Chapter 3 - The Missing Pages
Adrian had spent most of his adult life believing money made problems easier.
Money bought expertise.
Privacy.
Security.
Options.
But at two in the morning inside a private hospital suite, with his mother weak beneath warmed blankets and a police officer outside the door, six billion dollars felt useless.
“What do you mean the trust is about me?”
Evelyn looked older than he had ever seen her.
“Close the door.”
He did.
“Sit.”
“Mom—”
“Adrian.”
He sat.
Evelyn gathered breath.
“Your father created the Vale Family Voting Trust twenty-three years ago.”
“I know.”
“No. You know the version we allowed you to know.”
Adrian stared.
His late father, Richard Vale, had died nine years earlier. Evelyn had become chairwoman emerita of Vale Meridian while Adrian expanded the company internationally.
“What version did you hide?”
“The original trust holds a nine-percent block of Vale Meridian voting shares.”
“That block transfers to me when you die.”
“Normally.”
Adrian frowned.
Evelyn continued.
“Three years ago, after your litigation with Northbridge Capital, we amended it. The shares pass to you immediately if I become incapacitated, but only after certification by two independent physicians and confirmation by the trust attorney.”
“So?”
“So somebody created another amendment.”
Adrian became still.
“What amendment?”
“One naming a temporary co-trustee during incapacity.”
“Who?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“Celeste.”
He laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“That’s impossible.”
“I saw the document.”
“When?”
“Four days ago.”
“Signed by you?”
“A signature resembling mine.”
His face tightened.
“Forged.”
“Yes.”
“And Voss?”
“His name appeared on the medical certification.”
Adrian stood.
Dr. Malcolm Voss had treated Evelyn intermittently for eight years.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted proof before accusing the woman you intend to marry.”
“You had proof.”
“I had paper.”
“That is proof.”
Evelyn’s eyes sharpened.
“Not against a woman who has spent months making you believe I dislike her because I can’t release control.”
Adrian looked away.
She had done exactly that.
He hated realizing it.
“The original pages are missing,” Evelyn said.
“From the folder?”
“Yes.”
“What did they establish?”
“That the co-trustee provision never existed.”
Adrian paced toward the window.
“What could Celeste do with nine percent?”
“Not sell it outright.”
“Then why risk this?”
“Voting rights.”
His head turned.
Vale Meridian was preparing for a shareholder vote concerning the acquisition of Helix Port Systems, the largest deal Adrian had ever attempted.
The nine-percent family block could decide it.
“The Helix vote is in twelve days.”
“I know.”
Adrian stared at his mother.
“You think someone wants control of those votes?”
“I think someone paid attention to your calendar.”
Meanwhile, Naomi returned to the mansion with Detective Ortiz.
Crime-scene technicians photographed Evelyn’s bedroom.
The white pillow was bagged.
The medicine bottle disappeared into evidence.
The trust folder was collected.
Naomi stood near the writing desk.
One drawer was slightly open.
She remembered closing it after breakfast that morning.
“Detective.”
Ortiz glanced over.
“This drawer.”
“What about it?”
“It wasn’t open earlier.”
Ortiz put on gloves.
Inside lay stationery, two fountain pens, Evelyn’s reading glasses, and a photograph of Richard Vale.
Nothing else.
Ortiz tested the drawer.
It stopped halfway.
“Something’s blocking it.”
She removed the drawer.
A folded sheet of paper had fallen behind it.
Naomi recognized Evelyn’s handwriting.
Ortiz opened it carefully.
Three names had been written.
CELESTE ARDEN.
MALCOLM VOSS.
HARBOR CREST CONSULTING.
Below them:
$2,000,000?
A fourth line had been underlined twice.
ASK LYDIA ABOUT MARTIN ARDEN.
Naomi read it.
“Who’s Lydia?”
“Evelyn’s attorney. Lydia Shaw.”
“And Martin Arden?”
Naomi’s skin prickled.
“Celeste’s father.”
Ortiz looked at her.
“You know anything about him?”
“No.”
But Naomi remembered something.
Seven months earlier, the night Celeste first came to dinner, Evelyn had dropped her wineglass when Adrian introduced her.
Not when he said Celeste.
When he said Arden.
Naomi had assumed the glass slipped.
Now she knew better.
At the hospital the next morning, Adrian received a call from his chief financial officer.
“Adrian, we have a problem.”
“What kind?”
“Someone accessed the confidential Helix vote projections last night.”
Adrian stepped into the hallway.
“From where?”
“That’s what makes no sense.”
“Tell me.”
“The credentials belong to your mother’s family office.”
“She’s been in the hospital.”
“I know.”
“Who used them?”
“We’re tracing the login.”
Adrian looked through the glass at Evelyn.
“Lock every family-office credential.”
“Already done.”
“And Marcus?”
“Yes?”
“Pull every transaction involving Harbor Crest Consulting.”
There was a pause.
“How do you know that name?”
Adrian’s pulse changed.
“You’ve seen it?”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Three weeks ago. Harbor Crest received a consulting payment from someone attached to the Helix acquisition.”
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
The exact number Evelyn had written.
“Who authorized it?”
“That’s the problem.”
“Who?”
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Marcus answered.
“Dr. Malcolm Voss.”
