Chapter 10: The Gardeners' Shed
The damp smell of rich earth, fertilizer, and cut grass welcomed me as I slipped through the heavy wooden door of the gardeners' shed. Outside, the afternoon rain had begun to fall, drumming a steady, relentless rhythm against the corrugated tin roof. I pulled the heavy ledger from beneath my apron, setting it down on a workbench cluttered with pruning shears, twine, and terracotta pots.
A moment later, the door creaked open, and Mateo slipped inside, shaking the rain from his dark canvas jacket. He locked the heavy bolt behind him, turning with a tense, hurried breath.
"They're searching the lower quarters," Mateo said, wiping water from his forehead. "Vance realized the safe was accessed. They think someone stole the acquisition deeds, but they don't know about the private financial ledgers yet. Alexander is furious. He's threatening to fire half the staff if the documents aren't returned by nightfall."
"Let him threaten," I said, flipping open the ledger to the highlighted page detailing the illegal shell company transfers. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my smartphone, using the desk lamp's harsh glow to take high-resolution photographs of every single line of incriminating text. "Threats only work when people are afraid of losing their jobs. Once these images are uploaded to a secure cloud server outside the Sterling network, firing us won't stop what's coming."
Mateo walked over, peering down at the glowing screen of my phone. "You're going public? To the press?"
"Not tabloid press," I replied, my fingers steady as I saved the files. "My old conservatory mentor, Professor Hayes, now runs an independent investigative arts journal in New York. He knows how the corporate board works, and he knows how the elite silence artists who get in their way. He's been waiting six years for someone to prove that the Sterling Foundation's funding was built on coercion."
The door rattled suddenly—a firm, heavy knock that wasn't Mateo's signal.
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"Elena," Alexander’s voice called out from the dark of the garden path, calm yet laced with a desperate edge. "I know you're in there. Unlock the door. We need to talk before you make a mistake you can't undo."
Mateo stepped in front of the workbench, his fists clenched, but I raised a hand, stepping past him toward the heavy wooden door.
