Chapter 11 - A Mother Turns on Her Son
Margaret Vale looked nothing like the woman Emily remembered.
No pearls.
No perfect hair.
No expensive suit.
She wore plain black trousers and a gray sweater.
Her hands shook.
Emily entered the interview room with Michael.
Margaret stared at her belly.
Then looked away.
Emily sat across from her.
“You wanted to see me.”
Margaret nodded.
“Preston has lost control.”
Emily almost laughed.
“You raised him.”
“I know.”
“You helped him.”
Margaret’s eyes hardened.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Margaret looked toward the observation glass.
“I want a deal.”
Michael responded.
“You are potentially implicated in conspiracy, fraud, kidnapping, and Arthur Harrington’s death.”
Margaret swallowed.
“I can give you Preston.”
Emily stared.
“A mother trading her son.”
Margaret looked at her.
“Don’t pretend you understand mothers.”
Emily’s hand moved over her belly.
“Actually, I’m beginning to.”
Margaret flinched.
Good.
Emily leaned forward.
“You hated my father.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He destroyed Thomas.”
“Thomas stole from him.”
“That was Arthur’s version.”
“We have records.”
Margaret looked away.
Emily continued.
“You spent thirty years blaming my father because your husband was a thief.”
Margaret slammed her palm onto the table.
“Thomas made one mistake!”
“One?”
“He moved money.”
“He intended to return it.”
“He lost our home.”
“Our reputation.”
“Everything.”
“And that justified what you did to my father?”
Margaret’s anger disappeared.
She looked down.
“No.”
Emily had not expected that.
Margaret whispered,
“It started with revenge.”
“Then Preston became obsessed.”
“With Meridian?”
“With you.”
Emily frowned.
“He hated you.”
“No.”
Margaret looked up.
“That would have been easier.”
Emily felt uncomfortable.
“What do you mean?”
“Preston was supposed to marry you.”
“Gain Arthur’s trust.”
“Take control.”
“Then leave.”
“But he fell in love with you.”
Emily stared.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t humiliate someone you love.”
Margaret gave a sad smile.
“You do when love turns into resentment.”
Emily said nothing.
“He spent years knowing everything came from your family.”
“The mansion.”
“The company.”
“The connections.”
“He wanted to believe he had built his own empire.”
“But every time Arthur walked into a room, Preston remembered the truth.”
Emily thought of all the times Preston became angry after meetings with her father.
She had assumed they disagreed about business.
Margaret continued.
“When you became pregnant, Arthur changed the trust.”
“Preston realized he would never truly control Meridian.”
“So he decided to destroy me.”
“He decided to control you.”
“Same thing.”
Margaret did not argue.
Emily leaned forward.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then you’re useless.”
“I know where he’s going.”
Emily waited.
Margaret whispered,
“Meridian Station.”
Michael frowned.
“What is that?”
Margaret looked at Emily.
“Your father’s original data center.”
Emily had never heard of it.
“Where?”
“Beneath the old Harrington research facility.”
Daniel had once mentioned the facility.
Closed fifteen years ago.
Outside the city.
“Why would Preston go there?”
“Because Arthur stored physical access keys there.”
“Access to what?”
“Meridian.”
Emily finally understood.
Even without ownership, Preston could still steal information.
Government contracts.
Technology.
Corporate secrets.
Potentially billions in leverage.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Michael stood.
Margaret grabbed Emily’s hand.
“There’s more.”
Emily pulled away.
“What?”
“Preston knows you transferred voting control.”
Emily stared.
“How?”
“He still has someone on the board.”
“Who?”
Margaret looked toward Michael.
“Charles Whitmore.”
The fifth name on page forty-seven.
Emily remembered him.
Vice chairman.
Her father’s oldest friend.
The man who had hugged her at Arthur’s funeral.
The man who had watched her kneel in the ballroom.
Emily whispered,
“Charles helped him?”
“For years.”
That betrayal hurt differently.
Emily stood.
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
Margaret called after her.
“Emily.”
She turned.
Margaret’s face had changed.
“He will ask you to come.”
“Don’t.”
Emily almost smiled.
“You still think you get to tell me what to do.”
“No.”
Margaret looked at her belly.
“I’m telling you because Preston has nothing left.”
“And men with nothing left become dangerous.”
Emily walked out.
Her phone rang before she reached the elevator.
Preston.
She answered.
“You’re predictable.”
He laughed.
“Mother talked.”
“Yes.”
“She always was weak.”
Emily looked through the glass at Margaret.
“Where are you?”
“You know.”
“Meridian Station.”
“Good.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“No.”
“Then I erase everything Arthur built.”
Emily’s jaw tightened.
“You can’t access it.”
“I can if you bring the biometric key.”
Emily frowned.
“What biometric key?”
Preston laughed.
“Your father really didn’t tell you anything.”
Then the call ended.
Daniel arrived ten minutes later.
Emily asked him one question.
“What biometric key?”
Daniel looked confused.
Then his eyes dropped to Emily’s necklace.
Her father had given it to her on her twenty-first birthday.
A simple gold pendant.
She had worn it for seventeen years.
Daniel whispered,
“Oh my God.”
Emily touched it.
“What?”
“That pendant.”
Daniel carefully opened the back.
Inside was a wafer-thin metallic chip.
Emily stared.
May you like
Her father had hidden Meridian’s final access key around her neck.
And she had carried it into Preston’s house every day for seventeen years.
