Chapter 4 - NINE O’CLOCK
At 8:57 the next morning, Harrington Aeronautics had two CEOs.
At least on paper.
Nate entered the company’s forty-second-floor boardroom with Sophie beside him, Miriam behind him, and me several steps back wondering how a hotel maid had somehow ended up inside a corporate war.
I had tried to go home.
Nate refused.
Not because he wanted me as an employee.
Because Mateo’s files might contain evidence connected to whoever had compromised the company.
“You’re a witness,” Miriam explained. “And until we know who helped Vanessa, it may not be safe for you to be alone.”
Safe.
The word bothered me.
Mateo had been dead eight weeks.
For the first time, I wondered whether his accident had truly been one.
At exactly nine, twelve board members took their seats.
Three wouldn’t look at Nate.
That told Miriam everything.
A gray-haired director named Preston Vale cleared his throat.
“Nathaniel, before we begin—”
“You can call me Nate.”
Preston stiffened.
“You’ve always preferred Nathaniel in formal meetings.”
“I also used to trust everyone at this table. We’re apparently trying new things.”
Sophie hid a smile.
Preston looked at Miriam.
“We received medical documentation this morning indicating Mr. Harrington may lack the capacity to—”
“My client is sitting three feet from you,” Miriam interrupted. “Address him.”
The door opened.
Every head turned.
Charles Sterling entered.
No Vanessa.
Only Charles, two attorneys, and Dr. Martin Weiss.
Nate recognized the physician immediately.
Dr. Weiss had supervised part of his rehabilitation after the helicopter crash.
More importantly, his signature appeared on the incapacity declaration.
Nate’s expression became stone.
“Martin.”
Dr. Weiss looked miserable.
“Nate.”
Charles took a seat.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Nate almost laughed.
“It’s my company.”
“That is precisely what we’re here to determine.”
Charles placed a folder on the table.
He claimed Nate’s recent behavior demonstrated instability.
Impulsive decisions.
Paranoia.
Aggression.
He cited the gala.
According to Charles, Nate had suffered an “emotional episode” in which he publicly humiliated his fiancée based on unverified material supplied by a temporary employee.
Me.
Miriam slid a police evidence receipt across the table.
“The video has already been authenticated preliminarily.”
Charles barely glanced at it.
“That proves nothing about Mr. Harrington’s current cognitive capacity.”
Nate leaned forward.
“Then ask me.”
Charles smiled.
“You don’t understand how these proceedings work.”
“I founded this company in a rented garage when I was twenty-four. Ask me any operational question you want.”
Preston intervened.
“This isn’t a quiz.”
“No,” Nate said. “It’s a coup.”
Silence.
Then Miriam dropped the real problem onto the table.
“The incapacity declaration is fraudulent.”
Dr. Weiss looked up sharply.
Charles did not.
Miriam continued.
“Nate underwent an independent neurological evaluation at 6:15 this morning.”
She distributed copies.
“No cognitive impairment. No diminished decision-making capacity. No basis for guardianship or suspension of corporate authority.”
Preston read the report.
Another director whispered, “My God.”
Nate looked at Weiss.
“Why did you sign it?”
The doctor’s hands trembled.
“I didn’t.”
Charles finally reacted.
“What?”
Weiss turned toward him.
“That is not my signature.”
For the first time, Charles Sterling looked surprised.
Weiss produced his phone.
“I was in Switzerland when that document was supposedly witnessed.”
Miriam smiled without warmth.
“We have flight records.”
One piece of the scheme collapsed.
Then another.
The two named witnesses didn’t exist.
Their identification numbers belonged to dead people.
The notary seal had been copied from a retired notary.
Preston pushed away from the table.
“I was told this was legitimate.”
“By whom?” Nate asked.
Preston didn’t answer.
“By whom?”
Preston looked toward Charles.
That was enough.
Charles stood.
“This meeting is over.”
“No,” Nate said.
“It is for me.”
“You leave this room and I forward Mateo Cruz’s complete archive to federal investigators before you reach the elevator.”
Charles stopped.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
Complete archive?
I looked at Nate.
He glanced at me apologetically.
“Miriam found additional encrypted folders on the drive.”
I hadn’t known.
Neither had Vanessa.
Apparently Mateo had collected more than security footage.
Charles slowly returned to his chair.
Miriam opened the first folder.
Invoices.
Payments.
Shell companies.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Sterling Strategic Holdings.
Another belonged to a Harrington subsidiary.
Over eighteen months, more than sixty million dollars had been moved through contracts for services that appeared never to have been performed.
Nate stared at the transactions.
“These are thefts.”
“Allegedly,” Miriam said.
Sophie leaned toward her brother.
“That’s why Vanessa needed your shares.”
Control the board.
Stop an audit.
Make Nate legally powerless.
Possibly institutionalize him.
It was bigger than an abusive engagement.
It was corporate fraud.
Nate turned to Charles.
“You used her.”
Charles’s answer was chilling.
“My daughter is an adult.”
“You sent her into my life.”
“Nathaniel, spare me the wounded lover routine. Vanessa liked you long before your accident.”
“Liked my company.”
“She would have married you either way.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”
Charles leaned back.
“You think people like us marry for fairy tales?”
Nate stared at him.
“No. But most of us try not to throw our spouses down staircases.”
Several board members looked away.
Charles’s face tightened.
“You cannot prove I knew about that.”
Maybe not.
But Mateo could.
Miriam opened another file.
An email.
Sent two days after Nate’s fall.
FROM: C. STERLING
TO: V. STERLING
SUBJECT: CLEANUP
The message contained only seven words.
MAKE SURE THE TECHNICIAN DELETES EVERYTHING.
My knees almost gave out.
The technician.
Mateo.
Charles looked at the screen.
Then he looked at me.
Something changed in his face.
Not guilt.
Recognition.
“You’re his sister.”
I felt cold.
“You knew him.”
Charles said nothing.
“Did you know my brother?”
Miriam touched my arm.
“Elena.”
But I needed the answer.
Charles looked away.
That was answer enough.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I remembered Mateo.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A distorted voice spoke.
“You should have left the drive buried.”
My skin prickled.
“Who is this?”
“You want to know what happened to your brother?”
Everyone at the table watched me.
I could barely breathe.
“Yes.”
The voice whispered five words.
“Ask Nate who flew helicopter.”
Then the line went dead.
I lowered the phone.
Nate saw my expression.
“What happened?”
I looked at him.
“Who was flying the helicopter when you crashed?”
The boardroom went silent again.
Nate’s face changed.
“Oliver.”
His best friend.
The same man Vanessa had convinced him to cut out of his life.
Sophie slowly stood.
“Nate.”
“What?”
“Oliver called me three months ago.”
Nate stared at her.
May you like
“What did he want?”
“He said the crash wasn’t an accident.”
