All Chapters of Too Late, Mr. Cross: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

*Damian's POV* The reconstructed investment report covered almost five years and made me angrier with every page. Ethan sat across from my desk while I read the figures. He had stopped trying to explain them after the third interruption. "Say it again," I told him. He rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Which part?" "The total." "Over five years, the private investment network injected approximately one point eight billion dollars into Cross Group through direct equity support, bridge financing, debt guarantees, and emergency liquidity facilities." I closed the folder. "One point eight billion dollars entered my company, and nobody thought I should know who controlled it?" "You knew we had private financing." "I knew my father had established financing relationships. That is not the same as knowing one anonymous party had been keeping us alive." Ethan shifted in his chair. "Richard negotiated the arrangement personally." "My father has been dead for years." "The confidentia

*Damian's POV*Martin Whitmore refused me twice before I stopped asking politely.We were in his office, surrounded by files that had belonged to my father, and the old lawyer dared to look bored by my anger."You represent the Cross family," I said."I represented your father. I represent you. Neither fact gives you unrestricted access to documents Richard deliberately sealed.""He is dead.""His instructions are not.""I am the executor of portions of his estate.""Portions."I leaned forward. "Cross Group is losing access to financing arranged during his lifetime. An anonymous investor has withdrawn support immediately after my divorce, and records show the arrangement began days after my wedding. If my father created this problem, I need to know."Martin removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief."Your father created many arrangements you never bothered to understand while he was alive.""I was running the company.""You were fighting with him.""Those are not mutua

*Damian's POV* I spent most of the night reading my father's files and found just enough information to make ignorance impossible without finding enough to understand what he had done. Elena's name appeared in trust correspondence. Williams Holdings appeared in financial memoranda. There were references to protection, confidentiality, and a private agreement signed years before our wedding. Every useful name beyond those was redacted. By morning, irritation had hardened into certainty. My father and Elena had hidden something from me. Rosalie found me in the study with documents spread across the desk. "You didn't sleep." "I slept." "Changing shirts doesn't count." I looked at her. "Why are you here this early?" "You ignored sixteen calls. I have been calling you since yesterday. " "I was working." She set coffee beside me and picked up one page. I took it from her. "This is private." Her eyebrows rose. "I have seen you naked, Damian." "That does not grant access to

*Damian's POV* By the time Ethan entered my office, I had already read the latest liquidity report twice and disliked it more the second time. He placed another file in front of me. "Before you react, read the entire thing." "That is never a promising introduction." "I'm serious." I opened it. The first page showed the guarantee supporting one of Cross Group's revolving credit facilities. The second showed the withdrawal notice. The third contained a corporate ownership map. I looked up. "What am I supposed to see?" "The guarantee did not come directly from the anonymous investor. It came through three holding companies." "I know." "We traced the oldest one." "And?" Ethan pointed to the bottom of the page. Williams Holdings. I stared at the name. "Elena." "We don't know that." "Her surname is Williams." "So are the surnames of thousands of people." "You cannot seriously believe this is unrelated." "I believe we need documentation." I pushed back from the desk. "F

*Elena's POV* I kept my finger on my father's name because taking it away made the photograph feel less real. Adrian Williams. I had seen the name on certificates, old legal papers, and the single obituary I had been allowed to keep when I was a child. I knew the dates printed beside it. I knew the official story: my parents had died when I was young, Richard Cross had taken responsibility for me afterward, and the rest of my childhood had been built around adults telling me there was nothing useful to remember. The man in the photograph did not look like nothing. He had one hand on my shoulder and his head bent toward Richard as if the two of them had been interrupted in the middle of a conversation. I was between them in a yellow dress, grinning at whoever held the camera. I looked at Evelyn. "You said your client expected me to ask about him. Who is your client?" "I am not authorized to give you a name today." "Then authorize yourself." Clara shifted beside me. "Elena."