Chapter 24 - No More Private Deals
Morgan Commercial and Bennett Table Group negotiated for six days.
No private-room surprises.
No hidden side letters.
No colored signature tabs.
Every material document went through independent counsel.
Every financial assumption was reviewed by both sides.
Rachel attended as a shareholder observer, not negotiator.
That distinction mattered to her.
She had spent years confusing ownership with status.
Now she was learning governance.
Melissa Grant presented the appraisal.
“Fifty-five point eight million.”
Maya nodded.
Her lenders would finance forty-two.
Bennett needed almost fourteen million in equity and costs.
The company had seven available.
Maya needed another seven.
She could bring in an investor.
Richard Vale offered.
She declined.
“You don't trust me,” he said.
“No.”
“Fair.”
A hospitality private-equity fund offered ten million for fifteen percent of Bennett Table Group.
Maya declined.
Too much control.
Then Denise proposed something different.
“Employee investment trust.”
Maya frowned.
“Explain.”
“Not employees writing checks. A company-funded profit-interest structure.”
“That's equity compensation.”
“Yes.”
“How does it solve cash?”
“It doesn't directly. But if we're taking on debt, maybe we should expand employee ownership instead of bringing in outside equity.”
Maya smiled.
“You're answering a different question.”
“I know.”
“Good question.”
Maya still needed cash.
She finally made the hardest choice.
Sell a minority interest in one non-core catering subsidiary.
Not the restaurants.
Not the land.
A regional hotel company paid eight million.
Enough.
The night before closing, Maya sat alone in the flagship.
Rachel entered.
“You're open?”
“Kitchen closed.”
“Can I sit?”
“You already are.”
Rachel smiled.
She wore simple clothes.
No diamonds.
Maya noticed but said nothing.
Rachel looked around.
“Tomorrow you own the building.”
“If nothing goes wrong.”
“Something always goes wrong.”
“Thank you.”
“Sorry.”
Maya laughed.
Rachel grew serious.
“Mom wants me on Morgan Commercial's board.”
“What do you want?”
“I don't know.”
“Good.”
Rachel frowned.
“Good?”
“Three days ago you would have answered based on what sounded impressive.”
Rachel accepted that.
“I don't want to become Colin.”
“Then don't.”
“Helpful.”
“Expensive advice is usually the same sentence with a chart.”
Rachel laughed.
James approached with two cups of tea.
He set one before Rachel.
“Thank you.”
He looked at her.
“Anything else?”
Rachel smiled.
“No. And for the record, you're doing very well here.”
James stared.
Maya covered her mouth.
Rachel groaned.
“That sounded terrible.”
James laughed.
“I'm going to frame it.”
After he left, Rachel looked at Maya.
“I deserved that.”
“Yes.”
They drank tea.
Rachel asked,
“Do you hate Evan?”
Maya thought.
“No.”
“Really?”
“I don't know him enough.”
“He tried to take your company.”
“I hate what he did.”
Rachel looked toward the private-room doors.
“I loved him.”
“I know.”
“I still remember good things.”
“That doesn't make you stupid.”
Rachel looked at her.
“You just said something kind.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
Rachel smiled.
Maya continued.
“People want betrayal to simplify the past. It doesn't.”
Rachel's eyes filled.
“He held me after my father died.”
“That happened.”
“He also studied Dad's company.”
“Yes.”
“Both can be true.”
“Yes.”
Rachel wiped one eye.
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
At nine, Priya called.
Closing delayed.
Maya closed her eyes.
“Why?”
“A lien.”
“What lien?”
“One of the three properties shows a recently recorded security interest in favor of HBR.”
Maya stood.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“That is impossible.”
“Maybe.”
“Who authorized it?”
“That is the question.”
Rachel watched Maya's face.
“What happened?”
Maya explained.
Rachel immediately called Melissa.
The interim CEO sounded furious.
“No board approval exists.”
“Could Colin have signed before resigning?”
“Not yesterday.”
“Evan?”
“No authority.”
“Then forged?”
“We don't know.”
Maya almost laughed.
The word of the month.
They gathered in Morgan Commercial's office.
Title documents confirmed the lien.
HBR claimed a twelve-million-dollar security interest against Harbor Street.
Supporting paperwork carried a notarized signature from Colin dated two weeks earlier.
Rachel called her brother.
“Did you sign?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Colin.”
“I signed plenty of things I shouldn't have. Not that.”
Natalie examined the notarization.
The notary was registered.
Name: Susan Pike.
Address: office suite belonging to Derek Sloan's consulting company.
Derek denied knowing her.
Nobody believed him automatically.
Police financial investigators were notified.
Closing paused.
Maya felt rage building.
Evan did not need to win anymore.
He only needed delay.
Then James called from the restaurant.
“Maya.”
“What?”
“A woman is asking for you.”
“Who?”
“She says she's Susan Pike.”
Everyone looked at Maya.
“Keep her there.”
Maya and Priya returned immediately.
Susan sat at the bar.
She was forty-five, visibly frightened.
“I saw my name in the public filing,” she said.
Priya sat opposite.
“You should consider having your own lawyer.”
“I know.”
“Did you notarize Colin Morgan's signature?”
Susan shook her head.
“No.”
“Is that your notary seal?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“My seal was stolen.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Did you report it?”
Susan looked ashamed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I thought I lost it.”
Maya closed her eyes.
Priya continued.
“Who had access?”
“I worked temporary administrative contracts.”
“For whom?”
Susan swallowed.
“Derek Sloan.”
The room went silent.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
Before the forged documents.
Susan continued.
“I found the seal missing after I left.”
“Why come here?”
She looked at Maya.
“Because the signature beside my seal is not mine.”
Another forgery.
This one created a fake lien designed to block Maya's property purchase.
Priya immediately contacted the title company.
Evidence of fraudulent notarization could support removing or bonding around the lien, but not instantly.
Evan had bought time again.
Susan stood to leave.
Then stopped.
“There is one more thing.”
Maya almost laughed.
“Please.”
“Mr. Sloan used to ask me to prepare FedEx envelopes.”
“For?”
“I don't know. I didn't open them.”
“Where did they go?”
“Mostly banks. Lawyers.”
“Anything unusual?”
“One every month went to a post-office box.”
“Whose?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you remember the city?”
“Yes.”
She named a suburb thirty miles away.
Rachel, listening by speaker, froze.
“What?”
Maya asked.
Rachel's voice lowered.
“My husband has a storage unit there.”
Maya stared at the phone.
“How do you know?”
“He told me it held old college furniture.”
Priya immediately said,
“Nobody goes there.”
Rachel almost laughed.
“I know.”
“Your lawyer handles it.”
“Yes.”
But Rachel understood what the storage unit probably contained.
The documents Evan never trusted to email.
The records he had not burned.
And perhaps the complete architecture of the scheme.
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The walls were closing.
For Evan too.
