Chapter 6 - Six Years Ago
Vivian placed Dad’s cane against the doorway.
“You’ve always had terrible timing, Isabella.”
Ben quietly moved one hand toward his phone.
Vivian noticed.
“Oh, relax.”
She smiled.
“I’m not going to attack anyone.”
“You threatened Dad’s medication.”
“That’s Emily’s interpretation.”
“We heard the recording.”
“A fragment.”
“We watched the video.”
“Another fragment.”
I stepped toward her.
“And David tried to delete the garage access logs.”
Her smile weakened.
“You don’t know that.”
“The system identifies the account.”
“Passwords get shared.”
“Then you won’t mind helping us determine who used it.”
Vivian’s face hardened.
“You came here wanting to hate me.”
“No.”
I looked around Dad’s study.
“My biggest mistake was spending six years trying not to think about you.”
Her expression flickered.
For years, I had replayed the last fight with my father.
I had blamed him.
I had blamed myself.
But Vivian had been there that night.
Standing in the hallway.
Quiet.
Watching.
Now I wondered what I had missed.
“Why did Dad and I really stop speaking?”
Vivian laughed softly.
“You’re asking me?”
“I’m asking whether you interfered.”
“You were twenty-nine years old.”
“Thirty.”
“Old enough to take responsibility.”
“I did.”
My voice stayed calm.
“I left.”
Something in her face told me that wasn’t the answer she expected.
“I left because Dad accused me of trying to force him to choose between you and me.”
“You were.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I asked him why he had sold my mother’s lake house without telling me.”
Vivian said nothing.
The memory returned with painful clarity.
The property had belonged to my mother before she married Dad.
When she died, she left it jointly to us.
Years later, I discovered it had been sold.
Dad told me I had signed the sale authorization.
I insisted I had not.
He showed me the document.
My signature was there.
I had believed he had forged it.
He had believed I was lying.
We said terrible things.
I left Chicago three days later.
“Who prepared that sale?”
I asked.
Vivian’s eyes narrowed.
“You know who.”
I did.
David Mercer.
My father’s lawyer.
Her brother.
Ben looked between us.
“What lake house?”
“Property my mother left me.”
Vivian folded her arms.
“You signed the documents.”
“No.”
“I saw the signature.”
“So did I.”
“Then why are we discussing it?”
“Because I didn’t sign it.”
She smiled.
“That’s convenient.”
I took out my phone.
“Ben.”
He understood.
“Do you have the document?”
“Not with me.”
Dad’s voice came from the hallway.
“I do.”
We turned.
He stood there with Emily supporting him.
His face was pale.
But his eyes were clear.
“Dad, you should be sitting.”
“I’ve done enough sitting.”
Emily looked apologetic.
“He insisted.”
Dad entered the study.
He saw his cane.
Picked it up.
For a second he simply held it.
Then he looked at Vivian.
“You hid this?”
She said nothing.
Dad leaned on it.
His shoulders straightened.
“Answer me.”
“I moved it because you kept trying to walk without supervision.”
“You told everyone I lost it.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From my own cane?”
Vivian looked away.
Dad turned toward me.
“The lake house file is in Chicago First Bank.”
My chest tightened.
“You kept it?”
“I kept everything.”
“Why?”
“Because six months after you left, I began to suspect you had told the truth.”
I stared at him.
“And you didn’t call me?”
Pain crossed his face.
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I called twice.”
“I never received a call.”
“I left messages.”
“Where?”
He gave me my old Seattle number.
I frowned.
“That number was disconnected a month after I moved.”
His face changed.
“I didn’t know.”
“Dad, you had my email.”
“I sent emails.”
My stomach dropped.
“I never received them.”
Vivian shifted.
Tiny movement.
Dad noticed.
So did I.
“What email address?”
He told me.
It was correct.
I opened my phone.
Searched.
Nothing.
Not one message from him.
“Which account did you send them from?”
“My personal address.”
Ben asked.
“Was it managed through the Hale network?”
Dad nodded.
Ben looked toward the disconnected server rack.
“That matters.”
Vivian laughed.
“This is becoming pathetic.”
I turned.
“Why?”
“You two are trying to rewrite six years because you feel guilty.”
Dad stared at her.
“Vivian.”
“What?”
“Did you delete my emails?”
Her eyes hardened.
“No.”
“Did David?”
“No.”
“Did Marcus?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at Ben.
“Can you recover old server backups?”
“If we can find them.”
Dad whispered.
“They’re off-site.”
Vivian turned sharply.
“What?”
He looked at her.
“You didn’t know?”
For the first time, my father smiled.
It was faint.
But it was there.
“Hale Construction kept immutable backups.”
Ben’s eyebrows rose.
“Where?”
“Data center in Wisconsin.”
“Access credentials?”
Dad tapped his cane against the floor.
“Not here.”
Vivian’s face had gone still.
Dad looked at me.
“In my office.”
“At Hale Construction?”
“Yes.”
I checked the time.
Almost six.
“We go tomorrow.”
Vivian stepped forward.
“No.”
Dad looked at her.
“You can’t go anywhere.”
“Watch me.”
“The board has placed you on medical leave.”
His face hardened.
“What?”
Marcus appeared behind her.
He had returned.
And he wasn’t alone.
A man in a charcoal suit stood beside him.
I recognized him.
Thomas Reed.
Chief Financial Officer of Hale Construction.
Dad’s oldest executive after David.
Thomas looked uncomfortable.
“Richard.”
Dad stared at him.
“What is this?”
Thomas removed an envelope from his jacket.
“An emergency board meeting was held this afternoon.”
Dad’s hand tightened around the cane.
“Without me?”
“You’re on medical leave.”
“I’m chairman.”
“Not anymore.”
The words filled the room.
Thomas swallowed.
“The board voted to appoint an interim chair.”
Dad’s face became blank.
“Who?”
Thomas looked toward Vivian.
My stomach dropped.
He answered.
“Marcus.”
Marcus smiled.
May you like
“Effective immediately.”
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