Chapter 6 - THE SECRETARY CHANGES SIDES
At 1:14 a.m., Jasmine arrived at my townhouse wearing sweatpants, a baseball cap, and enough fear to power Manhattan.
She saw Lucas at the doorway.
“You.”
He raised a hand.
“Hi.”
“You lied to me.”
“So did practically everyone involved.”
“Not helping,” I said.
We gathered in the library.
Naomi joined by secure video.
Rachel arrived in person carrying two laptops and a bag of takeout nobody touched.
Jasmine sat opposite me.
“You said Crown Ridge belongs to me legally.”
“Yes.”
“And Aaron put money in it.”
“Yes.”
“So what do you want?”
“Tomorrow morning, Aaron intends Crown Ridge to purchase newly issued Prescott shares.”
Her face went blank.
“He never told me.”
“I’m beginning to suspect disclosure is not Aaron’s greatest skill.”
“How much?”
“Potentially enough to dilute Halcyon below its protective threshold.”
“And because Crown Ridge is mine…”
“You control whether it participates.”
Jasmine stared at the floor.
“What happens if I refuse?”
“He needs another buyer.”
“Can he find one?”
“Not before eight, probably.”
Naomi interrupted.
“But he may claim Ms. Cole already authorized the purchase.”
Jasmine looked up.
“I didn’t.”
“Did you sign blank board consents?”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
Naomi sighed.
“When?”
“Aaron gave me a stack last month.”
“Did you read them?”
“No.”
I almost said something cruel.
Then stopped.
I had signed documents Aaron placed in front of me too.
Trust made fools efficient.
Rachel pulled up Crown Ridge’s incorporation records.
“We can revoke prior authorizations tonight.”
Naomi nodded.
“And issue a written notice to Prescott that Crown Ridge refuses participation.”
Jasmine swallowed.
“If I do that, Aaron will destroy me.”
I looked at her.
“Maybe.”
“You’re not exactly comforting.”
“I’m not going to lie to you to get what I want.”
That seemed to matter.
“What happens to me legally?”
“You cooperate fully, retain independent counsel, return any money that isn’t legitimately yours, and tell the truth.”
“Will I go to prison?”
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes filled.
“But if Aaron forged or manipulated documents, cooperation matters.”
Lucas leaned against the fireplace.
“Choose quickly. Aaron probably discovers you’re talking to Alyssa by dawn.”
Jasmine glared at him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No. I have an unfortunate face.”
At 2:03 a.m., Jasmine signed the revocation.
At 2:18, Crown Ridge’s bank received instructions freezing outgoing investments above fifty thousand dollars pending internal review.
At 2:31, Prescott’s corporate secretary acknowledged receipt.
At 2:44, Aaron called Jasmine.
She looked at the screen.
Nobody spoke.
“Answer,” I said.
She did.
“Aaron?”
His voice carried through the speaker.
“What did you do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t play stupid.”
Jasmine flinched.
I wrote on a notepad:
LET HIM TALK.
She nodded.
“Aaron, I’m confused.”
“You revoked Crown Ridge’s authorization.”
“I talked to a lawyer.”
“Whose lawyer?”
“My own.”
“You had no right.”
Jasmine stared at me.
Then something changed in her face.
Maybe she finally heard how ridiculous that sentence was.
“It’s my company.”
Aaron went quiet.
“Jasmine.”
“No. You said it was mine.”
“It is.”
“Then I have every right.”
His voice softened.
“You’re scared.”
“Yes.”
“Alyssa is manipulating you.”
Jasmine looked at me.
“She showed me the transfers.”
Silence.
“She told you about those?”
“She didn’t have to. They’re public corporate records once you know where to look.”
“Listen carefully. Alyssa doesn’t care what happens to you.”
I almost admired the accuracy.
I didn’t care about Jasmine yet.
But I cared about fairness.
Sometimes that was enough.
Aaron continued.
“She’ll use you and throw you to prosecutors.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll protect you.”
“How?”
“You know how.”
“No, Aaron. I don’t.”
He paused.
“You and I have a future.”
Jasmine’s face crumpled.
Seven months of an affair apparently still had power.
Then she asked, “Who is E?”
Absolute silence.
I looked at her.
That had not been planned.
“Who told you about E?” he asked.
“I saw the messages.”
“You went through my phone?”
“You were sleeping with me while planning things with someone else.”
“You’re behaving irrationally.”
Jasmine laughed.
A hard, broken laugh.
“That’s what you told me about your wife.”
I felt that.
So did she.
Women rarely realize how unoriginal manipulative men are until they compare notes.
“Aaron, were you ever leaving her?”
He sighed.
Not cruelly.
Worse.
Impatiently.
“Jasmine, we don’t have time for this.”
Her tears spilled.
That answer ended the affair more effectively than any confession.
She disconnected.
No one spoke.
Finally she wiped her cheeks.
“I hate him.”
Lucas gave her a napkin.
“Get in line.”
At 3:15, our forensic team opened his flash drive on an isolated system.
The files were authentic.
Project Crosswind.
Internal models.
Debt schedules.
Draft agreements.
One folder was named EXIT.
Inside was Aaron’s actual plan.
After Meridian acquired selected Prescott assets, an investment entity would buy the remaining intellectual property.
That entity:
EP Strategic Holdings.
Evelyn Prescott.
My mother-in-law was not helping her son protect the family company.
She was helping him strip it.
Another document outlined planned severance.
Aaron: $42 million.
Evelyn: $18 million advisory payment.
Lucas: $25 million equity settlement.
Jasmine: $3 million retention agreement.
And me?
My name appeared under “legacy liabilities.”
Projected exposure:
$190–240 million.
Lucas stared at his allocation.
“I never saw this.”
“You expected money,” I said.
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
“I thought it was payment for my Halcyon shares.”
“Twenty-five million for twelve percent of a two-billion-dollar company?”
He winced.
“I said I’ve been stupid.”
Rachel opened another file.
“Alyssa.”
“What?”
“This is a communications plan.”
She displayed it.
The strategy was scheduled to begin immediately after the transaction.
Leaks to financial media.
Anonymous claims that I had used Halcyon guarantees to conceal Prescott debts.
Stories about “an heiress interfering in a company she didn’t understand.”
Photos of me at charity galas.
Old quotes.
A narrative.
I understood immediately.
This was not just financial warfare.
It was reputation warfare.
On social media, facts came second.
By the time lawyers corrected a lie, millions of people could already believe it.
Jasmine whispered, “Aaron had me preparing some of these biographies.”
“For what?”
“He said it was crisis planning.”
“Whose crisis?”
“He never said.”
I looked at my photograph in the draft article.
The caption:
ALYSSA VALE PRESCOTT, THE HEIRESS BEHIND AEROSPACE’S BIGGEST ACCOUNTING SCANDAL?
I felt something inside me become very calm.
For eight years, I had protected Aaron’s public image.
He had prepared to destroy mine.
At 6:35 a.m., we drove to Prescott headquarters.
The shareholder meeting was scheduled virtually and in person.
Aaron appeared on screen from Chicago at exactly eight.
Evelyn sat beside him.
Lucas remained outside the camera frame.
Jasmine sat beside me.
Aaron saw her.
His expression hardened.
“Ms. Cole is not authorized to attend.”
I spoke.
“She is a Prescott shareholder representative through Crown Ridge.”
“Crown Ridge has no shares.”
“Correct.”
One board member coughed to hide a laugh.
Aaron continued.
“Then we’ll proceed with the issuance resolution.”
The corporate secretary cleared his throat.
“Mr. Prescott, the proposed subscriber has formally withdrawn.”
Aaron already knew.
He pretended not to.
“Then substitute EP Strategic.”
Evelyn stiffened.
That had not been planned.
Naomi spoke.
“EP Strategic is an undisclosed related party controlled by Director Evelyn Prescott.”
All eyes turned toward Evelyn.
“I have no idea what she’s talking about.”
Naomi shared the incorporation certificate on screen.
Evelyn’s face changed.
Aaron interrupted.
“This is harassment.”
I leaned toward the microphone.
“No. This is documentation.”
The vote began.
Aaron needed six.
He received four.
Then five.
The final undecided shareholder was a retired engineer named Harold Whitcomb, who had known Aaron’s father.
He adjusted his glasses.
“Aaron, before I vote, I have one question.”
“What?”
“Are you selling this company?”
Aaron went still.
“No.”
I watched Evelyn.
She looked toward him.
Harold continued.
“Because I received documents last night suggesting Meridian intends to purchase our propulsion division.”
Aaron stared at me.
I had not sent them.
Neither had Naomi.
Lucas stepped into view behind him.
Aaron turned.
The betrayal registered instantly.
“You.”
Lucas walked toward the conference camera.
“I sent them.”
Aaron stood.
“You son of a—”
The audio clipped as people in Chicago tried to calm him.
Lucas faced the camera.
“I helped create Project Crosswind. I also provided the board with the complete transaction plan.”
Evelyn shouted, “You ungrateful little thief!”
Lucas almost smiled.
“That criticism from you is ambitious.”
Harold voted no.
The issuance failed.
For the first time, Aaron looked genuinely cornered.
Then he smiled.
That frightened me more than his anger.
“Congratulations, Alyssa.”
“On what?”
“You won this vote.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“It always was.”
He leaned toward the camera.
“Check the market.”
Prescott Aerospace was privately held.
There was no stock price to check.
Then Rachel’s phone exploded with notifications.
So did mine.
News alerts.
A financial website had just published an exclusive report.
HALCYON AVIATION CHAIRWOMAN LINKED TO $200 MILLION PRESCOTT ACCOUNTING HOLE.
The story contained documents.
My signatures.
Bank transfers.
Internal emails.
Most were real.
Some were not.
Below the headline was a photograph of me leaving the jet the day before.
Caption:
BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS ABANDONS HUSBAND’S AIRCRAFT HOURS BEFORE FINANCIAL CRISIS.
May you like
Aaron looked directly into the camera.
“Your turn.”
