Chapter 7 - The First Two MillionNaomi’s father had been dead for four years.
Until Camille’s accusation, Naomi had never doubted the story of Asterline’s beginning.
Samuel Ellis had invested two million dollars in his daughter’s company when it was little more than code, stubbornness, and three employees working above a dry cleaner.
The money came from the sale of an industrial property he owned in Queens.
At least that was what Naomi believed.
By midnight, Beatrix had obtained the original investment records.
At 12:47 a.m., Naomi discovered the first lie her father had ever left behind.
The money had not come directly from Samuel.
It came from an entity called Epsilon Ventures.
Samuel’s name appeared only as administrator.
Epsilon’s funding source was another company.
Mercer Strategic Capital.
Naomi stared at the bank transfer.
Roland’s father’s company.
Not Roland personally.
Not exactly.
But Mercer money.
“Why?” she whispered.
Beatrix sat across from her.
“We don’t know yet.”
Naomi felt sick.
“Did Roland know?”
“Maybe.”
“Camille thinks he did.”
“Camille wants you destabilized.”
“That doesn’t make the document false.”
No.
That was the problem with effective manipulation.
The best lies carried truth inside them.
At 1:15 a.m., Naomi called her mother.
Clara Ellis answered after four rings.
“Naomi? Is everything okay?”
“No.”
Her mother became fully awake.
“What happened?”
“I need you to tell me about Asterline’s first investment.”
Silence.
Naomi closed her eyes.
That silence answered too much.
“Mom.”
“Come here.”
“Tell me now.”
“Not over the phone.”
“Mom.”
Clara exhaled shakily.
“Your father made a deal with Jonathan Mercer.”
Naomi gripped the phone.
“What deal?”
“Jonathan believed your software would become valuable.”
“He invested?”
“Secretly.”
“Why secretly?”
“Because Roland had just started dating you.”
Naomi stopped.
That timeline changed everything.
Her father and Jonathan Mercer had known each other through commercial real estate.
If Jonathan invested in Naomi’s company while his son was dating her, disclosure would have mattered.
“Did Roland know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I truly don’t.”
“Did Dad?”
“Samuel believed Roland did not.”
Naomi stood and walked toward the window.
“Why hide it from me?”
“Because you would have refused the money.”
“Yes.”
“You needed it.”
“That was my decision.”
“I know.”
“No, Mom. You don’t get to say that now.”
Her mother began to cry.
Naomi hated the sound.
But she was too angry to comfort her.
“Was the investment equity?”
“No.”
“What was it?”
“A convertible note.”
Naomi’s heart stopped.
Convertible.
That meant the initial investment might later convert into ownership under specified conditions.
“What conditions?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is the agreement?”
“Your father kept a copy.”
“Where?”
“In the old house.”
Naomi ended the call twenty minutes later.
At dawn, she and Beatrix drove to Clara’s home in Westchester.
The agreement was inside Samuel’s locked filing cabinet.
Eleven pages.
Dated seven years before Naomi married Roland.
Epsilon Ventures invested two million dollars.
Conversion rights triggered only if Asterline were sold before repayment.
But the note had been repaid.
Naomi found the receipt.
Principal.
Interest.
Full discharge.
She exhaled.
“The investment doesn’t give Mercer ownership.”
“No,” Beatrix said.
“But Camille knew about it.”
“That means she has access to historical files most people don’t.”
Naomi flipped through the pages.
Something fell from between them.
A handwritten letter from Jonathan Mercer to Samuel Ellis.
Naomi read silently.
Sam, I am not backing the company because our children are dating. I am backing Naomi because she sees fraud before anyone else does. One day Roland may need someone like that near him. I only hope he is wise enough not to resent her for it.
Naomi read the sentence twice.
Roland may need someone like that.
Beatrix watched her.
“Jonathan respected you.”
“Maybe.”
Naomi turned the page.
A second paragraph changed the meaning.
I have concerns about certain people advising the boys, particularly Graham. If anything happens to me, do not allow Vale to influence Naomi’s company.
Naomi looked up.
“Graham Vale.”
“Seven years before Jonathan died.”
So Vale’s influence was not new.
Jonathan had distrusted his own estate attorney long before his death.
Naomi checked the date.
The letter had been written three months after Asterline’s founding.
Years before Camille entered Naomi’s life.
Or so she believed.
Her mother entered the room carrying coffee.
Naomi showed her the letter.
“Did Dad ever mention Vale?”
Clara sat slowly.
“Once.”
“What did he say?”
“That Jonathan believed Vale was moving money between family companies without sufficient explanation.”
Beatrix asked, “Did Samuel report it?”
“I don’t know.”
Naomi’s mother looked at her daughter.
“Your father became afraid near the end.”
“Afraid of what?”
“He said someone had asked about the original Asterline note.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“When?”
“About a month before he died.”
Naomi’s grief sharpened.
Samuel Ellis had died of a heart attack at sixty-seven.
No mystery.
No suspicious circumstances.
She refused to invent one.
But his fear mattered.
“What did Dad do with the information?” Naomi asked.
Clara looked toward the cabinet.
“He made a copy of something.”
“What?”
“I never saw it.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Naomi searched every file.
Nothing.
Then Beatrix noticed a notation written inside the cabinet door.
Three numbers.
14–22–6.
“Could be a combination,” Beatrix said.
“For what?”
Clara looked startled.
“Samuel had a storage unit.”
Two hours later, they stood before Unit 1422 at a climate-controlled facility in White Plains.
The manager verified Clara as beneficiary of the account.
Inside were boxes of tax records.
Old family photographs.
And one sealed metal case.
Naomi opened it.
Inside were copies of Mercer vendor invoices from nearly a decade earlier.
Several bore Graham Vale’s authorization.
One vendor appeared repeatedly.
Northstar Advisory.
Naomi stared.
Northstar had existed before Camille publicly created it.
Before Naomi’s divorce.
Before Camille’s affair with Roland.
Before Jonathan Mercer died.
Beatrix picked up an incorporation document.
The original owner was not Camille.
It was a trust.
Beneficiary:
ROLAND MERCER.
Naomi stopped breathing.
So Roland had lied.
Northstar had always been his.
Then why was Camille controlling it now?
Naomi looked deeper into the case.
At the bottom lay a photograph.
Jonathan Mercer.
Samuel Ellis.
Graham Vale.
And a much younger woman Naomi recognized instantly.
Camille.
The photograph was dated eleven years ago.
Long before Camille had supposedly met Naomi.
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On the back, Samuel had written four words:
She is not accidental.
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