Chương 4
“What did you find?”
“First, tell me exactly what you saw in Julian’s office.”
I sat back down.
“Three binders.”
“Color?”
“Black.”
“Clarissa.”
“I’m trying to remember.”
“I know.”
His voice softened.
“Take your time.”
I closed my eyes.
Julian’s home office came back in pieces.
The brass desk lamp.
A glass of water with a lemon slice drying against the rim.
His jacket over the chair.
The binder open beside his laptop because he had left suddenly after receiving a call.
“There was a projected liquidity table.”
“For Cross Meridian?”
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
“I didn’t study it.”
“Approximate.”
“A cash shortfall beginning next month.”
“How large?”
“I don’t know.”
“Millions?”
“Yes.”
“Tens?”
“Possibly.”
Dad muttered something under his breath.
“There was also an acquisition schedule.”
“Of what?”
“I only saw initials.”
“Which initials?”
I searched the memory.
“A.G.”
Dad said nothing.
“Apex Group?”
“That would be my guess.”
“Why would Julian be acquiring Apex if he’s short on cash?”
“He wouldn’t.”
The whiskey suddenly tasted sour in my mouth.
“Then what was the schedule?”
“Possibly a proposed asset sale.”
“Cross Meridian selling to Apex?”
“Or transferring divisions under a rescue arrangement.”
I stood and crossed toward the window.
The lawn mower had stopped.
The street outside was dark except for the gate lights.
“Would that be bad?”
“For whom?”
“For Julian.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“How bad?”
“Potentially catastrophic.”
I pressed two fingers against my forehead.
“And for employees?”
“That depends on the structure.”
“Dad.”
“I don’t have enough information.”
“That means you have some.”
He sighed.
“Vance Capital doesn’t directly hold Cross Meridian’s operating debt anymore.”
“But you used to.”
“Until eleven months ago.”
“What happened?”
“We sold most of the position.”
“To whom?”
“A private credit consortium.”
Relief started to loosen my shoulders.
Then Dad continued.
“We retained control rights tied to certain covenants.”
“What kind of control rights?”
“The kind that become relevant when a borrower conceals material deterioration.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Has Julian concealed something?”
“We’ve suspected it for six weeks.”
“Why?”
“One of Cross Meridian’s largest government-adjacent logistics customers delayed renewal, two overseas contracts underperformed, and their acquisition of Northline Systems appears to have burned considerably more cash than projected.”
I knew Northline.
Julian had celebrated that deal with champagne and a photograph in a business magazine.
“He said Northline doubled their distribution capacity.”
“It did.”
Dad paused.
“It also came with liabilities his team appears to have underestimated.”
“Appears?”
“I’m choosing my words carefully.”
Something about that frightened me more than certainty would have.
“Is that why Apex is involved?”
“Apex has been circling distressed technology assets for years.”
“And tonight Julian is at their gala.”
“Yes.”
“With Chloe.”
Dad’s voice changed slightly.
“Who is Chloe?”
“She works for Cross Meridian.”
“What does she do?”
I had never bothered to ask.
The realization embarrassed me.
“She’s some kind of executive.”
“What kind?”
“Corporate development, maybe.”
“Find out.”
I almost told him he could find out faster than I could.
Then I understood why he had phrased it as an instruction.
He was not trying to rescue me.
He was forcing me back into the part of myself I had abandoned.
I opened my laptop.
The Cross Meridian website loaded slowly.
Julian’s photograph appeared first beneath a slogan about building tomorrow’s infrastructure.
I had always disliked that photograph.
He looked handsome and faintly bored.
I clicked the leadership page.
Chloe was not there.
“Nothing.”
“Search press releases.”
I did.
Her name appeared in a release from eight months earlier.
My mouth went dry as I read.
“Vice president of strategic transactions.”
Dad swore.
“What?”
“That places her directly inside any Apex negotiation.”
“So she isn’t just his date.”
“No.”
I sank into the chair.
“Maybe she’s attending because of work.”
“Both can be true.”
The sentence hurt because it was reasonable.
I preferred Chloe as a simple mistress.
A mistress could be hated.
A strategist sitting beside Julian during a corporate crisis was something else.
It meant the betrayal had rooms I had not entered.
“Clarissa, did the binder contain the word Helix?”
I looked toward the bedroom door.
“I don’t remember.”
“Think.”
“There was something beginning with H.”
“Helix Holdings?”
“Maybe.”
Dad’s breathing changed.
“Why?”
“Because Helix submitted an indication of interest in Cross Meridian’s infrastructure division four days ago.”
“You know that?”
“We were copied because of the control agreement.”
“Who owns Helix?”
“That’s the problem.”
My phone vibrated against my ear with an incoming message.
I pulled it away.
Chloe had sent another photograph.
This one was not from the car.
She and Julian stood beneath the enormous glass chandelier of the Euclid Grand Hotel, surrounded by men and women in formal clothes.
Julian’s hand rested at Chloe’s waist.
Behind them, partially obscured by a waiter carrying champagne, was a digital event board.
WELCOME APEX FOUNDATION PARTNERS.
Below it was a list of principal sponsors.
One name made my pulse stumble.
HELIX HOLDINGS.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“I have a picture.”
“Of what?”
“Helix is sponsoring the gala.”
He became very quiet.
“Send it.”
I forwarded the image.
For nearly a minute neither of us spoke.
Then I heard him call Martin’s name again.
Their voices blurred together.
I stared at Chloe’s smiling face.
She had probably sent the photograph to hurt me.
She had no idea what she had placed in the background.
Dad returned.
“Clarissa, listen carefully.”
“I’m listening.”
“Helix Holdings was incorporated in Delaware fourteen months ago.”
“That isn’t unusual.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“But its beneficial ownership is shielded behind two entities, and one of those entities uses the same registered agent as a family trust connected to Martin Cross.”
Julian’s father.
The room seemed to tilt by a degree.
“Are you saying Julian owns Helix?”
“I’m saying I suddenly care very much who does.”
“Could his father?”
“Martin Cross died five years ago.”
I looked again at the photograph.
May you like
Julian had told me this evening mattered because powerful people would be there.
He had dressed Chloe in diamonds and taken her into a room where a mysterious company linked to his own family was courting his financially strained corporation.
