Chương 14
“You’re enjoying this.”
“I assure you I would rather be asleep.”
My phone buzzed with a news alert.
I looked down.
Northstar shares were mentioned in an overnight market report after my divorce post and reports of Grant’s administrative leave.
The story had escaped our private disaster.
I showed Daniel.
He read it and swore.
“What?”
“Someone leaked the suspension.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“The board notification went to twelve people.”
“Then twelve people are eleven too many.”
Grant reached for his own dead phone by reflex and seemed to remember it still had no battery.
“Markets open in less than ten hours.”
“You’re suspended,” Evelyn said.
“Northstar is still my company.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
She corrected herself.
“Not yours alone.”
His gaze moved to me.
Neither of us said anything.
For six years, I had allowed him to speak as though Northstar belonged to him because I thought ownership was less important than stewardship.
Now even the word stewardship felt contaminated.
Daniel tore the legal-pad page free.
“We need a disclosure team in place before premarket.”
“You are not calling half the company from a maternity hallway,” I said.
“I am certainly not calling them from the gift shop.”
“Use a conference room.”
“At midnight?”
“This is a hospital.”
“Exactly.”
Lena looked up.
“There’s a family consultation room around the corner.”
Daniel stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“I passed it.”
He gave me a look.
“She is frighteningly observant.”
“Occupational hazard,” Lena said.
We moved to the consultation room, leaving Grant near the NICU.
He did not follow.
The room contained six padded chairs, a box of tissues, a sink, and a framed print of sailboats that looked aggressively cheerful.
I sat at the table.
Evelyn remained standing.
Daniel opened his laptop.
Lena connected hers to an outlet.
Martin stayed on speaker.
No one seemed willing to end the call.
“Martin,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why did you keep protecting this?”
He was quiet for several seconds.
“Because at first I believed I was protecting your father’s last decision.”
“And later?”
“Later I was protecting my reputation.”
There it was.
Not noble.
Not complicated.
Human.
“I had spent forty-eight years telling clients that fiduciary duty was not optional.”
His voice grew rough.
“Then I discovered I had certified a consent that might have been fraudulent.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“No.”
“Because you were embarrassed.”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of being sued?”
“That too.”
“What else?”
“Of discovering Robert had arranged it.”
I frowned.
“Why would he forge my consent?”
“He wouldn’t have considered it forgery.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“He believed the trust existed to execute his intentions after death.”
I stared at the sailboat print.
“And legally?”
“Legally, he would have been wrong.”
For some reason, hearing Martin say that hurt.
My father had spent his life believing competence excused force.
Maybe I had inherited more than shares.
A notification sounded from Lena’s laptop.
She straightened.
“I have the authentication log.”
Everyone turned toward her.
She scanned the entries.
“The consent was uploaded from the lake house network.”
Grant was still outside.
I almost went to get him.
Then Lena said, “Wait.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“The device fingerprint doesn’t match Grant’s laptop.”
Daniel leaned closer.
“What does it match?”
“I need a second.”
Her fingers moved quickly.
The consultation room seemed to shrink around the sound of typing.
Then she stopped.
“Found it.”
I stood.
“Whose device?”
Lena looked at Evelyn.
Evelyn’s face remained blank.
“Not hers.”
“Martin?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Lena turned the screen toward me.
The registered device name was ROBERT-IMAC.
My father’s desktop computer.
I stared at it.
“That computer was at the lake house.”
“Yes.”
“He was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Could someone have used it?”
“Absolutely.”
“Who had access?”
I thought of Grant going to close the property.
The estate appraiser.
Housekeeping.
Martin, perhaps before the funeral.
Evelyn.
Then another memory came.
A brass key on my kitchen counter.
A woman’s hand pushing it toward me.
I had been so deep in grief I barely looked up.
Evelyn saying, I locked the office, but I left Robert’s computer running because I wasn’t sure what should be archived.
I looked at her.
“You were at the lake house after Dad died.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“When?”
“The week after the funeral.”
“Yes.”
“You told me you locked his office.”
“I did.”
“Did you use his computer?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I don’t know.”
Grant appeared in the doorway.
He had heard enough to understand the question.
“I did.”
We all looked at him.
He stepped into the room.
“I used Robert’s computer the day I went back.”
My pulse climbed.
“For what?”
“To search for the Vela files.”
“Did you log into my trust?”
“No.”
“Did you know my password?”
“No.”
“Did you know the security answer?”
“Yes.”
“Mother’s maiden name.”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Grant looked at me.
“I know what this looks like.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then save me the explanation.”
“I didn’t upload that consent.”
Lena turned the screen.
“The device log places Robert’s iMac on the trust portal for twenty-three minutes.”
Grant stared at it.
“What time?”
She told him.
His face changed.
“That wasn’t me.”
“You were at the house.”
“Yes.”
“Using that computer.”
“Earlier.”
“How much earlier?”
“About two hours.”
“Can you prove that?”
“No.”
Evelyn watched him.
Grant looked at her.
Then he looked back at Lena.
“Check the network logs for another device.”
“Why?”
“Because I wasn’t alone.”
My chest tightened.
“Who was with you?”
Grant hesitated.
That hesitation answered before he did.
“Melissa.”
The room became very still.
I stared at him.
“Six years ago?”
“Yes.”
My voice sounded distant.
“You told me the affair began last year.”
Grant looked down.
“It did.”
“Then why was she at my father’s lake house six years ago?”
He lifted his eyes.
“Because Melissa wasn’t my mistress then.”
No one spoke.
Grant swallowed.
May you like
“She was your father’s financial analyst.”
I stared at Grant as if the sentence had physically moved the floor beneath me.
