Chapter 11 - My Uncle’s Price
The email was damaging.
The next name was worse.
Marcus Mercer.
My father’s younger brother.
My uncle.
A man I had barely spoken to in eleven years.
His number appeared repeatedly in Tristan’s phone.
When investigators contacted him, he agreed to come in.
He entered the courthouse carrying a red leather folder.
I almost walked away.
“Nora.”
“How long?”
His face fell.
“I can explain.”
“That is never a good opening.”
He swallowed.
“I found out four years ago.”
“About the forged transfer?”
“Yes.”
I felt rage crawl up my chest.
“And you said nothing.”
“Tristan threatened me.”
“With what?”
“My part in it.”
I stared.
“What part?”
Marcus looked down.
“He paid me.”
My skin went cold.
“How much?”
“One hundred and fifty thousand.”
I laughed once.
Ugly.
Disbelieving.
“My own uncle sold me for a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“No.”
“That is exactly what you did.”
“I took it.”
“At least we agree.”
“I was in debt.”
“Not interested.”
“I hated myself.”
“Still not interested.”
He held out the folder.
“Your father left this with me.”
I didn’t take it.
“Why?”
“He knew you trusted Tristan.”
“That wasn’t a crime.”
“No.”
Marcus’s eyes filled.
“But he didn’t.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“Your dad liked Tristan. He never trusted him.”
“Why?”
“He said Tristan loved being admired too much.”
That sounded painfully like Dad.
Marcus opened the folder.
Inside were copies of the original investment documents.
The grandchildren’s trust.
And a clause nobody had noticed.
If my ownership were reduced through fraud, coercion, or an unauthorized transfer, certain voting rights attached to Dad’s original investment reverted temporarily to the trust.
Leah read it twice.
Then a third time.
“What does this mean?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“It means if the forged transfer is invalid…”
“Yes?”
“…Tristan may never have had legal voting control.”
My heartbeat slowed.
Everything became strangely quiet.
For years he had called himself controlling shareholder.
CEO.
Founder.
Owner.
The entire identity rested on a document he may have fabricated.
Marcus took a step closer.
“There’s more.”
“Of course there is.”
“Your dad kept a sealed voting proxy.”
“For who?”
Marcus looked toward the family room.
“Mason and Lucas.”
I stared at him.
“They weren’t born.”
“The proxy was for any future beneficiaries.”
“That’s insane.”
Marcus almost smiled.
“You knew your father.”
I did.
Dad used to say the only people who disliked paperwork were people planning to lie later.
Leah read the proxy.
Her eyes widened.
“Nora.”
“What?”
“If the fraud clause is triggered, the trust’s voting rights combine with your valid holdings.”
“And?”
She looked directly at me.
“You control the company.”
Not Tristan.
Me.
I sat down.
For thirteen years, Tristan had made me feel like a visitor in the business I helped create.
May you like
Now one sheet of paper from my dead father had done something I had stopped believing was possible.
It put me back in the room.
