Chapter 7 - The Director in Green
Her name was Celia Rowan.
For six years she had served as the conscience of the board, the person who asked difficult questions even when they annoyed me.
I trusted her because she did not flatter me.
Seeing her across the table from Mauro felt worse than any insult Patricia had ever delivered.
I called Celia and asked for a private meeting with counsel present.
She agreed without hesitation.
"I'm glad you called," she said.
"Then you'll explain the dinner."
"I will."
Celia arrived at the office carrying a narrow binder.
She looked exhausted.
"Adrian approached me in February," she began.
"He told me he had evidence of a fraud within Hartwell Strategies."
"Why didn't you bring it to me?"
"Because he claimed you were involved. I wanted to verify it independently."
"And dinner with my husband was your investigation?"
She accepted the criticism without defending herself.
"It was a mistake. But I refused the proposal they made."
"What proposal?"
"To sign a statement saying you were unfit to manage the company."
She slid the binder across the table.
Inside were notes, text messages, and emails documenting Adrian's outreach.
One message from Patricia said that Rebecca would soon be removed from the estate as well as the company.
Another referred to a medical evaluation scheduled without my knowledge.
I felt a sick pressure behind my ribs.
"They arranged a medical evaluation?"
"They tried to," Celia said.
"I told them it was inappropriate."
Veronica examined the messages.
"Did you preserve the originals?"
"Yes."
"Did you share them with anyone?"
"Only my own counsel."
Celia looked at me.
"Rebecca, I should have called you sooner. I was afraid of being manipulated, so I ended up allowing the wrong people to keep me silent."
I wanted to forgive her immediately.
I also wanted to know whether I could ever trust her again.
Both feelings sat beside each other, unresolved.
We moved on to the emergency meeting.
Celia said the notice was procedurally defective and that several directors planned to challenge it.
"But Blackridge has been approaching shareholders," she added.
"On what terms?"
"A private offer contingent on a change in management."
"Which shareholders?"
She hesitated.
"One of them is a family trust connected to your grandfather."
I stared at her.
My grandfather had told me the estate was protected.
He had never told me that another family trust held shares in my company.
Celia opened the final page of the binder.
There was a photocopy of a share certificate.
The name on it was not Hartwell.
May you like
It was Vance.
