Part 7
Claire read it twice.
Then she replied.
Did you alter the trust after Elliot prepared it?
The typing indicator appeared immediately.
We refined it to address lender requirements.
Which lender?
Call me.
She did not.
At the estate, Nathan sat in his study while Elliot read the trust agreement over a secure video connection.
Lydia had placed the laptop on the desk and closed the shutters even though the room faced an empty courtyard. She checked the study landline for call forwarding, then felt foolish for doing so.
Elliot’s face looked pale on the screen.
“This is not a refinement,” he said. “It’s a different instrument.”
“Can Gregory issue it under the family office name?” Nathan asked.
“He can circulate documents. He cannot represent that I drafted provisions I did not approve.”
“His initials are in the margin.”
“I see them.”
“What do we do?”
Elliot removed his glasses.
“First, we do not use the phrase fraud until we know who wrote what and why. Second, we preserve the document and the transmission records. Third, you need independent counsel.”
“You’re independent.”
“I represent the estate and several related entities. Gregory is an officer. Claire is a prospective beneficiary. You are the controlling shareholder. My conflicts are no longer theoretical.”
Nathan leaned back.
His legs ached beneath the blanket. The movement on the terrace had sent a line of fire through his hip, followed by the buzzing numbness he had learned not to trust.
“Can you recommend someone?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight?”
“I’ll make the call in the morning.”
Nathan looked toward Lydia.
She was standing near the bookshelf, arms folded.
“Tonight,” Nathan said.
Elliot studied him.
“Are you expecting Gregory to act before morning?”
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t evidence.”
“No. It’s experience.”
Elliot sighed.
“I’ll call Miriam Sloane.”
Lydia knew the name. Sloane represented family-controlled agricultural companies in governance disputes. She also had a reputation for treating wealthy clients as if wealth were an administrative inconvenience rather than a moral credential.
“Thank you,” Nathan said.
Elliot did not disconnect.
“There is another issue.”
“Claire?”
“Your medical concealment.”
Nathan’s expression hardened.
“I violated no reporting requirement.”
“Perhaps not. But if you deliberately misled directors about your capacity while conducting a loyalty test—”
“I didn’t mislead the board about my capacity.”
“You permitted assumptions.”
“My physicians had not cleared me to resume full operational duties.”
“That is not the same as being unable to move your foot.”
“I never said it was.”
Elliot looked tired.
“Nathan, legal precision will not save you from reputational reality.”
Lydia watched Nathan’s thumb press against his forefinger.
“What are you advising?” he asked.
“That you document the medical facts accurately, including the date improvement began. That you do not delete messages. That you do not coordinate accounts with Lydia.”
Nathan looked toward her.
Lydia’s face warmed.
Elliot continued.
“And that neither of you discuss what happened tonight with guests, employees, family members, or the press.”
“The press?” Nathan said.
“Marian Bell was on the terrace.”
Despite everything, Lydia almost smiled.
Marian had never met a private humiliation she could not accidentally mention to six appropriate people.
Elliot disconnected after promising to call before seven.
Nathan closed the laptop.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Lydia remained near the bookshelf.
“For what part?”
“All of it.”
“That isn’t specific enough to be useful.”
He nodded.
“For making you part of the concealment. For allowing Claire to turn your care into suspicion. For not considering what the test would do to you.”
Lydia looked at him.
The apology sounded incomplete because it was. It also sounded difficult.
She accepted both facts.
“Thank you.”
He waited, perhaps expecting forgiveness to follow.
It did not.
Lydia crossed to the door.
“Eat the sandwich in the kitchen.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You haven’t eaten since noon.”
“I’ll manage.”
“That’s what you said before you fainted during the distributor call.”
“I did not faint.”
“You lost consciousness while sitting upright.”
“I had taken medication.”
“Eat the sandwich.”
Nathan looked at her for a moment.
“All right.”
She left before he could change the agreement into something more dignified.
At 6:40 the next morning, Gregory arrived at the estate in a navy Range Rover and found his access code to the executive wing disabled.
He called Lydia.
She watched his name appear on her phone while she stood in the production office drinking coffee from a paper cup.
She let it ring twice before answering.
“Good morning.”
“My code isn’t working.”
“The system was reset last night.”
“Why?”
“Document security.”
A pause.
“Open the door.”
“I’m not in the main house.”
“Where is Nathan?”
“I’m not discussing his location.”
Gregory gave a quiet, disbelieving breath.
“Lydia, I appreciate loyalty, but you are an employee.”
“Yes.”
“You do not have authority to exclude the chief financial officer from company premises.”
“You can enter through reception. Security will escort you.”
“Security.”
“Yes.”
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“Nothing.”
“Then open the door.”
“I’m not there.”
She ended the call.
Her hand shook afterward.
Outside the office window, harvest workers moved yellow bins into rows beneath a washed-blue morning sky. A forklift beeped in reverse. Someone laughed near the crush pad. The ordinary sound steadied her.
Nathan entered in the wheelchair with a travel mug balanced between his knees.
He was wearing a blue work shirt instead of a suit. The blanket covered his legs, but not as neatly as usual. One side dragged close to the wheel.
Lydia pointed.
He tucked it inward before she could.
“Gregory’s here,” she said.
“I saw him.”
“Miriam Sloane is on her way.”
“Elliot called?”
“At six fifteen.”
Nathan looked toward the window.
“Claire?”
“No contact.”
He nodded as if that were information rather than absence.
Lydia handed him a folder.
“I printed the reserve account activity for the last twelve months. Gregory accelerated payments on the bottling equipment and moved two million dollars into a collateral account associated with Kessler Capital.”
Nathan opened the folder.
“When?”
May you like
“Three weeks ago.”
“Authorization?”
