“He said you built your public image around being the sole founder.”
“I have corrected journalists for twenty years.”
“He told me you planned to remove me after the Bellamy sale.”
“I never did.”
“When did you know?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Yesterday.”
My anger rose.
“Yesterday?”
“When I read the documents again without him explaining them.”
I sat back.
Adrian had been narrating reality for everyone.
That was his real weapon.
Not stolen data.
Interpretation.
He gave people stories that matched their fears.
Then they acted as if the stories were facts.
Daniel leaned forward.
“There’s more.”
“Adrian wanted me to call a special board meeting after the Whitmore acquisition.”
“To challenge you.”
“On what grounds?”
“Emotional instability.”
Instead, I felt sick.
He continued.
“He had a file.”
“What file?”
“Your medical leave after Naomi died.”
The room disappeared for a second.
I had taken four months off.
I had been treated for severe grief and depression.
Private.
Protected.
Human.
Adrian intended to weaponize it nineteen years later.
“Where did he get that?”
Then I did.
Not necessarily maliciously.
Maybe paperwork connected to the foundation.
Maybe insurance.
Maybe a conversation.
But the source had to be close.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Rebecca.
I know what he really wanted.
I called her immediately.
She was crying.
“Naomi’s trust.”
“What about it?”
“You created it after she died.”
The Naomi Carter Memorial Trust held a substantial block of Carter Retail shares.
Its dividends funded the foundation.
I personally controlled voting rights.
Rebecca continued.
“Adrian asked me last month what happens to the shares if you die.”
Richard looked at me sharply.
“That they transfer to the foundation permanently.”
“Why would he care?”
Then she whispered:
“But yesterday, I found an unsigned amendment in my office.”
My heart pounded.
“What amendment?”
“It changes the successor trustee.”
She started crying harder.
His face drained.
He whispered, “I never knew.”
“And if Daniel can’t serve…”
Chapter 7
The trust amendment was fake.
That was the good news.
The bad news was that it was convincing.
My signature had been scanned from an older foundation document.
The formatting matched our law firm’s style.
The dates aligned with a period when I was traveling.
If Rebecca had signed as witness, it might have created years of litigation.
She hadn’t.
Not because she suspected fraud.
Because she forgot.
That mistake may have saved my company.
I met Rebecca at the foundation office.
Not alone.
My attorney sat beside me.
So did federal investigators.
Rebecca looked like she hadn’t slept.
Neither had I.
She stared at the table.
I didn’t answer.
One apology could not cover everything.
She continued.
“I thought Adrian cared about Naomi.”
“So?”
“He remembered her birthday.”
My stomach twisted.
“He researched her.”
“You gave him access because he performed grief correctly.”
She covered her face.
I leaned back.
For years, I thought grief made me suspicious.
It didn’t.
Sometimes it made other people easy to manipulate too.
Rebecca loved Naomi.
Adrian used that love.
That did not erase her negligence.
But it changed the shape of it.
The investigator asked, “Did Mr. Cole ever ask you to sign documents?”
Rebecca nodded.
“The amendment.”
“Did he say where it came from?”
“He said Simone’s lawyers sent it.”
My attorney shook his head.
“They didn’t.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“I should have called.”
The investigator continued.
“Did he ever discuss Ms. Carter’s death?”
Rebecca’s face changed.
“Think carefully.”
“Insurance?”
“Once.”
My blood chilled.
“He asked whether key-person insurance covered Simone.”
My attorney leaned forward.
“Three months ago.”
“He said North Coast needed continuity analysis.”
I looked at the investigator.
That was not normal.
Not at that stage.
Not through Rebecca.
He wrote something down.
The room felt colder.
After the meeting, Richard called.
“We found Ethan.”
“Airport.”
“Leaving?”