Chapter 6 - THE SON MALCOLM NEVER CLAIMED
I wanted to call Nathan immediately.
My father stopped me.
“Don’t.”
“You expect me to sit here after telling me my husband is Malcolm Voss’s son?”
“I expect you to survive long enough to decide what to do with the information.”
“You’ve had eleven years to make decisions for me.”
Adrian flinched.
Good.
Some ugly part of me wanted him to.
“You don’t get to do that anymore.”
“You’re right.”
The answer surprised me.
He didn’t argue.
Didn’t justify himself.
Didn’t say he had been protecting me.
He simply looked at me.
“You’re right.”
That made it harder to stay angry.
Not impossible.
Just harder.
Mara closed the hidden-room door.
Jonah checked the house again.
Nobody else was inside.
“What happened yesterday?”
I asked.
“Celeste contacted me.”
“Why?”
“She found evidence Malcolm accelerated the Blackstone sale.”
“So you met her at the bank?”
“Yes.”
“What was in box 920?”
“Evelyn’s original investigation.”
“What did Celeste take?”
“Half.”
“Why only half?”
“We agreed years ago never to keep everything in one place.”
I laughed without humor.
“Apparently secrecy is a family tradition.”
Adrian accepted that too.
“Where is the other half?”
“I don’t know.”
“Celeste does?”
“If she’s alive.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened after the bank?”
“Men came through the stairwell.”
“Northbridge.”
“Yes.”
“They took you.”
“They thought they did.”
I frowned.
Adrian pulled his jacket aside.
A dark bruise spread across his ribs.
“I knew one of the drivers.”
“Who?”
“Samuel Ortiz.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“He worked security for your mother years ago.”
“He let you go?”
“He created an opportunity.”
“Then why did the SUV go to the airfield?”
“Because Malcolm’s people needed to believe I was still in the vehicle.”
“How did you get here?”
“Samuel switched cars outside Southampton.”
“Where is he now?”
“I don’t know.”
Adrian looked toward Jonah.
“And that worries me.”
Jonah nodded.
“Should.”
I sat at the desk.
“Start at the beginning.”
Adrian lowered himself into the opposite chair.
“The beginning is older than Nathan.”
“Then start older.”
He looked toward the windows.
“The Voss family and the Ashfords founded Meridian together.”
I had never heard that.
“Malcolm’s father?”
“Henry Voss.”
“What did he do?”
“He had money.”
“And you?”
“I had the mineral agreement.”
“Blackstone.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Through contacts I made while working in commodities.”
“So Grant lied when he said you stole the company from Malcolm’s family?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Not entirely.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“What does that mean?”
“Henry financed the first Blackstone option.”
“How much?”
“Six million.”
“That was thirty years ago.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“The project nearly failed.”
“Then?”
“Henry wanted out.”
“And you bought him out?”
“That was the agreement.”
“But?”
Adrian looked ashamed.
“The funds I used came from a bridge account that should not have been used.”
“Whose money?”
“Client funds.”
Mara stiffened.
“You commingled client capital?”
“Yes.”
“That was illegal.”
“Yes.”
My father said it without defense.
“Did Malcolm know?”
“He discovered it years later.”
“So he had leverage.”
“Exactly.”
“Could it destroy the company?”
“Then?”
Adrian nodded.
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Statute issues make the criminal exposure complicated.”
“But reputation?”
“Catastrophic.”
“Grant called the empire stolen.”
“Grant has spent twenty years telling himself that story because it makes what he did easier to justify.”
“What did he do?”
“He helped Malcolm divert money.”
“How much?”
“More than two hundred million.”
I thought of Orpheus.
“Why?”
“Debt.”
“Gambling?”
“Investments.”
Adrian gave a bitter smile.
“Grant always believed he was one decision away from becoming richer than me.”
“So Malcolm covered him.”
“Then owned him.”
“And Nathan?”
Adrian’s expression darkened.
“Thomas Cole worked for Henry Voss.”
“As what?”
“Driver.”
I waited.
“Thomas married a woman named Laura Bennett.”
“Nathan’s mother.”
“Yes.”
“Malcolm had an affair with her?”
“Long before she married Thomas.”
“Did Thomas know?”
“Eventually.”
“Did Nathan?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then how did Malcolm use him?”
“Slowly.”
Adrian reached for an old folder.
Inside were photographs of Nathan at different ages.
Teenager.
College student.
Young man.
Malcolm appeared in the background of several.
Never beside him.
Always nearby.
“He paid Nathan’s school tuition through a foundation.”
“He told me he had scholarships.”
“He did.”
“From Malcolm.”
“Yes.”
“He got Nathan his first job.”
“Yes.”
“Introduced him to Grant.”
“Yes.”
“And Grant introduced Nathan to me.”
My father didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
I remembered the first night I met Nathan.
A charity auction.
Grant had waved me over.
“Emma, there’s someone you should meet.”
Nathan had smiled.
Charming.
Confident.
Perfect.
I had believed it was chance.
It wasn’t.
“Did Nathan know why he was being introduced?”
“We don’t know.”
“Celeste said he wasn’t the one who chose me.”
“Malcolm chose you.”
“Yes.”
“But Nathan could still have loved me.”
Adrian’s eyes softened.
“That is a question only Nathan can answer.”
I hated that answer most of all.
Because despite everything, part of me still wanted to know.
“Why Friday?”
“Because your birthday activates the founder certificate.”
“What exactly is it?”
Adrian stood.
He opened the safe.
Inside was a small leather folder.
Empty.
He looked at it.
Then cursed.
“What?”
“The certificate.”
“Gone?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see it?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“Before the bank?”
“Yes.”
“Who knew it was here?”
“Three people.”
“Who?”
“Evelyn.”
“She’s dead.”
“Celeste.”
“And?”
My father looked at me.
“Grant.”
I remembered Grant’s warning.
If Adrian is alive, you are in more danger than you realize.
He hadn’t been warning me about my father.
He had been warning me that Adrian could expose him.
“What does the certificate do?”
“It gives the holder of the founder interest veto authority over any sale of Blackstone.”
“Even the board?”
“Yes.”
“Even Malcolm?”
“Yes.”
“Then if they have it?”
“They still need your vested shares or a legal basis to suspend your control.”
“The forged agreement.”
“Yes.”
“Why both?”
“Because the certificate and your shares work together.”
He drew two circles on a piece of paper.
“One controls the company.”
He tapped the first.
“One controls Blackstone.”
He tapped the second.
“Friday morning, both become yours automatically.”
“Unless?”
“Unless a transfer dispute prevents the shares from vesting cleanly.”
“Then Malcolm acts as trustee.”
“Yes.”
“And if he also has the founder certificate?”
“He can authorize the Blackstone sale.”
“How quickly?”
“Minutes.”
I felt cold.
“Who is buying?”
Adrian looked at Mara.
“We need to find out.”
Jonah entered from the hallway.
“You may not have to.”
He held up his phone.
“Celeste surfaced.”
“Where?”
“Brooklyn.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief surprised me.
“What happened?”
“She walked into an urgent-care clinic twenty minutes ago.”
“Can we talk to her?”
Jonah hesitated.
“She asked for Emma.”
I stood.
“Let’s go.”
Adrian blocked the doorway.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Move.”
“If Celeste is compromised—”
“She worked for Mom.”
“She also slept with your husband.”
“I noticed.”
“Malcolm could be using her.”
“So could you.”
That hurt him.
I didn’t apologize.
“You are not deciding for me.”
After a moment, Adrian stepped aside.
Brooklyn traffic turned a forty-minute drive into more than an hour.
By the time we reached the clinic, Celeste was gone.
The nurse said she had left against medical advice.
“How bad was she?”
I asked.
“Cuts.”
“Serious?”
“No.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No.”
“Did she leave anything?”
The nurse hesitated.
Then reached beneath the desk.
“This.”
A folded receipt.
My name written across it.
On the back were six words.
NATHAN DOESN’T KNOW WHO HIS FATHER IS.
Then below that.
DON’T TELL HIM.
NOT YET.
Underneath was an address.
Nathan’s childhood home in Queens.
We arrived shortly after sunset.
The house had been empty since Laura Cole died four years earlier.
Nathan had refused to sell it.
He said he wasn’t ready.
I had visited only once.
Inside, dust covered everything.
His mother’s photographs still lined the hallway.
Nathan at five.
Nathan at twelve.
Nathan graduating high school.
I walked into Laura’s bedroom.
Celeste’s note had contained one more clue.
BLUE DRESS.
In the closet hung dozens of old clothes.
We searched until I found a blue dress in a garment bag.
Inside the pocket was a cassette tape.
A label had been attached.
M.V.
Jonah found an old player in the garage.
The tape crackled.
Then a woman’s voice.
Laura.
Young.
Crying.
“Malcolm, please stop calling.”
A man’s voice answered.
Malcolm.
“You can’t hide him from me.”
“He’s Thomas’s son.”
“No.”
“He will be.”
“That doesn’t change blood.”
“You said you didn’t want a child.”
“I didn’t want a scandal.”
Laura sobbed.
“He’s six months old.”
Malcolm’s voice became cold.
“One day, Nathan will understand what he’s owed.”
The tape ended.
I sat motionless.
Nathan had spent his entire life believing Thomas Cole was his father.
Thomas died when Nathan was fourteen.
Nathan rarely spoke about him.
Only once had he told me something strange.
“My dad always thought someone was watching us.”
At the time, I thought it was grief.
Now I knew better.
Mara opened a small drawer beneath the cassette case.
Inside was an envelope.
Not addressed to Nathan.
Addressed to me.
EMMA ASHFORD.
The handwriting was Celeste’s.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Nathan.
Malcolm.
Grant.
Taken six months before Nathan and I met.
All three men sitting at the same table.
On the back, Celeste had written:
NATHAN LIED ABOUT WHEN HE MET GRANT.
BUT LOOK AT HIS FACE.
HE DIDN’T KNOW WHY HE WAS THERE.
The photograph captured Nathan turning toward Malcolm.
Confused.
Angry.
Grant looked nervous.
Malcolm looked pleased.
Then I noticed the fourth person reflected in the window behind them.
A woman standing outside the restaurant.
Watching.
My mother.
Evelyn had known Nathan was being positioned before I ever met him.
And she had allowed Grant to introduce us anyway.
May you like
For the first time, I wondered whether Nathan had been the only one selected.
Maybe I had been positioned too.
