Chapter 12 - The Divorce Contingency
Ryan had planned for everything except me learning the truth.
The contingency plan was twenty-seven pages long.
If I filed for divorce before the company sale, Ryan intended to argue that the voting proxy remained temporarily enforceable because dissolving it would cause “irreparable commercial harm.”
His lawyers had already drafted the motion.
They had already prepared declarations.
One was supposedly from Thomas.
One from the company accountant.
And one from a therapist I had never met.
I stopped reading.
“A therapist?”
Naomi took the page.
Her expression hardened.
The declaration described me as emotionally unstable, impulsive, and vulnerable to manipulation by my father.
It suggested my objections to the sale should not be treated as rational business decisions.
I felt nauseated.
“He was going to say I was crazy.”
Dad looked furious.
Naomi remained focused.
“He was going to challenge your capacity long enough to close the transaction.”
The document was unsigned.
But my name was everywhere.
Ryan had prepared to turn my grief over losing my father into evidence against me.
My phone rang.
This time it was Thomas.
I answered.
“Emily.”
His voice sounded weak.
“I need to see you.”
“Why?”
“I found something.”
“What?”
“Not over the phone.”
Naomi shook her head.
I agreed with her.
“I’m not meeting you alone.”
“I understand.”
He gave me an address.
A storage facility twenty minutes from the Bennett house.
Dad recognized it.
“The company archives.”
Thomas continued.
“There’s a box Ryan told me to destroy three years ago.”
I felt a chill.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid I might someday need it.”
At noon, Dad, Naomi, two security officers, and I met Thomas at the facility.
He looked as though he had aged a decade overnight.
We walked between rows of metal shelving.
At the back, Thomas removed a cardboard box marked TAX RECORDS 2019.
Inside were ledgers.
Old phones.
USB drives.
And a small black notebook.
Thomas handed it to me.
Ryan’s handwriting filled the pages.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
The first several pages involved company payments.
Then I found my own name.
E.W.
Beside it were entries for letters intercepted, calls blocked, and account transfers.
Six years of my life reduced to bookkeeping.
Then Naomi turned to the final page.
One line had been underlined twice.
FRIDAY CLOSES EVERYTHING.
Below it was another note.
If E refuses, use Lily.
I looked at Thomas.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.
May you like
It was Lily’s school.
Ryan had just arrived to pick her up.
