Part 10:

Then they started calling them. Not official visits, just conversations. How many people are you serving? What does success look like? Can you show us your outcomes? Some organizations were great. Small operations run by people who genuinely cared, doing incredible work with limited resources. Those Daniel flagged for increased funding.

Others fell apart under basic scrutiny. Vague answers, missing data, directors who got defensive when asked simple questions. Those went on a watch list. And some were just straight up fraud. A job training program that didn’t exist. A community center that had closed 2 years ago, but was still cashing checks. A food bank that was actually just one guy with a P.O. box.

Daniel reported everything to Isabella. She listened to every word, asked smart questions, and then made decisions. Quick, brutal decisions. Funding cut off. Investigations launched. In one case, criminal charges filed. You’re enjoying this, Daniel observed one day. Is that bad? No, just interesting. Most people don’t enjoy being proven wrong.

Isabella considered that. I think I’m enjoying having someone tell me the truth. Everyone else just tells me what they think I want to hear. Even your board. Especially my board. They’re all old men who liked my father and tolerate me because the company makes money. If I fail, they’ll replace me in a heartbeat. So, don’t fail. Great advice.

Why didn’t I think of that? Despite the stress, despite the long hours, something shifted between them. They weren’t quite friends. The power dynamic was too weird for that. But they weren’t just boss and consultant either. They were two people trying to do something difficult and figuring it out as they went. Sophie helped.

Isabella started coming to some of their afternoon pickups from school, and Sophie treated her exactly the same as everyone else, which meant she asked invasive questions, shared unsolicited opinions, and demanded that Isabella participate in whatever game she’d invented that day. “You have to be the dragon,” Sophie announced one afternoon at the park.

“I don’t know how to be a dragon,” Isabella said. “Just roar and chase us. It’s not complicated.” Daniel watched Isabella Grant, billionaire CEO, chase his 7-year-old daughter around a playground while making dragon noises. She looked ridiculous. She also looked happier than he’d ever seen her. That evening, after Sophie was in bed, Isabella stayed for coffee.

They sat at Daniel’s tiny kitchen table, and she looked around the apartment like she was seeing it for the first time. “This is nice,” she said. “It’s a dump.” “No, I mean it. It feels like people actually live here. My apartment is just rooms with expensive furniture. It doesn’t feel like anything.

Where do you live? Tribeca. Top floor of a building I own. 1200 square ft. Floor to ceiling windows. View of the Hudson. I hate it. Why don’t you move? Where would I go? Everywhere else feels too small after you’ve had space like that. Maybe that’s the problem. Isabella smiled sadly. Maybe. They drank their coffee in comfortable silence.

Can I ask you something?” Isabella said eventually. “And you promised to give me an honest answer?” “Sure.” “Am I getting better at being a person? I mean, or am I just performing for you?” Daniel thought about it. About the woman who’d snapped at Arthur in the cafe, about the way she’d handled firing Richard. About her chasing Sophie around the playground.

“I think you’re trying,” he said. “And trying is more than most people do. But is it enough?” “I don’t know. Ask me in 3 months. She laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that’s close to crying. 2 months in, they hit their first real test. The East Side Community Alliance was one of the foundation’s biggest grants.

Half a million a year to fund housing assistance programs across three burrows. On paper, they looked great. Professional website, glowing testimonials, years of operation. But when Daniel and Kevin dug deeper, things didn’t add up. The numbers of people served kept changing. Documentation was vague.

And when Daniel tried to schedule a site visit, the director kept finding reasons to postpone. Finally, Daniel just showed up unannounced. The address listed for their main office was a UPS store. He called Isabella from the sidewalk. We have a problem. She arrived 20 minutes later in a car with tinted windows. They stood on the street together staring at the UPS store.

Half a million dollars, Isabella said quietly. Per year for 3 years. Where did the money go? I don’t know yet, but I’m going to find out. It took 2 weeks and a forensic accountant to unravel it. The East Side Community Alliance was run by a man named Thomas Brennan, who’d worked for Grant Industries 20 years ago.

He’d been friends with Richard Pollson. The housing assistance was mostly cash payments to people Brennan claimed were clients but who didn’t exist. The money went into shell companies, then into Brennan’s personal accounts. It was fraud. Clear, deliberate fraud. And Richard had either known or hadn’t bothered to check.

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