Chapter 2: Twelve Lawyers and One Sealed Envelope
“Get these people off my property!””
Richard's voice echoed through the foyer as though shouting could somehow change the names on the documents in Arthur Bennett's hands.
Vanessa appeared behind him, holding a glass of sparkling water.
“What is all this?”” she demanded.
“Richard, I thought you said you owned everything here.””
“I do.””
Arthur calmly adjusted his glasses.
“Then you'll have no trouble explaining why the property deed lists Whitmore Residential Holdings LLC as the legal owner.””
He handed Richard a copy.
Richard snatched it.
His eyes moved across the first page, then returned to the top.
“That can't be right.””
“It is correct,” Arthur replied.
“The property was purchased through a subsidiary of the Whitmore family investment group. Your company has occupied it under a residential lease agreement.””
Richard's fingers tightened around the paper.
“I've paid for renovations. I've paid for the staff. I've paid every bill in this house.””
“Those payments are recorded,” Arthur said.
“They don't make you the owner.””
Vanessa lowered her glass.
“Richard, you told me the house was worth twelve million dollars.””
“It is worth approximately that amount.””
“So why doesn't your name appear on the deed?””
He shot her a furious look.
“Not now, Vanessa.””
I sat on the porch steps, watching the man who'd called me worthless struggle to understand a document he'd never bothered to read.
Arthur approached me with a thick wool coat.
“Your father asked me to make sure you're comfortable first.””
“Thank you.””
He noticed my bare feet and immediately called one of the staff members waiting beside the vehicles.
“Please bring the spare blanket and a pair of slippers from the car.””
Richard watched this small act of kindness with growing suspicion.
“Emily,” he called, “what is this? Did you arrange this little performance?””
I looked at him.
“No.””
“Then explain it.””
“Why should I?””
His face reddened.
“Because you're my wife!””
The words would have been funny if they hadn't hurt so much.
“Your wife?”” I repeated.
“You threw me out of our home ten minutes ago.””
“Our home?””
He pointed toward the mansion.
“My home. You heard me.””
Arthur cleared his throat.
“Mr. Collins, I recommend you choose your words carefully. Your conduct this afternoon may become relevant to several matters currently under review.””
Richard turned on him.
“What matters?””
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the driveway as another vehicle arrived.
A woman in a navy suit stepped out, carrying a tablet and a folder marked Collins Development Group.
“Arthur,” she said, “I've obtained the preliminary financial records you requested.””
Richard went pale.
“Why do you have records from my company?””
“Because your company has received financing from entities affiliated with our client,” Arthur replied.
“And because certain contractual obligations may now require immediate review.””
Richard shook his head.
“This is ridiculous. My company is privately owned.””
“Your company is incorporated as a private entity,” Arthur said.
“That doesn't mean it has no investors, lenders, or contractual obligations.””
Vanessa placed her glass on a nearby table.
“Richard, tell me what's happening.””
“Nothing is happening.””
“Then why are there twelve lawyers standing outside our house?””
“Because Emily is throwing a tantrum!””
I rose slowly.
“I'm not throwing anything, Richard.””
He stared at me.
For the first time since I'd known him, I saw uncertainty in his eyes.
It wasn't remorse.
It was fear that he had miscalculated something.
Arthur returned to the porch and lowered his voice.
“Your father is on his way. Until then, I'd prefer that you remain here.””
“Can you tell me what he intends to do?””
“I can tell you what he won't do,” Arthur said.
“He won't allow anyone to intimidate you into signing anything, surrendering anything, or returning to that house against your wishes.””
My throat tightened.
“Thank you.””
Behind us, Richard suddenly stepped onto the porch.
“Emily, I want to speak to you privately.””
Arthur moved between us.
“Any conversation can take place with counsel present.””
“I don't need your permission to speak to my wife!””
“Then you should have considered that before forcing her from the property.””
Richard's nostrils flared.
“You have no idea who you're dealing with.””
Arthur gave him a level look.
“Actually, Mr. Collins, that is precisely why we're here.””
Richard turned back toward me.
“Emily, whatever you've told these people, we can work this out. We've had disagreements before.””
I stared at him.
“Disagreements?””
“You know how stressful things have been lately.””
“You threw my clothes down the stairs.””
“I was angry.””
“You pushed me outside.””
“I didn't mean for you to fall.””
“You laughed when Vanessa threw our wedding photograph in the trash.””
Richard glanced toward the doorway.
Vanessa folded her arms.
“I didn't force you to marry her,” she said.
“If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for choosing the wrong woman.””
For the first time, Richard looked genuinely embarrassed.
But even then, he didn't defend me.
He turned back to me instead.
“Let's forget what happened. Come inside. We can talk about the baby.””
I felt my heart twist at the word.
“You knew I was pregnant?””
“You just told me.””
“And you still threw me out.””
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
A black SUV pulled up behind the others.
The driver stepped out and opened the rear door.
My father emerged wearing a charcoal overcoat, a dark suit, and the expression of a man who had spent his life solving problems without raising his voice.
Edward Whitmore was sixty-two years old. He had built a modest regional investment firm into a multinational financial group, and he rarely appeared in public unless a major acquisition or crisis demanded his attention.
Richard knew his face.
Every businessman in Atlanta knew his face.
My father had appeared on the covers of financial magazines Richard kept stacked in his office. He'd been quoted in newspapers Richard read every morning. His investment group had financed projects Richard had spent years trying to join.
But Richard had never connected the quiet man I'd described as my father with the billionaire whose approval he desperately wanted.
My father walked past the attorneys.
He saw my bare feet.
Then he saw the suitcase.
His face changed.
“Oh, sweetheart.””
He removed his coat and draped it around my shoulders before crouching to examine my feet.
“Are you hurt?””
“No, Dad.””
“Did he touch you?””
“He grabbed my arm. I'm okay.””
My father looked at the faint red marks near my elbow.
He didn't shout.
He didn't threaten Richard.
He simply stood, turned toward the doorway, and looked directly at my husband.
“Richard Collins.””
Richard swallowed.
“Mr. Whitmore. I can explain.””
“I'm sure you can.””
“There's been a misunderstanding.””
My father glanced at Vanessa, then at the necklace around her throat.
“Is that so?””
Richard looked toward the diamonds.
Vanessa instinctively covered them with her hand.
My father extended his palm.
“Arthur, please give Mr. Collins the envelope.””
Arthur handed Richard a sealed document packet.
Richard tore it open impatiently.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
His lips parted.
“No,” he whispered.
He flipped backward through the documents, searching for something that might contradict what he was seeing.
“This can't be possible.””
My father took my hand.
“What's wrong, Richard? You seemed very confident about who owned everything a few minutes ago.””
Richard lifted his eyes.
For the first time, he looked at me as though I were a stranger.
“Emily,” he said, his voice shaking.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
I looked at the necklace Vanessa was still wearing.
“Because I wanted you to love me for who I was.””
My father squeezed my hand.
“And now,” he said, “we need to discuss the company you believe you own.””
Richard looked down at the final page.
The signature at the bottom belonged to someone he recognized.
Someone who had approved the financing that kept his company alive.
Someone whose name appeared beside the words controlling secured creditor.
His face drained of color.
Because the signature wasn't mine.
It was my father's.
May you like
And the agreement contained a clause Richard had apparently never bothered to read.
A clause that could change the future of his entire company.
