Chapter 5 - THE TRAP AT THE ALTAR
I gripped the phone.
“What evidence?”
Jonathan took several seconds to answer.
“Your reaction.”
“My reaction to what?”
“To Emily being taken.”
The room became silent.
Thomas leaned closer to the phone.
“Explain.”
Jonathan sounded exhausted.
“Rebecca expected Emily to tell you something before or during the wedding.”
“The note?”
“I didn’t know about the note.”
“Then what?”
“She planned to provoke an incident.”
My stomach turned.
“What kind of incident?”
“She wanted you angry.”
Nathan swore under his breath.
Jonathan continued.
“Angry in public.”
I understood before he finished.
Two hundred witnesses.
Photographers.
Video cameras.
A priest.
Business partners.
Board members.
If Rebecca told me at the altar that Emily would be sent away and I reacted badly, someone could edit the scene into whatever story they needed.
A grieving widower.
Emotionally unstable.
Violent.
Unable to make rational decisions concerning his child or the family trust.
Thomas asked, “Were medical professionals involved?”
“One.”
“Name.”
“Dr. Adrian Mercer.”
I knew him.
Rebecca had introduced us six months earlier.
A psychiatrist.
She had claimed he was an old family friend.
I felt sick.
“He evaluated me?”
“Indirectly.”
“That’s impossible.”
“He wrote observations based on Rebecca’s statements.”
Thomas muttered, “That wouldn’t hold up properly in court.”
“It didn’t need to hold forever,” Jonathan replied.
“Just long enough for an emergency petition.”
Thomas looked at me.
That was the phrase that mattered.
Emergency petition.
A judge could temporarily transfer authority while facts were investigated.
Days could become weeks.
Weeks could become months.
And during that time, board votes could happen.
Assets could move.
Contracts could be approved.
“So they take Emily,” I said.
“You lose control.”
“I react.”
“They file.”
“And Jonathan becomes trustee.”
Silence.
I stared at the phone.
“Which makes you the most important person in the room.”
Jonathan’s voice cracked.
“I made a mistake.”
Nathan laughed bitterly.
“That’s what you call this?”
“I thought Charles wanted leverage for the merger.”
“What merger?” I asked.
No one answered.
I felt my anger sharpen.
“What merger?”
Jonathan finally spoke.
“Wynn Capital has been trying to acquire Carter Development for three years.”
“I rejected them.”
“Yes.”
“They came back through Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
The truth landed with brutal simplicity.
My relationship had started eighteen months after I rejected Charles Wynn’s third acquisition offer.
Rebecca had “accidentally” met me at a charity dinner.
She had known about Laura.
She had known about Emily.
She had known my business.
Maybe there had never been an accident.
Maybe there had never been a romance.
I thought about every dinner.
Every vacation.
Every quiet night after Emily went to sleep.
Every whispered promise.
Every time Rebecca told me I deserved to stop carrying everything alone.
She had been getting close enough to reach the locks.
“When did you realize?” I asked Jonathan.
“This morning.”
“That’s convenient.”
“I saw the Hawthorne transport agreement.”
“You notarized documents.”
“I know.”
“You forged my approval.”
“I didn’t forge your signature.”
“But you knew it wasn’t mine.”
Silence.
That was enough.
Thomas took the phone.
“Mr. Pierce, I strongly recommend you retain criminal counsel and preserve every message, email, draft, recording, and document connected to Rebecca Wynn, Charles Wynn, Dr. Mercer, Hawthorne Academy, and Carter Development.”
Jonathan whispered, “I already copied everything.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere Charles can’t reach.”
“Send it.”
“I want protection.”
Nathan nearly shouted.
“You want protection?”
Thomas held up a hand.
“What kind?”
“From Charles.”
I looked toward the window.
A black sedan had stopped across the street.
Its windows were tinted.
“Daniel?” Thomas asked.
I walked closer.
The sedan remained running.
Then the rear door opened.
A man stepped out.
He was carrying a cardboard archive box.
Jonathan’s voice came through the phone.
“I’m outside.”
I stared at him through the glass.
“Then come in.”
He crossed the street quickly.
But before he reached my driveway, another vehicle turned the corner.
Jonathan stopped.
The color left his face.
May you like
He dropped the box.
Then he ran toward my house.
