks. "Yet." She disappears into the crowd before I can answer.
I move toward the terrace to get away from the ballroom noise and think through the facilities sequence.
The night air is cool enough to clear some of the heat from my face after two hours inside a crowded reception.
I've barely reached the railing when Tyler Garcia pushes away from it. "You've been avoiding me."
"I've been working." I stop several feet away rather than join him at the railing.
"Same result." Tyler lifts his drink and lowers it again. "You ignored the flowers."
"I never received them."
His amusement fades. "Danilov threw them away." He says it like a statement rather than a question. "Bastard."
"You should discuss floral disposal with him."
"I'd rather discuss dinner with you." Tyler closes some of the distance between us. "One dinner. No dean, no investigation, and no audience."
"I'm not interested."
Tyler looks through the glass toward the ballroom. Erik stands beside Richard, although he isn't watching the trustee speaking to him anymore. He's watching us.
Tyler notices too. "He doesn't get a say in who you date."
"You're right. I'm the only one who does." I shift sideways so I'm not boxed against the railing.
Tyler follows the movement rather than taking the hint. "I want one chance."
I stare at him coolly. "I already answered. No."
He puts his hand on my waist. I'm reaching for his wrist when Erik crosses the terrace.
He catches Tyler's arm and removes his hand from me. "You'll take your hand off her and walk away."
Tyler looks down at Erik's grip. "You already handled the first part."
Erik releases him. "Then manage the second."
Tyler turns toward me as though I'm supposed to smooth over what just happened. I'm angry at him for touching me after I said no and angry at Erik for making himself the center of the response. "You should go, Tyler."
Tyler studies me for a second, sets his drink on the railing, and leaves.
The nearest conversations migrate with him. Nobody openly watches us, but everyone close enough to have heard suddenly discovers another part of the terrace.
By tomorrow, half the donors in this building will remember Tyler touching me, while the other half will remember Erik making him stop. Very few will remember that I refused Tyler before Erik crossed the terrace.
That's what bothers me. My answer has already become a footnote to Erik's reaction.
I turn toward him. "We need a private room."
Erik follows me down a side corridor without arguing. I try the second conference room, find it empty, and close the door after he comes inside.
"You just acted like I belong to you in front of two hundred donors." I put my bag on a chair and face him.
Erik stops several feet away. "He put his hand on you after you told him no."
"I was handling it."
"I know."
"That didn't stop you." I move closer. "You crossed the terrace, removed his hand, and ordered him away like I was property you'd left unattended."
"Nobody touches you without your permission."
I stare at him. "You did."
Erik says nothing.
"The stairwell on day one. You caught me because I almost fell, which was reasonable. You kept your arm around me after I was steady." I close another foot between us. "You didn't ask. You decided you had a reason, so you decided the contact was acceptable."
Erik steps back, then gives me another foot of space. "You're right. I should've let go once you were steady."
The answer stops me. I'd prepared for him to argue intent, necessity, or that I would've fallen without him. Instead, he accepts the part I'm actually criticizing.
He keeps the distance he created. "I also shouldn't have used my position with Tyler just now. He wasn't asking me about football, and I had no authority over that conversation."
I sit on the edge of the nearest chair because I need a second to rearrange the argument in my head. "His attention was unwanted. I was going to remove his hand myself."
"I know you can handle Tyler."
I look up at him. "Then why did you cross the terrace?"