Chapter 2: The Seventy-Five Percent Secret
"Richard, sir, this is completely out of context.""
Brandon stepped toward my phone.
His voice had changed.
Five minutes earlier, he'd been laughing loudly enough for half the garden to hear him.
Now he sounded like a man standing in front of a firing squad.
My father didn't respond immediately.
I could almost picture him sitting in his Atlanta office, glasses resting low on his nose, reviewing the situation with the same calm expression he'd worn during every difficult business negotiation.
"Out of context?"" Dad finally asked.
Brandon swallowed.
"Emily slipped. I was trying to—"
"Don't insult my intelligence.""
Vanessa quietly moved away from him.
I noticed the movement.
So did Brandon.
He grabbed her wrist.
"Stay here.""
She pulled free.
My father continued.
"When I introduced you to my daughter, you were running a company with eleven employees and a debt problem you couldn't solve. Do you remember that?""
"Of course, sir.""
"Who provided the original twelve million dollars?""
Brandon glanced around at the watching guests.
"Your investment group.""
"No. My family trust provided the money. My lawyers structured the investment, and the Carter family retained seventy-five percent of the voting rights.""
Brandon's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Dad wasn't finished.
"You were given the opportunity to run the company because I believed you were a capable businessman. I also believed you understood the difference between ownership and management.""
Brandon forced a nervous smile.
"Sir, I'm grateful for everything you've done.""
"Then start acting like it.""
I stood beside the pool, shivering.
My mother approached with a large white towel and wrapped it around my shoulders.
"Come inside, sweetheart.""
I shook my head.
"Not yet, Mom.""
She looked at Brandon.
Her expression was colder than I'd ever seen it.
"Your father is going to hear about this.""
Brandon rubbed his forehead.
"Margaret, please. This is a private disagreement between a husband and wife.""
My mother laughed once.
"Private? You humiliated her in front of one hundred people.""
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
"Mrs. Carter, I don't think anyone meant for this to become such a big deal.""
I turned toward her.
"Then why were you laughing?""
She blinked.
"Excuse me?""
"You were laughing when I came out of the water. You were laughing when he told me to leave. You were laughing when he called me embarrassing.""
Vanessa folded her arms.
"Brandon and I have a different sense of humor.""
"Apparently.""
She glanced at Brandon.
He looked away.
That was the first crack in their little partnership.
Then my father spoke again.
"Emily, I need you to listen carefully.""
"Yes, Dad.""
"Our accounting team flagged a transfer this afternoon. Two million, eight hundred thousand dollars. It came from one of the company's operating accounts.""
I frowned.
"What transfer?""
Brandon's face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
My father continued.
"The money went to a private account registered under Vanessa Reed.""
The sound of a champagne glass hitting the stone terrace interrupted him.
Vanessa had dropped hers.
It shattered beside her heels.
"That's impossible," she whispered.
Brandon turned sharply.
"Vanessa, don't.""
I stared at him.
"You transferred company money to her?""
"It's not what you think.""
"Then explain it.""
"Emily, this is a corporate matter.""
"You just told everyone I was being dramatic about a swimming pool. Now you're telling me I can't ask about almost three million dollars?""
Several guests exchanged glances.
One of Brandon's business partners, a gray-haired man named Thomas Whitaker, stepped closer.
"Brandon, what transfer is Richard referring to?""
Brandon adjusted his jacket.
"An internal restructuring payment. It's being handled by our finance department.""
Thomas frowned.
"Then why was it sent to your secretary's private account?""
Nobody answered.
Vanessa took a step backward.
"Brandon, you said the payment was approved.""
His eyes snapped toward her.
"Not now.""
"You told me everything was signed.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What was signed?""
My father answered before Brandon could.
"The transfer was accompanied by a shareholder consent form. It supposedly authorizes the family trust to surrender its controlling voting rights.""
I stared at the phone.
"What?""
"Your signature appears on the document, Emily.""
The garden seemed to tilt.
"My signature?""
"Yes.""
I shook my head.
"I never signed anything.""
"I know.""
Brandon suddenly reached toward the phone.
"Emily, hang up!""
I stepped away.
My father continued.
"Our legal team has already obtained a copy. The signature appears to have been witnessed by someone named Daniel Reed.""
Vanessa's face went completely white.
I turned toward her.
"Daniel?""
She didn't answer.
A man standing near the outdoor bar slowly put down his drink.
He was in his early thirties, wearing a navy suit and holding his phone.
Daniel Reed.
Vanessa's husband.
I'd met him twice before.
The first time had been at a company Christmas dinner. The second had been at a charity fundraiser, where he'd spent most of the evening looking uncomfortable while Vanessa posed beside Brandon for photographs.
Now he was walking toward us.
His phone was raised.
"Brandon," Daniel said.
My husband turned.
"Daniel, this isn't the time.""
Daniel glanced at his wife.
Then at the phone in my hand.
"Actually, I think it is.""
He stopped a few feet away.
"I've been trying to reach you for three days.""
Brandon's face tightened.
"What are you talking about?""
Daniel lifted his phone.
"I found something in Vanessa's home office.""
Vanessa whispered his name.
"Daniel, please.""
He didn't look at her.
Instead, he turned the screen toward me.
A photograph showed a document lying on a desk.
At the bottom was my signature.
Beside it was Daniel's name.
And beneath the signature, written in blue ink, were four words.
Witnessed in my presence.
Daniel looked directly at Brandon.
"I never witnessed Emily signing anything.""
May you like
Then he pressed play on an audio recording.
And the first voice I heard was my husband's.
