Chapter 6 - THE BOARDROOM WHERE MY HUSBAND STOPPED LAUGHINGAt 8:45 the following morning, I entered Prescott Global's headquarters through the front doors.
This time, I wasn't wearing a coat over ordinary clothes.
I wore a tailored charcoal suit, black heels, and my mother's pearl earrings.
Sarah walked beside me.
Margaret Ellis and Daniel Price followed.
A security guard stepped into our path.
"Mrs. Prescott, I'm sorry, but Mr. Prescott left instructions—"
Daniel handed him a letter.
"We're here for the special board meeting. Our attendance has been formally arranged."
The guard read it.
Then looked at Margaret.
His expression changed.
"Of course, Ms. Ellis."
He stepped aside.
As we approached the elevators, employees began staring.
Some recognized me.
Others recognized Margaret.
Most looked confused.
I heard someone whisper, "Isn't that Aaron's wife?"
Another voice answered, "Why is she with Northstar?"
I kept walking.
On the twenty-seventh floor, the executive conference room was already crowded.
Aaron sat at the head of the table.
Jasmine stood beside him.
Nathan Prescott lounged near the windows.
Victor Lang sat quietly with a leather portfolio in front of him.
Several directors occupied the remaining seats.
Aaron looked up.
When he saw me, his expression turned murderous.
"What the hell is she doing here?"
Daniel stepped forward.
"Claire Reed is attending in her capacity as the controlling voting shareholder and chair of the Reed Family Trust, which controls Northstar Harbor Capital."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Aaron stared at Daniel.
Then he laughed.
"That's not funny."
Margaret placed a folder on the table.
"No one is joking, Aaron."
He looked at me.
"Claire?"
I said nothing.
Jasmine frowned.
"What is he talking about?"
Daniel addressed the board.
"Northstar Harbor Capital's managed investment vehicle owns forty-one percent of Prescott Global's voting common shares and holds substantial secured debt. Ms. Reed controls the voting interest in Northstar's management company through the Reed Family Trust, subject to the governing agreements and applicable fiduciary obligations."
Aaron's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Nathan straightened.
Victor, however, barely reacted.
That told me something.
He had already known.
Aaron turned toward me.
"You own Northstar?"
"Through my family's trust, I control its voting shares."
"Since when?"
"Before we met."
He stared.
I could almost see him searching through eleven years of memories.
The dinners where he'd bragged about Northstar's investment.
The arguments where he'd told me I didn't understand business.
The countless times he'd dismissed my suggestions.
"You never told me," he whispered.
"You never asked."
His face reddened.
"That's ridiculous. You're my wife!"
I looked at him.
"Apparently not for much longer."
One director coughed.
Patricia Moore stood.
"Can we begin?"
Aaron slammed his palm onto the table.
"No! I want to know what she's doing here!"
Margaret answered.
"Northstar requested this meeting to address urgent financial and governance concerns."
"This is my company!"
Patricia's voice hardened.
"Prescott Global has shareholders, Aaron. It isn't your personal property."
For a moment, he looked genuinely stunned.
Then he turned toward Victor.
"Say something."
Victor adjusted his cuffs.
"I suggest we allow the meeting to proceed."
Aaron stared at him.
It was the first visible crack in their relationship.
Patricia formally called the meeting to order.
Daniel presented Northstar's concerns.
The forty-eight-million-dollar payment.
The lack of documented board authorization.
The unusual consulting agreement.
The use of Martin Keller's credentials.
The proposed restructuring and executive compensation packages.
The forged power of attorney was identified as a disputed document under separate legal review.
Nobody declared Aaron guilty.
Nobody needed to.
The documents raised questions that required immediate answers.
Patricia turned to Aaron.
"Did you authorize the payment to Cole Strategic Ventures?"
He leaned back.
"It was a legitimate strategic expense."
"Where is the independent valuation of the services?"
"Victor handled the arrangement."
All eyes turned toward Victor.
Victor smiled.
"Our advisory team identified restructuring opportunities."
Patricia didn't smile back.
"Was Cole Strategic Ventures responsible for delivering those services?"
"Under the contract, yes."
"What services have been delivered?"
Victor opened his portfolio.
"We can provide a detailed accounting."
"When?"
"Within a reasonable period."
Patricia leaned forward.
"Forty-eight million dollars has already left the company. We need documentation now."
Aaron interrupted.
"This is a witch hunt."
I spoke for the first time.
"Then the records should settle it."
He turned toward me.
"Stay out of this."
I held his gaze.
"I'm here because the company has obligations to its employees, shareholders, and creditors. Those obligations don't disappear because we're getting divorced."
Jasmine crossed her arms.
"Claire, you're making this personal."
I looked at her.
"Jasmine, is Cole Strategic Ventures your company?"
She hesitated.
"Yes."
"Did you disclose your relationship with Aaron to the audit committee before receiving the contract?"
Her expression hardened.
"My personal life is irrelevant."
Patricia answered.
"Not necessarily. Related-party disclosures exist for a reason."
Jasmine looked at Aaron.
He said nothing.
Nathan suddenly stood.
"This whole meeting is a setup. Claire is obviously using her family money to destroy Aaron."
Margaret's expression remained calm.
"Mr. Prescott, please sit down."
Nathan laughed.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?"
"The chief executive of your company's largest voting shareholder."
Nathan sat.
A few directors exchanged glances.
I didn't enjoy it.
I didn't feel triumphant.
Watching Aaron humiliated wasn't nearly as satisfying as I'd imagined.
Because every document on the table represented a possible threat to people who had done nothing wrong.
Patricia moved to the next agenda item.
"Given the unresolved financial questions, I propose an independent investigation overseen by the audit committee."
Aaron objected.
"I won't allow it."
A director named Harold Finch spoke.
"The board has a duty to investigate credible concerns. You don't have a personal veto."
Aaron looked around.
One by one, directors nodded.
The motion passed.
Next came the question of temporary executive authority.
Patricia proposed placing Aaron on administrative leave while the investigation proceeded, with an independent interim executive appointed to maintain operations.
Aaron stood so quickly his chair rolled backward.
"You can't do this!"
Patricia remained seated.
"The board can consider it under the company's governing documents."
"This is my life's work!"
I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
Because once, it had been our life's work.
I remembered Aaron at thirty, sitting on the floor of our tiny apartment, surrounded by invoices.
He used to make coffee at midnight and tell me that someday he'd build a company big enough to provide good jobs for hundreds of people.
Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten those people.
Or perhaps he'd simply decided they mattered less than his own success.
The directors discussed the proposal.
Aaron's counsel asked for a short recess.
The board agreed.
During the break, Aaron followed me into the corridor.
"Claire."
I stopped.
He came closer.
"How could you do this to me?"
I looked at him.
"Which part?"
"Keeping Northstar a secret."
"My inheritance was always separate. You knew I had investments."
"Not this!"
"You made it clear you weren't interested in discussing them."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Victor told me Northstar was controlled by some old family trust. I never thought—"
"That your wife might be involved?"
He looked away.
I waited.
Then he whispered, "I thought you were just living off what your mother left you."
I felt something inside me finally break free.
"You used to tell me I didn't contribute anything."
"Claire—"
"You let your friends call me a trophy wife. You joked that I couldn't balance a checkbook."
"I was joking."
"No. You were making sure everyone believed I was smaller than you."
He stepped closer.
"I made mistakes. But you can't let them take the company."
"Then answer the board's questions."
He looked desperate.
"Victor says the company will collapse if Northstar enforces the loan agreements."
"Victor stands to benefit from a default."
Aaron went still.
"What?"
I watched his face.
"You didn't know?"
He shook his head.
"That's impossible."
"Ask him about the debt his companies have been buying."
Aaron stared through the glass conference-room wall.
Victor was speaking quietly to Nathan.
For the first time, my husband looked at his business partner with suspicion.
Then he turned back to me.
"Claire, I need you to help me."
Eleven years of marriage.
Six months of betrayal.
And only now was he asking for my help.
I said, "Tell the truth, Aaron."
His eyes filled with panic.
"You don't understand."
"Then explain."
He lowered his voice.
"Victor has something on me."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
Aaron looked toward the conference room again.
Then he whispered, "If I tell the board what really happened, I could go to prison."
Before I could respond, the conference-room door opened.
Patricia appeared.
"We're ready to resume."
Aaron straightened.
His expression changed.
The frightened husband disappeared.
The CEO returned.
He walked into the room without another word.
I followed.
The board voted to place Aaron on administrative leave, subject to the relevant employment arrangements and further review.
The resolution passed.
Aaron stood silently.
Jasmine grabbed his arm.
Nathan swore.
Victor simply closed his portfolio.
Then Patricia announced that the audit committee had received an urgent communication from the company's bank.
She looked directly at Aaron.
"Apparently, someone submitted a request this morning to transfer another seventy-five million dollars."
The room went silent.
Patricia lifted the document.
"The request includes your electronic authorization."
Aaron shook his head.
"No."
She looked at him.
"Are you denying it?"
His voice was barely audible.
"Yes."
Patricia turned the page.
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"Then why does the payment instruction identify the recipient as an investment vehicle controlled by Victor Lang?"
Victor stopped smiling.
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