Chapter 6 - MONDAY MORNINGBy Monday at eight forty-five, reporters surrounded Halston Development headquarters.
Somehow the canceled wedding had transformed into a financial scandal overnight.
Online headlines called me everything from betrayed billionaire to mentally unstable executive.
One gossip site claimed Vanessa abandoned me at the altar because I had become violent.
Another reported that I had been hospitalized for dementia.
Neither was true.
Truth rarely moved as quickly as lies.
I arrived through the underground garage with Rachel, Elena, Stephen, and two security officers.
“Last chance to turn around,” Rachel said.
“I’ve spent thirty-one years walking into this building.”
“Today isn’t a normal Monday.”
“It never is when lawyers arrive before breakfast.”
She almost smiled.
The elevator stopped on the twenty-third floor.
My executive assistant hugged me without asking.
Then she immediately apologized.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“You scared us.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“How much of the news is true?”
“Almost none.”
“That’s comforting.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
At exactly nine, I entered the boardroom.
Twelve directors sat around a walnut table.
Jonathan Reese sat near the far end.
Walter Briggs, our seventy-one-year-old chairman, avoided my eyes.
A seat beside him was occupied by Dr. Bell’s attorney.
Interesting.
I took my usual chair.
“Good morning.”
Nobody answered immediately.
Finally Walter cleared his throat.
“Thomas, before we discuss the waterfront authorization, we need to address concerns regarding executive capacity.”
I placed my folder on the table.
“Then address them.”
Walter looked uncomfortable.
“We received correspondence from your physician.”
“My former physician.”
“He states you’ve displayed symptoms that may impair judgment.”
“Based on four appointments.”
“He has clinical concerns.”
“He also has disappeared.”
The room changed.
Jonathan leaned forward.
“What?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
Walter frowned.
“Thomas, this isn’t interrogation.”
“You’re right. That comes later.”
Stephen touched my arm beneath the table.
A reminder.
Control.
I breathed.
Walter continued.
“A motion has been submitted requesting that you temporarily step aside as chief executive pending an independent medical evaluation.”
“Submitted by whom?”
Jonathan raised his hand.
“Me.”
There it was.
At least he had stopped hiding.
I looked around the table.
“Before anyone votes, I’d like to share a few facts.”
Jonathan interrupted.
“This meeting isn’t a courtroom.”
“No. In court, interrupting counsel this often would annoy the judge.”
Rachel sat against the wall as my personal attorney.
Jonathan glanced at her.
His expression changed.
A flash of resentment.
Good.
Let him be uncomfortable.
I passed documents around.
“During the past four months, more than two million dollars were transferred from Halston-controlled accounts through unauthorized consulting entities.”
Murmurs erupted.
Jonathan froze.
I continued.
“Several approvals used a forged version of my electronic authorization.”
Walter read the documents.
“Have police been notified?”
“Yes.”
“Suspects?”
“Multiple.”
Jonathan stood.
“This has nothing to do with Thomas’s medical fitness.”
“It has everything to do with it.”
I looked directly at him.
“Because the same people who moved that money also created documents intended to establish that I was mentally incompetent.”
Silence.
“A doctor associated with those individuals produced the letter you’re holding.”
Walter slowly lowered it.
Jonathan’s face had become pale.
I continued.
“And someone changed the beneficiary of my fifteen-million-dollar life-insurance policy.”
One director whispered, “My God.”
I looked at Jonathan.
“To an associate of the woman I was supposed to marry.”
He sat.
For the first time, he looked afraid.
“Thomas, you’re making accusations.”
“Yes.”
“Without proof.”
“Then you’ll be relieved to hear law enforcement is investigating.”
His eyes moved toward the doors.
That told me everything.
He wanted out.
I continued.
“Now, regarding my health.”
I placed another folder on the table.
“Saturday night, I underwent an independent medical evaluation at Johns Hopkins through a physician selected by counsel.”
Walter opened the report.
“No evidence of cognitive impairment.”
I nodded.
“Blood testing identified a sedative in my system inconsistent with the dosage recorded in my prescription.”
Rachel watched Jonathan.
He didn’t move.
“We don’t yet know how it entered my system.”
That was technically true.
The tea analysis had not returned.
“But I am withdrawing permission for Dr. Bell’s report to be used for any corporate determination.”
Walter leaned back.
The room had changed.
The motion to remove me suddenly looked less like responsibility and more like participation in fraud.
Jonathan sensed it too.
He stood.
“I withdraw my motion.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
“I’d like the vote.”
Stephen whispered, “Thomas.”
I ignored him.
Walter frowned.
“Why?”
“Because every director here deserves to place their position on the record.”
One by one, hands went up.
Not to remove me.
To keep me.
Ten directors opposed suspension.
One abstained.
Jonathan did not vote.
The motion failed.
I leaned back.
“Now we discuss the waterfront project.”
Jonathan stood again.
“I resign.”
Nobody moved.
Walter blinked.
“Effective when?”
“Immediately.”
He grabbed his briefcase.
I spoke calmly.
“Jonathan.”
He stopped.
“Security will need your company devices.”
“I’ll return them.”
“Now.”
His face tightened.
“You don’t own me.”
“No.”
I nodded toward security.
“But the laptop belongs to Halston.”
Two guards entered.
Jonathan stared at them.
Then slowly placed the laptop on the table.
His phone followed.
He walked out without another word.
Rachel exhaled.
“You enjoyed that too much.”
“I enjoyed it exactly enough.”
The board approved the waterfront agreement unanimously.
At eleven thirty, city representatives signed.
Blackridge’s opportunity closed.
I thought that might end it.
I was wrong.
At twelve fifteen, Detective Monroe called.
They found Dr. Bell.
Alive.
He had checked into a motel two counties away under his middle name.
And he wanted immunity.
By three o’clock, we learned why.
Dr. Bell admitted Marcus paid him $400,000 to create a documented pattern of supposed cognitive decline.
He claimed he never knew about any plan to kill me.
He did, however, know about the medication.
Vanessa had asked whether combining my prescribed sleeping medication with another sedating substance could produce memory loss.
Bell said he warned her it could be dangerous.
Then he sold her the substance anyway.
Rachel listened without blinking.
“What was she trying to do?”
Monroe answered.
“Make your father appear confused.”
“Could it have killed him?”
“Yes.”
The word hit harder than I expected.
Monroe continued.
“Bell also identified Jonathan Reese as the person who introduced him to Marcus.”
There it was.
The network collapsing.
One person at a time.
“Where’s Jonathan now?”
“Missing.”
“He resigned three hours ago.”
“We know.”
My stomach tightened.
“Vanessa?”
“Also missing.”
“Marcus?”
“His attorney claims not to know.”
Three missing people.
Rachel stood.
“Ethan.”
I was already dialing Daniel.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Rachel called Daniel’s wife.
No answer.
Her face drained of color.
We ran.
The drive to Daniel’s house normally took twenty minutes.
Security made it in eleven.
The front door stood open.
Inside, a lamp had been knocked over.
Daniel lay unconscious near the kitchen.
Alive.
Bleeding from his forehead.
Rachel screamed Ethan’s name.
No answer.
Upstairs.
Nothing.
Backyard.
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I answered.
“If you hurt him—”
“Thomas.”
Her voice was shaking.
For once, she didn’t sound controlled.
She sounded terrified.
“You need to listen.”
“Where is Ethan?”
“With me.”
Rachel grabbed my arm.
“Put him on.”
“I can’t.”
“Put my grandson on the phone.”
“I can’t because Marcus has him.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Marcus lost control.”
“What does that mean?”
“He knows everything is collapsing.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m trying to fix this.”
“You started this.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
And for the first time, I heard something I never expected from Vanessa.
Regret.
Then a man shouted in the background.
Vanessa gasped.
The line moved.
I heard tires.
Then Marcus’s voice.
“You should have voted no, Thomas.”
The call ended.
Rachel stared at me.
“My son.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“He’s coming home.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
I looked at Detective Monroe.
“But Marcus just made the first mistake desperate men always make.”
May you like
“What?”
“He stopped planning.”
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