Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN BESIDE MERebecca Sloan had been my attorney for nine months.
She could sit across from you at dinner without speaking for twenty minutes and somehow make you feel as though you had confessed to something.
That morning, she sat at the end of the Crosswell boardroom table wearing navy silk and pearls.
Perfect posture.
Perfect hair.
Perfect contempt.
“My father is dead,” I said. “So if you're planning to insult him, choose your words carefully.”
Eleanor's smile didn't change.
“I admired Harrison.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“That's a lie.”
His mother ignored him.
“The mistake Harrison made,” she continued, “was believing he could control everyone after he died.”
Samuel stepped forward.
“What are you referring to?”
Eleanor looked at him.
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Samuel's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
“Samuel?”
He exhaled.
“Harrison created additional conditions in the trust.”
My stomach tightened.
“What conditions?”
Rebecca pulled out a chair.
“Mara, sit down.”
I did.
Not because I was afraid of Eleanor.
Because I had given birth the previous day and my body was reminding me that adrenaline was not medicine.
Ivy's car seat rested beside me.
She slept through everything.
Samuel opened the trust binder.
“Your father suspected that once the controlling shares vested, Julian might challenge Ivy's legitimacy, your competence, or the trust itself.”
Julian slammed his palm against the table.
“This is insane.”
Rebecca turned.
“Sit down or leave.”
“This is my company.”
One of the older board members cleared his throat.
“Currently, that's precisely what we're determining.”
Julian stared at him.
The man looked away.
Samuel continued.
“Harrison built safeguards.”
“What safeguards?” I asked.
“If anyone with a material interest attempted to coerce you into waiving the beneficiary's rights, the trustee was authorized to freeze certain voting privileges pending review.”
My eyes moved to the NDA.
Rebecca had placed it on the table.
Julian saw me looking.
“That wasn't coercion.”
“You appeared in a maternity ward with paperwork forty minutes after I delivered.”
“I offered you money.”
“From stolen funds.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Samuel turned a page.
“There's more.”
Of course there was.
Dad never did anything halfway.
“If evidence emerged that trust funds had been misappropriated by an officer of Crosswell Holdings, the trust could exercise an immediate audit and demand temporary removal of that officer.”
Every director looked at Julian.
He leaned both hands on the table.
“You cannot remove me.”
Eleanor finally spoke.
“No, Julian.”
Her tone was almost gentle.
“But we can.”
He turned to her.
Something passed between them.
Not surprise.
History.
“You knew?” I asked.
Eleanor looked at me.
“I knew Harrison had structured protections. I didn't know the shares would vest in your child.”
“Then why help Julian?”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Who said I helped him?”
Julian laughed.
“You want to do this now?”
“Do what?”
“Pretend.”
For the first time, Eleanor's composure cracked.
“Careful.”
“No. You wanted Crosswell expanded. You wanted the Bennett money. You introduced me to Pritchard.”
Samuel froze.
“Lawrence Pritchard?”
Julian realized his mistake immediately.
Rebecca looked at Samuel.
“Who's Pritchard?”
“Former trust administrator.”
Former.
The word sat heavily in the room.
Samuel turned to Julian.
“You dealt directly with him?”
Julian didn't answer.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
Samuel pulled out his phone.
“Detective Alvarez needs to hear that.”
Julian pointed at him.
“You call the police from my boardroom and I'll—”
“What?” I asked.
He turned toward me.
“Finish that sentence.”
He didn't.
The board chairman, Charles Merritt, folded his hands.
“Mr. Cross, given the active investigation and the trust provisions presented this morning, I am calling for an immediate vote regarding temporary suspension of your executive authority.”
Julian stared at him.
“You work for me.”
“No,” Charles said. “I work for the corporation.”
One by one, hands rose around the table.
Julian watched his empire vote against him.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleanor raised hers last.
Eleven.
Julian looked at his mother.
“You voted for this?”
“I voted to keep the company alive.”
“You built this with me.”
“No,” Eleanor said quietly. “Harrison's money built it. You merely convinced yourself nobody would remember.”
Julian's face changed.
I had never seen him look so young.
So furious.
So exposed.
Charles turned toward me.
“Ms. Bennett, until the forensic audit is completed, the trust is the majority voting shareholder. As trustee for Ivy Bennett Cross, you may appoint an interim executive.”
I stared at him.
“I gave birth yesterday.”
A few people almost smiled.
“I have no intention of running a multinational company from a maternity ward.”
“Understandable.”
“Keep the existing operational team. Rebecca and Samuel will supervise the audit. Any expenditure over fifty thousand dollars requires dual approval.”
Julian stared at me.
“You've been planning this.”
“No. I'm improvising.”
That seemed to frighten him more.
He walked toward the door.
His key card didn't open it.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Charles said, “Your executive access was suspended when the vote concluded.”
Julian slowly turned.
The humiliation in his eyes was volcanic.
“You're going to regret this.”
I looked at the man I had once loved.
“No, Julian. I regret everything before this.”
Security escorted him downstairs.
I thought that would be the end of the morning.
It wasn't.
Twenty minutes later, Samuel received an email from the audit team.
He read it once.
Then again.
“What?” Rebecca asked.
Samuel looked at Eleanor.
“You knew about Pritchard.”
Eleanor didn't respond.
Samuel turned the laptop toward us.
“There were transfers before Harrison died.”
My chest tightened.
“How long before?”
“Almost a year.”
“Julian started stealing while Dad was alive?”
Samuel shook his head.
“Not Julian.”
Everyone looked at him.
He clicked open a scanned authorization.
At the bottom was my father's signature.
Above it was another signature.
Eleanor Cross.
Julian's mother didn't blink.
Rebecca stood.
“Mrs. Cross?”
Eleanor looked out the window.
“I wondered when you'd find that.”
I felt cold.
“Find what?”
She turned back to me.
“Your father paid me three million dollars.”
“For what?”
Eleanor's face lost every trace of arrogance.
“For keeping Julian away from you.”
Nobody spoke.
I stared at her.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
She reached into her handbag.
She removed an old envelope.
My name was written across the front.
In my father's handwriting.
MARA.
My breath stopped.
Eleanor slid it toward me.
“Harrison gave me this two days before he died.”
I didn't touch it.
“Why do you have a letter from my father?”
“Because he made me promise not to give it to you unless Julian did exactly what he feared he would do.”
My hands trembled.
“And what was that?”
Eleanor looked toward the boardroom door her son had just been escorted through.
“Try to destroy you for your inheritance.”
I picked up the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
The first sentence made my vision blur.
Mara, if you're reading this, then I was wrong about how much time you had.
I kept reading.
By the third paragraph, I understood why Eleanor had taken my father's money.
By the fifth, I understood why Julian had been so desperate to get me to sign.
And by the final line, I realized there was one person involved in the theft who hadn't been mentioned yet.
Someone I trusted.
Someone who had visited me in the hospital the night before Ivy was born.
My father's final sentence read:
Do not trust Lawrence Pritchard, Julian Cross—or Rebecca Sloan.
May you like
I slowly lifted my eyes.
Rebecca was sitting directly across from me.
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