Chapter 2 - Friday
Elena Brooks arrived at the mansion at 7:12 the next morning.
Victoria tried to stop her in the foyer.
“You cannot simply walk into my home.”
Elena removed her gloves without raising her voice.
“I was invited by the owner.”
“My husband is medically dependent.”
“Not legally incompetent.”
The distinction landed hard.
Claire met Elena at the staircase and escorted her upstairs.
Victoria followed.
Malcolm had disappeared before midnight.
Nathaniel had barely slept.
Elena entered the bedroom carrying a leather briefcase, glanced at the wedding portrait, then sat where Nathaniel could see her comfortably.
She had represented him for eleven years.
She never spoke to Claire instead of him.
“Nathaniel, I received the recording.”
“Good.”
“I also heard the hallway audio.”
Victoria appeared at the doorway.
“You have no right to discuss private marital matters with staff present.”
Nathaniel looked toward Claire.
“She stays.”
Victoria’s lips tightened.
Elena opened her briefcase.
“I need to ask you several questions. Are you comfortable answering in front of Victoria?”
“No.”
Victoria laughed once.
“This is absurd.”
Elena turned.
“Then please leave.”
“I’m his wife.”
“And he just asked you to leave.”
For several seconds Victoria did not move.
Then she walked out and slammed the door.
Elena waited.
“What happens Friday?”
Nathaniel’s eyes shifted toward the tablet.
Claire opened his calendar.
Friday contained an appointment Nathaniel had never created.
9:00 A.M. — NEUROCOGNITIVE REVIEW.
Elena frowned.
“With whom?”
“Don’t know.”
Claire opened the details.
Dr. Peter Langford.
Elena immediately searched her documents.
“I know that name.”
Nathaniel watched her.
“He signed a capacity statement for the Carter Family Office six weeks ago.”
Silence.
“What statement?” Nathaniel asked.
Elena hesitated.
“A preliminary affidavit saying your cognitive function had deteriorated after the accident.”
Nathaniel stared at her.
Claire whispered, “That’s false.”
“Yes,” Elena said. “Which is why I refused to use it.”
Nathaniel’s voice sharpened.
“Who requested it?”
Elena looked toward the closed door.
“Victoria.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Nathaniel remembered weeks of conversations in which Victoria had told him he was becoming forgetful.
You already approved that.
We discussed this yesterday.
You’re confused again.
He had begun writing private notes because he feared she might be right.
“What would Friday do?”
Elena answered carefully.
“If a second evaluation supported Langford’s opinion, Victoria could attempt to petition the probate court for a conservatorship over certain financial decisions. She would still have to prove incapacity. Quadriplegia alone means nothing legally.”
Nathaniel swallowed.
“She thinks I’m stupid.”
“No,” Claire said.
Her voice surprised everyone.
Claire rarely interrupted.
“She knows you aren’t.”
Nathaniel looked at her.
Claire’s eyes were wet with anger.
“That’s why somebody kept disabling your independent communications.”
Elena turned.
“What?”
Claire explained the missing tablet permissions.
Three months earlier, Nathaniel’s email access had vanished.
Then his bank portal.
Then his private cloud storage.
Victoria blamed software updates.
Claire had quietly restored each function.
“I thought it was poor configuration,” Claire said. “Until it happened again.”
Nathaniel remembered something else.
“Company approvals.”
Elena understood.
“You haven’t personally signed a Carter Meridian transfer since the accident?”
“Not one.”
Elena’s expression changed.
She removed another folder from her briefcase.
“That creates a problem.”
She placed a printed bank authorization where Nathaniel could see it.
The signature at the bottom read:
Nathaniel A. Carter.
His signature.
Almost.
The final stroke of the C curled too tightly.
Nathaniel had not signed documents by hand since losing voluntary movement in his arms.
“What is that?”
“A transfer authorization for $480,000.”
“To whom?”
Elena slid the page higher.
M.R. Strategic Holdings LLC.
Nathaniel closed his eyes.
Malcolm Reed.
Claire went still.
Elena continued.
“There are four transfers I know about. Totaling just over two million dollars.”
Nathaniel reopened his eyes.
“When?”
“The first was three months after your accident.”
Victoria had been sleeping beside his hospital bed then.
Holding his hand.
Telling reporters she would never abandon him.
Nathaniel felt suddenly nauseated.
A knock came at the door.
Nobody answered.
Victoria opened it anyway.
Her expression was composed again.
“I think this has gone far enough.”
Elena gathered the papers.
“Actually, I think we’ve barely started.”
Victoria looked at Nathaniel.
For an instant he saw fear.
Then she smiled.
“You should ask Elena about the document you signed before your accident.”
Nathaniel frowned.
Elena’s face changed.
Victoria saw it.
“Oh,” she said. “You haven’t told him?”
Nathaniel looked at his lawyer.
“What document?”
Elena did not answer immediately.
Victoria leaned against the doorway.
“A power of attorney.”
Nathaniel stared at her.
Victoria smiled.
“Your power of attorney.”
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Then she added the sentence that turned suspicion into dread.
“And unlike the bank form Elena brought, that signature is completely real.”
