Chapter 4 - Nathan’s Last Argument
Cole recovered quickly.
“That means nothing.”
Helen’s fingers tightened around the bottle.
“How would you know?”
“Because medication errors happen.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“I didn’t say it was an error.”
Cole looked at her.
Silence spread across the porch.
Then he smiled.
A controlled, irritated smile.
“You’re grieving. All of you.”
He turned to Wren.
“And grief can make people remember things that never happened.”
Wren shrank behind Evelyn.
“Get off my property,” Evelyn said.
Cole left.
At noon, Evelyn met Nathan’s estate attorney, Leah Moreno.
Leah was forty-six, brisk, unsentimental, and visibly annoyed that another lawyer had been discussing estate assets with Evelyn without her present.
“You do not sign anything Cole Barrett puts in front of you,” she said.
“Was the house pledged?”
“I’m checking.”
“Can Cole force a sale?”
“Not simply because he says so.”
“What about Nathan’s shares?”
“The Mercer Family Trust holds them. You are successor trustee.”
Evelyn blinked.
“Then why does Cole keep saying I don’t control them?”
“Because Nathan executed a voting proxy six days before his death.”
Evelyn stared.
“To Cole?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“One hundred eighty days.”
“So he does control the shares.”
“For voting purposes, temporarily.”
“Why would Nathan do that if he suspected Cole was stealing?”
Leah folded her hands.
“That is the question.”
She produced a copy.
Evelyn studied the signature.
It looked like Nathan’s.
But Wren’s words echoed.
Dad knew you were stealing.
“Can it be forged?”
“Anything can be forged.”
“Can we challenge it?”
“With evidence.”
Evidence.
Everyone kept asking Evelyn for evidence.
Her daughter had fear.
Her mother-in-law had a bottle.
Nathan had left pencil marks.
None of it was enough.
That afternoon, Evelyn entered Mercer Residential Technologies for the first time since the funeral.
Nathan’s name still stood in brushed steel letters inside the lobby.
NATHAN MERCER — FOUNDER.
Below it, someone had placed a black ribbon.
Cole’s assistant tried to stop her from entering the executive floor.
Evelyn walked past anyway.
Cole was meeting with the board.
Through the glass wall she recognized five directors.
Cole saw her.
He excused himself and stepped outside.
“You can’t be here.”
“I own fifty-two percent of this company.”
“The trust does.”
“I am the trustee.”
“And I hold the voting proxy.”
“For another hundred and thirty-one days.”
“Which is a long time when banks are nervous.”
Evelyn lowered her voice.
“I want the Bracken Ridge files.”
“No.”
“You said it was Nathan’s project.”
“It was.”
“Then show me.”
“They contain privileged company information.”
“You’re using my dead husband as a shield.”
Cole leaned closer.
“You should ask yourself why Nathan gave me his voting rights.”
“I am.”
“And?”
“I think either you forged his signature or he was buying time.”
Cole’s face hardened.
“Be careful.”
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“That word.”
He said nothing.
She walked past him into Nathan’s old office.
Cole followed.
“You have no authorization—”
Evelyn stopped.
Nathan’s office had been emptied.
Family photographs gone.
Books removed.
Desk drawers open.
“What did you do?”
“Corporate records were transferred.”
“Where are his personal things?”
“Storage.”
“Which storage?”
“I don’t know.”
She turned.
“You emptied his office before his body was cold.”
“That’s unfair.”
“My daughter said she saw you in his study after midnight. You lied about it. His medication changed. Millions went to a company he apparently didn’t trust. And you’re trying to sell our home.”
Cole’s nostrils flared.
“Do you want to know what Nathan and I argued about the last week he was alive?”
Evelyn said nothing.
“He wanted to confess.”
“To what?”
“Bracken Ridge.”
Her heart pounded.
Cole lowered his voice.
“Nathan created it.”
“You’re lying.”
“He moved money out of Mercer Residential to hide losses from a failed acquisition.”
“How much?”
“More than six million dollars over three years.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“He would never—”
“You keep saying that.”
Cole opened a drawer and removed a photocopy.
A wire authorization.
BRACKEN RIDGE CONSULTING LLC.
$780,000.
Approved by Nathan Mercer.
The signature looked genuine.
Evelyn’s certainty fractured.
Cole watched it happen.
“He was going to tell the board,” Cole said. “Then he died.”
“And now you’re blaming him.”
“I’m protecting his family from what happens when lenders discover fraud.”
Evelyn took the copy.
“I’m keeping this.”
Cole didn’t stop her.
That frightened her more.
That evening, she showed it to Helen.
Helen stared at Nathan’s signature.
“It looks real.”
Evelyn sat in silence.
Wren hovered in the doorway.
“You believe him now,” she whispered.
“No.”
“You do.”
“I’m trying to understand.”
Wren’s face hardened in a way Evelyn had never seen before.
“Dad said grown-ups believe papers more than people.”
Then she ran upstairs.
Helen watched her go.
“She’s right about one thing.”
“What?”
“We’re staring at the paper Cole wanted us to see.”
May you like
Helen picked up the old medication bottle.
“We need to find the papers he doesn’t.”
