Chapter 3 - The Lawyer Who Was Supposed to Protect Me
By eight the next morning, Thomas Voss believed he was having the best day of his career.
He had no idea Nolan was watching every move he made.
Nolan’s people confirmed that Thomas arrived at his office at 7:42 a.m.
At 7:58, he placed a call to a Mexican number registered to a private resort in Cabo.
At 8:11, he moved three encrypted files from the firm’s server to an external drive.
At 8:26, he attempted to access my trust records.
At 8:31, his credentials stopped working.
Nolan had called the managing partner five minutes earlier.
Thomas did not yet know why.
I sat across from Nolan in our father’s office.
“What happens now?”
“We let him panic.”
“You really enjoy this.”
“No.”
“You look like you enjoy it.”
“I enjoy predictable people.”
He handed me a coffee.
“Thomas is predictable.”
My phone rang.
Thomas Voss.
Nolan raised one eyebrow.
“Answer.”
I put the call on speaker.
“Emily.”
Thomas sounded warm.
Concerned.
Professional.
The voice of a man I had trusted.
“I wanted to check in about the revised prenup.”
“What revised prenup?”
A pause.
Very slight.
But it was there.
“The version Derek requested through his counsel.”
“Oh.”
I forced a laugh.
“I’ve been so distracted with the wedding.”
“Of course.”
“What changed?”
“Nothing substantial.”
Nolan’s mouth tightened.
Joint financial authority was apparently “nothing substantial.”
Thomas continued.
“Mostly housekeeping provisions.”
“Should I just sign it?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Nolan’s eyes went cold.
Thomas added quickly.
“We can review it together first, obviously.”
“I trust you.”
I nearly choked on the words.
“That means a great deal, Emily.”
“When can I come in?”
“Why don’t we do tomorrow?”
“Perfect.”
We ended the call.
Nolan leaned back.
“He just advised you to sign away access to roughly a hundred million dollars without explaining the provisions.”
“I heard him.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like breaking something.”
“Useful.”
I glared at him.
He almost smiled.
Then his computer chimed.
An analyst had sent a report.
Nolan read it.
The almost-smile disappeared.
“What?”
“Meridian’s board meets tomorrow at nine.”
“So?”
“They’re voting on an acquisition.”
“Of what?”
He rotated the screen.
My stomach dropped.
Whitmore Logistics Park.
One of the properties listed in Dad’s folder.
“That belongs to me.”
“Technically, it belongs to a holding company that will transfer to your control upon marriage.”
“How can Meridian buy it?”
“They can’t.”
“Then why vote?”
Nolan pointed to the seller authorization.
My forged signature appeared again.
I stood.
“They were going to sell my property before I even knew I owned it?”
“Possibly.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-four million.”
“Dad’s appraisal had it at twenty-eight million nine years ago.”
“Current conservative valuation is sixty-one.”
I stared at him.
“They’re stealing half the value.”
“Yes.”
“And who receives the thirty-four million?”
Nolan clicked.
A shell company.
Blue Crest Advisory.
Registered six months ago in Delaware.
Owner hidden.
“Can we find out?”
“We already did.”
He opened another file.
Beneficial ownership declaration.
Derek Hale.
I actually laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
“So he cheats on me with Clara while stealing my property.”
“There may be another layer.”
“There’s always another layer with you.”
“Because there usually is.”
A second owner appeared.
Twenty-five percent.
Clara Bennett.
My best friend.
My maid of honor.
I stared at her name.
“Bennett?”
“Same last name as you.”
“My legal surname.”
“Yes.”
“Clara’s last name is Morgan.”
“I know.”
“Why would she use Bennett?”
“To make paperwork look connected to you at a casual glance.”
The cruelty of it was almost elegant.
My closest friend had not merely slept with my fiancé.
She had borrowed my name to help steal from me.
I looked at Nolan.
“Destroy the deal.”
“I intend to.”
“Today.”
“No.”
My anger exploded.
“No?”
“We need the board vote.”
“Why?”
“Because attempted fraud is harder to deny once everyone formally acts on it.”
“You want them to vote to steal my building.”
“I want everyone involved to identify themselves.”
The doorbell rang downstairs.
Nolan and I froze.
No one was expected.
Marcus’s voice came through Nolan’s phone.
“Woman at the front gate.”
“Who?”
“She says her name is Laura Hale.”
I stared at Nolan.
Derek’s mother.
I had met her twice.
Elegant.
Reserved.
Strangely distant whenever the wedding was discussed.
“What does she want?”
Marcus answered.
“She says she needs to speak to Emily privately.”
“Did she say why?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Nolan looked at me.
Marcus continued.
May you like
“She says if Emily marries Derek, she may not survive the honeymoon.”
---
