Chapter 9 - Simone
Simone Crowe arrived at headquarters wearing a red suit and an expression that made junior executives move out of her path.
At fifty-one, she shared Damien’s eyes and their father’s refusal to apologize for entering a room.
They had not been alone together in four years.
“Nice building,” she said.
“You’ve been here before.”
“Not since you stopped returning my calls.”
Damien placed the succession memo on the conference table.
“Did you sign this?”
Simone read the page.
Her face changed.
“No.”
“That’s your signature.”
“It looks like it.”
“That phrase is becoming popular in my life.”
She looked at him.
“I did not sign this.”
Damien crossed his arms.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if I wanted your company, I wouldn’t need Marcus Vale to steal it.”
There was the sister he remembered.
“You still own six percent.”
“Seven point two.”
“You increased?”
“I buy when you annoy me.”
Despite everything, Damien almost smiled.
Simone sat.
“Why am I here?”
“Because my wife may have tried to kill me.”
The sarcasm disappeared from Simone’s face.
“I heard about the pool.”
“You didn’t call.”
“You blocked me.”
“I didn’t block you.”
She stared.
“Yes, you did.”
Damien frowned.
“My assistant said you stopped contacting me.”
Simone gave a slow laugh.
“Your assistant?”
“Evelyn handled family correspondence after Dad died.”
The room became quiet.
Simone opened her purse and removed her phone.
She found an old email.
Four years earlier.
Damien, I know you’re angry, but Dad’s estate shouldn’t destroy us. Call me.
Sent.
No reply.
Then another.
I don’t want the voting shares. I want an independent trustee because Evelyn shouldn’t control family-company decisions if something happens to you.
Damien looked up.
“You sent this?”
“Twelve times in different forms.”
“I never saw any of them.”
Simone’s expression hardened.
“You’re telling me she intercepted them?”
Damien sat.
Their estrangement had begun after their father, Leonard Crowe, died.
Leonard’s estate left Damien controlling interest in the company because Damien had run it.
Simone received substantial assets but fewer voting shares.
Evelyn told Damien that Simone had threatened litigation.
Simone told Damien now she had never threatened anything.
“She said you demanded equal control.”
“I demanded independent governance.”
“She said you called me selfish.”
“I called you stubborn.”
“That sounds more accurate.”
Simone leaned forward.
“Damien, I wanted guardrails because you had just inherited control and married a woman nobody in the family knew.”
“I had been married to Evelyn three years.”
“Exactly.”
He looked away.
Simone’s voice softened.
“I didn’t trust her.”
“You never tried.”
“I tried enough to notice she enjoyed speaking for you.”
Damien felt anger rise.
“At the time you hated anyone who got between you and Dad.”
“That was true.”
“So don’t rewrite history.”
“I’m not.”
For the first time, Simone’s eyes filled.
“We were both awful.”
That stopped him.
She continued.
“I was jealous. You were Dad’s chosen successor. I treated every decision like proof he loved you more.”
Damien said nothing.
“And you,” Simone said, “used Evelyn as a shield because it was easier than fighting with me.”
He knew that was true too.
The family betrayal was more complicated than a villain inserting herself between siblings.
Evelyn had exploited a fracture that already existed.
That made Damien partly responsible for how wide it became.
He pushed the succession memo toward Simone.
“Did Marcus ever approach you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Seven months ago.”
Damien froze.
“What did he want?”
“He said Crowe Meridian needed a succession framework.”
“Did you meet?”
“Once.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Simone’s laugh was sharp.
“You weren’t speaking to me.”
“What happened?”
“He showed me projections. Claimed Evelyn would become successor trustee and wanted me to support a temporary board committee if you died.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him I wouldn’t discuss your death with a consultant.”
“Then?”
“He sent me documents.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
Simone studied the signature again.
“He forged this.”
Damien nodded.
“Looks that way.”
She leaned back.
“Then Marcus wasn’t just preparing after your death.”
“No.”
“He was manufacturing consent before it.”
“Yes.”
For the first time in years, Damien and Simone looked at each other not as opponents but as siblings facing the same enemy.
Simone reached across the table.
“Are you safe?”
Damien hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
“Then stop going home.”
He looked toward the skyline.
“That house is mine.”
“So was the pool.”
He could not argue.
Before leaving, Simone paused at the door.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“Dad left me a letter.”
Damien frowned.
“For you?”
“No.”
Simone looked at him.
“For you.”
His face tightened.
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
“I tried.”
A bitter smile.
“Evelyn told me you didn’t want anything from me.”
Simone opened her handbag again.
She removed a sealed envelope, yellowed slightly at the edges.
Across the front, in Leonard Crowe’s handwriting, were five words:
For Damien, when trust breaks.
Damien stared at it.
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His father had been dead for seven years.
Yet somehow, Leonard Crowe had left behind a warning for the exact moment his son’s world collapsed.
