Chapter 8 - The Offer
Marcus announced he would settle.
The news traveled through Napa within an hour.
He publicly offered to purchase Samuel’s disputed twenty-percent interest from Claire’s estate claim for eight million dollars, subject to verification.
Claire nearly threw a glass at him.
“You did what?”
They were alone in the library.
“It’s bait.”
“You could have told me.”
“If Graham believes we’re united, he hides.”
“So you humiliate me publicly?”
“I made a credible offer.”
“You made me look like I came here for money.”
Marcus paused.
“That was a mistake.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
Claire paced.
“My father spent thirty years saying he didn’t want Bellamy money.”
“Graham knows that?”
“Maybe.”
“Then you should reject the offer.”
“I was already going to.”
“Publicly.”
She stared.
“You enjoy this.”
“No.”
“You’re finally fighting.”
“Yes.”
Claire stopped.
For the first time, Marcus looked less like the wealthy patriarch from the anniversary and more like Samuel’s brother.
She hated recognizing the similarity.
At noon Claire issued a statement.
She rejected eight million dollars.
She said her claim was about ownership, fraudulent conduct, and clearing Samuel Bellamy’s name.
The response was immediate.
Three hours later, Graham Voss called Marcus.
“I can solve this.”
Marcus activated the recording system Detective Ortiz had authorized for his own incoming calls.
“How?”
“Claire wants attention.”
“She rejected eight million.”
“Because she wants more.”
“What do you suggest?”
“A global settlement.”
“With whom?”
“Caskridge. Claire. Adrian. The board.”
Marcus smiled without humor.
“You’re busy for a retired adviser.”
“I am trying to prevent your family from losing everything.”
“You always say family right before you discuss money.”
Silence.
Then Graham said, “Edward understood something you never did.”
“What?”
“Land survives people.”
Marcus looked at Samuel’s photograph.
“So Samuel was expendable.”
“Samuel was reckless.”
“Did you forge his waiver?”
Graham laughed softly.
“You’re recording me.”
Marcus’s pulse changed.
“You sound paranoid.”
“Edward used to say that when he was losing.”
The call ended.
Ortiz traced nothing useful.
But Graham had reacted.
That night someone entered Claire’s hotel room.
Nothing obvious was stolen.
The burgundy archive box was already in police evidence.
Samuel’s journals were in Naomi’s office safe.
But one item was gone.
The photograph of Samuel and Lydia.
Claire stared at the empty place on the desk.
“Why steal a photograph?”
Marcus examined the room.
“Because of what’s in it.”
Claire frowned.
They obtained a digital scan.
Behind Samuel and Lydia, barely visible between vineyard rows, stood a white utility building.
Marcus magnified it.
“That’s the original records office.”
Claire looked closer.
A man stood in the doorway.
Edward.
Beside him was a woman.
Eleanor.
And beside Eleanor, half obscured—
Graham.
The date handwritten on the photo was September 28, 1994.
Six days after Samuel supposedly vanished.
Claire said, “That doesn’t explain why he wants it.”
Marcus studied Samuel’s hand.
His father was holding something.
A stock book.
The original shareholder register.
Claire whispered, “He had it.”
The photograph proved Samuel possessed the stock book after the alleged waiver.
If he had already relinquished his shares, there was no legitimate reason for him to be guarding the corporation’s original register.
More importantly, Edward, Eleanor, and Graham were all present.
Marcus said, “The picture wasn’t sentimental.”
“It was evidence.”
Someone had stolen the physical original because it captured the conspiracy in one frame.
But Claire had scanned it months earlier.
Another reversal.
The next morning, Adrian announced a tentative agreement with Caskridge.
Marcus learned from a press release.
Under the proposal, Caskridge would extend the loan five years.
In exchange, Bellamy Estate would issue preferred equity convertible into thirty-five percent of the company.
Marcus drove directly to the estate.
“You’re giving Graham a third of Bellamy?”
Adrian stood behind Marcus’s old desk.
“Caskridge is not Graham.”
“Stop saying that.”
“We need liquidity.”
“You’re selling control.”
“I’m saving the vineyard.”
Marcus stared at his son.
Adrian’s voice shook.
“I watched you lose control in three days.”
“So you’re giving it to the man who caused the crisis?”
“I’m solving it.”
Claire stood in the doorway.
“He’s doing exactly what Edward did.”
Adrian snapped.
“This is none of your business.”
“It is literally twenty percent my business.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
Marcus said, “Do not sign anything.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“You’re not CEO.”
“No.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“But I’m still chairman and majority shareholder unless Claire proves otherwise.”
“For now.”
The words changed the room.
Marcus looked at his son.
Adrian regretted them immediately.
Too late.
A messenger arrived ten minutes later with an envelope for Claire.
Inside was Samuel’s stolen photograph.
Returned.
On the back, beneath Samuel’s handwriting, someone had added a new line in black ink.
Take the money, or Marcus loses the vineyard and you lose your father’s name again.
Claire stared at it.
Marcus whispered, “Graham.”
But Detective Ortiz disagreed when she saw the writing.
“This wasn’t written by Graham.”
“How do you know?”
“We have recent handwriting exemplars.”
Claire felt cold.
May you like
Ortiz looked toward the executive wing.
“Someone else is helping him.”
