Chương 10
“This communication was written by Robert Vance eight months before his death.”
Dana stepped forward.
“Source?”
“Archived company correspondence.”
Margaret’s jaw tightened.
The attorney read.
“I do not believe Nora is prepared to exercise control over Summit Crest, and I will not allow sentiment to put thousands of livelihoods at risk.”
The room went still.
I looked down at the email.
Dad’s name was at the bottom.
For one awful moment, all I could hear was Gavin’s voice from that morning.
Ask yourself why a loving father leaves his daughter fifty-one percent of a major company and doesn’t tell her.
Then Margaret leaned across the table.
“Turn the page over.”
Gavin’s attorney frowned.
“What?”
“The email.”
He did not move.
Margaret’s voice sharpened.
“Turn it over.”
Arthur reached for the printout first.
There was a second page.
He read silently.
Then his eyebrows lifted.
Gavin’s face changed.
Arthur passed the paper to me.
The second page contained the rest of Dad’s message.
Therefore, I intend to spend the coming years preparing Nora to understand what she may one day inherit, without allowing Gavin Prescott to discover the extent of her interest.
My father had not been doubting whether I should ever control Summit Crest.
He had been planning for the day I would.
And Gavin had just handed the board the first piece of evidence proving he already knew.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Gavin’s attorney reached for the email, but Arthur kept it in his hand.
“You omitted the second page,” Arthur said.
The attorney’s face tightened.
“I received the document from my client in that form.”
Every head turned toward Gavin.
He did not look embarrassed.
He looked irritated.
“That page was not attached to the copy I had.”
Margaret leaned back.
“The archive system stores multi-page correspondence as a single PDF.”
Gavin glanced at her.
“So?”
“So you could not have downloaded page one without page two unless someone separated them afterward.”
His attorney touched his sleeve.
Gavin ignored him.
“You’re assuming I downloaded it.”
Marcus was not in the room to answer that.
I almost wished he were.
Then Dana said, “The access logs will establish who did.”
Gavin looked at me again.
“You see how this works?”
I said nothing.
“They decided what they wanted to believe before you walked in.”
Arthur set the email on the table.
“No, Gavin.”
His voice was quiet.
“You walked in with a document missing the portion that contradicted your accusation.”
“I walked in trying to save this company from a governance crisis.”
“You created one.”
A director named Leonard Price, whom I knew mostly from holiday dinners and stiff photographs in annual reports, raised his hand.
“Can we stop talking like we’re in court?”
Dana looked at him.
“We are not in court.”
“Exactly.”
He pointed at the documents.
“Then I want plain English.”
His eyes shifted to me.
“Does Nora control the trust or not?”
Margaret answered.
“She is the sole successor beneficiary.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Under the trust instrument, she can revoke my proxy and assume the voting authority herself.”
“Has she?”
“No.”
Leonard looked at me.
“Do you intend to?”
Every instinct told me to say yes immediately.
Gavin expected that.
I could see it in the way he sat straighter, ready for me to become the reckless wife he had described.
I looked at Dana.
She did not nod.
She did not shake her head.
Good.
The decision was mine.
“Not yet.”
The room shifted.
Gavin blinked.
Leonard leaned back.
“Why not?”
“Because I found out this trust existed less than twelve hours ago.”
A few directors exchanged looks.
“I’m not going to pretend that owning voting rights means I understand every operational problem in this company.”
Gavin smiled faintly.
There it was.
The expression said I had proved him right.
I continued.
“But I understand enough to know I should not transfer power simply because I’m angry at my husband.”
His smile disappeared.
“I want the current proxy to remain in place until I have independent legal advice, the trust review is complete, and the board receives a verified account of what happened with corporate funds.”
Leonard studied me.
“That sounds reasonable.”
Another director, Priya Nanduri, shook her head.
“Reasonable does not mean safe.”
She looked toward Margaret.
“If the trust can change control at any moment, lenders and partners may consider that instability.”
Arthur said, “The trust has held these shares for years.”
“With Margaret as proxy.”
“Yes.”
Priya looked at me.
“No offense, Nora.”
“None taken yet.”
A tiny smile moved across her mouth.
“My concern is not you personally.”
“I understand.”
“My concern is uncertainty.”
Gavin leaned forward.
“Exactly.”
His attorney touched his sleeve again.
This time Gavin stopped.
Priya frowned at him.
“I was not agreeing with you.”
He sat back.
The room contained something new now.
Not support for me.
Something better.
Separation from him.
Arthur turned to Dana.
“What can the board establish today?”
Dana opened her folder.
“The trust documents are valid on their face and supported by certified records.”
Gavin’s attorney said, “Subject to challenge.”
“Anything is subject to challenge if you file enough paper.”
“That’s flippant.”
“It’s accurate.”
Arthur raised a hand before the lawyers could continue.
“What about Gavin’s employment status?”
General counsel, a woman named Elise Morgan, finally spoke from the opposite side of the table.
“Administrative leave remains in effect.”
Gavin’s head snapped toward her.
“On what basis?”
“Pending investigation.”
“Into what?”
“Elise,” his attorney warned.
She ignored him.
“Potential misuse of company funds, policy violations involving a direct report, potential retaliation, and unauthorized access to archived records.”
Gavin pushed his chair back.
“Retaliation?”
Elise met his eyes.
“You threatened an employee last night.”
My stomach tightened.
“Camila?”
Gavin looked at me.
Elise did too.
“Ms. Reyes contacted HR at eight forty-two this morning.”
That was before she texted me.
“What did she say?”
May you like
Elise paused.
“I cannot disclose the substance of an employee complaint in this room without authorization.”
