Chương 9
Arthur’s face changed.
“Nora.”
“You knew.”
“I knew about the trust.”
“You knew what it meant.”
“I did not know what was happening inside your marriage.”
“You knew enough to know I was not dependent on Gavin.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever consider telling me?”
“Many times.”
“And?”
“I did not.”
The honesty made me angrier than an excuse would have.
I got into the car.
Arthur followed in another vehicle.
Margaret sat beside me.
For several blocks, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “Robert believed the knowledge itself would change your marriage.”
“It might have.”
“He thought Gavin would change if he knew.”
“Meaning he would become nicer?”
“Meaning he might perform kindness.”
I turned toward the window.
Pedestrians moved beneath umbrellas along Lexington Avenue.
A man in a delivery uniform balanced two coffee trays while talking into a headset.
“He wanted me to discover who Gavin really was.”
Margaret hesitated.
“Yes.”
“That is a cruel thing to do to your daughter.”
“Yes.”
Again, no defense.
I pressed my thumb against the edge of my purse.
“Did you tell him that?”
“Repeatedly.”
“What did he say?”
“That pain was temporary and knowledge was permanent.”
I closed my eyes.
There was Dad.
Smart enough to build structures other people could not penetrate.
Stubborn enough to mistake control for care.
“I’m angry at him.”
“You are allowed.”
“He’s dead.”
“That does not revoke your permission.”
I looked at her.
“Did you like him?”
“Very much.”
“That sounded almost convincing.”
She smiled faintly.
“Liking Robert and wanting to strangle him were compatible experiences.”
I laughed despite myself.
The sound left me lighter for about three seconds.
Then my phone, still powered off in my purse, felt suddenly heavy.
“Camila could be in danger.”
Margaret’s expression shifted.
“From Gavin?”
“I don’t know.”
“That matters.”
“She said he has her passport.”
Margaret turned fully toward me.
“You did not mention that.”
“I got the message on the way to your office.”
“Dana needs to know immediately.”
At the next light, I powered on the phone.
Notifications flooded the screen.
Three missed calls from Gavin.
Two from Camila.
One voicemail from an unknown number.
Dana called before I could open any of them.
Margaret answered on speaker.
“Dana.”
“We have a problem.”
Her voice was sharper now.
“Marcus found activity.”
“What kind?”
“Someone using Gavin’s corporate credentials accessed archived investor correspondence overnight.”
My skin tightened.
“What correspondence?”
“Robert Vance’s.”
Margaret’s face hardened.
“Downloaded?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“All of it.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“Why would he need Dad’s emails?”
Dana paused.
“We don’t know yet.”
“Guess.”
“I don’t like guessing.”
“Neither do I.”
Margaret said, “Could he be looking for language suggesting Nora lacked capacity or intent to control the trust?”
Dana did not answer immediately.
Then.
“That would be one possible use.”
I stared ahead.
Gavin had spent years calling me impractical.
Emotional.
Out of touch with finances.
A stay-at-home mother who could not understand his work.
The phrases returned now with different edges.
“What if he has emails where Dad criticizes me?”
Margaret looked at me.
“He probably does.”
I swallowed.
“You’re saying Dad wrote things like that?”
“Robert worried about you.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Her silence answered the rest.
The car slowed in front of Summit Crest.
Employees crowded the plaza outside in small groups, pretending not to stare toward the entrance.
Someone had already leaked something.
Arthur’s car pulled in behind us.
Dana was waiting just inside the glass doors.
“No phones in the boardroom,” she said as soon as I entered.
“Why?”
“Because Gavin’s counsel is claiming selective recording and privacy violations.”
“His counsel?”
“He hired outside counsel this morning.”
Of course he had.
Dana handed me a small evidence bag.
“Put your phone inside and sign across the seal.”
I did.
She sealed Margaret’s next.
Arthur joined us.
He looked toward the elevators.
“Gavin arrived ten minutes ago.”
“With Camila?”
“No.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“No.”
My stomach turned.
Dana noticed.
“Focus on what you can control.”
I hated the phrase because it sounded like something printed on a wellness calendar.
Still, I followed her into the elevator.
On the thirty-first floor, the hallway outside the boardroom was unusually quiet.
Two security officers stood near the doors.
One of them nodded to Arthur.
Inside, twelve directors sat around the long glass table.
Three outside attorneys occupied chairs against the wall.
Gavin sat at the far end in a dark suit I had chosen for him two Christmases ago.
He looked rested.
That disturbed me more than panic would have.
When I entered, he looked directly at me and gave a small, almost sad smile.
“Nora.”
Nobody else spoke.
I took the empty chair beside Margaret.
Gavin’s attorney, a square-faced man with gray hair, leaned toward him and whispered something.
Gavin nodded.
Arthur closed the doors.
“This meeting is now called to order.”
One director immediately raised her hand.
“Before anything else, I want to know whether Ms. Vance has voting authority in this room.”
Margaret opened the binder.
“Yes.”
Gavin’s attorney stood.
“We dispute that.”
Dana stood too.
“On what basis?”
“Potential fraud in the activation of the successor provisions.”
I looked at Gavin.
He kept his eyes on Arthur.
Dana said, “Do you have evidence of fraud?”
“We have irregularities.”
“Name one.”
The attorney glanced at Gavin.
“Mr. Prescott has personal knowledge that Robert Vance expressed serious reservations about transferring effective control to his daughter.”
My fingers went cold.
Margaret did not move.
Neither did Arthur.
Gavin finally looked at me.
His expression was almost gentle.
“I’m sorry you have to hear it this way.”
I said nothing.
His attorney continued.
“Mr. Vance believed Nora was financially inexperienced, emotionally vulnerable, and susceptible to influence.”
A few directors shifted in their seats.
The words hurt because they sounded plausible.
Dad had worried.
Dad had hidden the trust.
May you like
Gavin knew exactly where to press.
Then the attorney placed a printed email in the center of the table.
