Chapter 2 - WHAT HAPPENS ON FRIDAY
Malcolm Pierce had been part of my life for as long as I could remember.
He attended my school plays.
He sat beside my mother at my graduation.
After my father died, Malcolm was the man who handled the paperwork no one else understood.
When my mother became sick years later, he became even more important.
He managed trusts.
He negotiated board disputes.
He protected family assets.
At least that was what I had always been told.
Maya did not share my nostalgia.
She stared at the security still with the expression of a prosecutor looking at a crime scene.
“How much authority does Pierce currently have?”
“Over the trust?”
“Yes.”
“Almost everything until Friday.”
Maya closed her eyes for a moment.
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
Friday was my twenty-ninth birthday.
Most people thought I was inheriting money.
That was not quite true.
My grandfather had structured the Carlisle Legacy Trust around control, not cash.
I already received income from it.
I already owned beneficial interests in several companies.
But on my twenty-ninth birthday, thirty-four percent of Carlisle Crown Holdings would convert into direct voting shares under my name.
Combined with the twelve percent my mother had transferred to me before her death, I would control forty-six percent of the company.
More importantly, the trust agreement gave me the right to remove the trustee and nominate two board members.
Malcolm’s authority would shrink overnight.
Maya pulled up the forged transfer.
“If Nathan’s document survives until Friday, he gets twenty-two percent.”
“Half of what becomes mine.”
“Yes.”
“And Malcolm keeps control over the trust long enough to recognize it.”
Maya nodded.
My throat went dry.
“So Nathan doesn’t need to own everything.”
“No.”
“He just needs enough.”
“To stop you from controlling the board.”
I looked through the coffee shop window.
The city had gone dark outside.
“And what does Malcolm get?”
“That is what we need to find out.”
The answer arrived twenty minutes later.
Maya’s associate sent an email containing a board agenda that had not yet been distributed to all shareholders.
There was a special meeting scheduled for Friday afternoon.
The agenda contained only three items.
The third made my blood run cold.
Approval of a strategic merger between Carlisle Crown Holdings and Pelham International Luxury Group.
I knew Pelham.
Everyone in our industry did.
They purchased family-owned brands, stripped out real estate, transferred trademarks, sold manufacturing contracts overseas, and usually removed the founding family within two years.
My mother had rejected Pelham three times.
My father had hated them.
Maya scrolled farther.
“Look at the voting requirements.”
The merger needed sixty-seven percent approval.
Malcolm controlled twenty-six percent through trust proxies.
Two loyal directors controlled another eleven.
Nathan’s forged twenty-two would bring the total to fifty-nine.
“He’s still short.”
Maya nodded.
“Eight percent.”
“Celeste?”
“Maybe.”
I shook my head.
“She doesn’t own shares.”
“Then someone else does.”
My phone buzzed.
The number was blocked.
I almost ignored it.
Then a text appeared.
YOU HAVE FOUR DAYS.
DO NOT TRUST THE MAN WHO TAUGHT YOU TO CALL MALCOLM “UNCLE.”
A second message followed.
ASK WHAT CELESTE WAS PAID TO REMOVE FROM YOUR MOTHER’S HOUSE THE NIGHT SHE DIED.
I stared at the screen.
Maya read the message over my shoulder.
Neither of us spoke.
Then another text arrived.
This one contained a photograph.
It showed Celeste leaving my mother’s estate nearly five years earlier.
She was carrying a blue document box.
Across the side of the box, written in my mother’s handwriting, were three words.
THOMAS - PRIVATE RECORDS.
May you like
Thomas was my father’s name.
And according to every official record I had seen since I was seventeen, Thomas Carlisle had been dead for twelve years.
