Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO PROTECT OUR MONEY
Marcus Bell had attended my father's funeral.
He had helped me understand Bellwether's first financial statements.
When Derek and I got engaged, Marcus toasted us at the celebration dinner.
I had trusted him almost as much as Derek.
Now his name appeared in the ownership structure of a company created to take control of my inheritance.
“How long has Marcus been involved?” I asked.
Olivia opened another document.
“Ashford became an investor in Crescent Bay four months ago. We don't yet know when Marcus began discussing the arrangement.”
Nolan called Rachel immediately.
Within an hour, Bellwether's independent directors had been notified of the audit findings and the potential conflicts involving the CEO and CFO.
We did not accuse everyone publicly.
We preserved the records.
Restricted access where authorized.
And prepared for the emergency board meeting.
Then Marcus called me.
I answered.
“Emily, I hear there's some confusion about Northlake's credit facility.”
“Is there?”
“Derek's been working hard on a refinancing package.”
“Has he?”
A pause.
“I'm sure he mentioned it.”
“Marcus, why are you invested in Crescent Bay Holdings?”
The line went completely silent.
Then he said, “Where did you hear that?”
I looked at Nolan.
“From the ownership records.”
Marcus exhaled.
“Emily, you don't understand the full picture.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can't discuss confidential transactions over the phone.”
“They're confidential from me, a thirty-six-percent shareholder?”
Another silence.
Then he said something I would remember for years.
“You were never supposed to be involved in the financing side.”
I almost laughed.
“Who decided that?”
“Derek.”
Of course.
The same man who told me I worried too much about numbers and should focus on creating beautiful guest experiences.
The same man who praised my creativity in public while quietly ensuring I never saw the documents that could destroy what I had built.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Listen to me. If you want Bellwether to survive, you'll let Derek finish the transaction.”
“Why?”
“Because the company needs the money.”
“According to whom?”
“Me.”
I glanced at Nolan.
He raised one eyebrow.
I smiled without warmth.
“Marcus, Northlake's controlling investor is sitting beside me.”
A pause.
Then another.
“Who?”
“Nolan.”
The sound Marcus made was almost a gasp.
My brother leaned toward the phone.
“Hello, Marcus.”
Marcus didn't answer.
Nolan continued.
“I've reviewed your refinancing proposal. I've also seen the undisclosed consulting payments and your interest in Crescent Bay.”
“I can explain.”
“Good. You'll have an opportunity to explain to independent counsel and the board.”
Nolan ended the call.
For the first time, I understood what my brother meant at the airport.
He wasn't going to steal Derek's property or invent consequences.
He was going to stop protecting men who had been using our money, our trust, and our silence to enrich themselves.
The rest would follow.
At 4:17 p.m., Olivia received confirmation that the corporate travel account had been suspended.
Derek and Clara had been required to provide another payment method at their resort.
At 4:39, Derek's administrative access to the company's discretionary spending system was restricted pending board review.
At 5:02, Rachel confirmed that the disputed personal guarantee had been flagged and the lender would not rely on it without valid authorization.
By 5:45, the proposed restructuring was on hold.
Then my phone rang.
Derek.
Again.
This time I answered.
“What the hell have you done?” he demanded.
I sat down.
“Hello to you too.”
“Marcus says you've involved Nolan in matters you don't understand.”
“I'm a founder of Bellwether, Derek.”
“You handle the brand. I handle the business.”
“That arrangement seems to have worked very well for you.”
His breathing changed.
“Emily, stop being childish. I need you to sign those papers.”
“No.”
Silence.
“What?”
“No.”
“You don't understand what's at stake.”
“Then explain why Bellwether paid Whitfield Strategic Solutions $2.74 million.”
The silence that followed was the first honest thing Derek had given me all weekend.
Then I heard Clara in the background.
“Derek? What's happening?”
I closed my eyes.
He tried to cover the phone.
Too late.
“Who is that?” I asked.
Derek didn't answer.
I let the silence stretch.
Then Clara whispered something I couldn't make out.
Derek suddenly sounded desperate.
“Emily, I can explain everything.”
“I know.”
I looked at the photograph from the airport.
The two of them kissing beneath the departure board.
“Tomorrow, you'll have to.”
I ended the call.
Then Olivia entered, holding one final document.
“The independent directors just received an anonymous email.”
“What does it say?”
She placed the message in front of me.
It contained a photograph of Derek and Clara leaving a restaurant together six months earlier.
And a short note.
If you think the affair is the worst thing Derek Lawson has done, ask what happened to the money from the canceled hotel project in Aspen.
I stared at Nolan.
Neither of us knew what the note meant.
Then Olivia opened Bellwether's archived project files.
The Aspen acquisition had been abandoned eight months earlier.
According to the records, the company lost $1.8 million in nonrefundable deposits.
But the original seller's account showed something different.
The deposits had been refunded.
Every dollar.
May you like
The money had returned to an account Marcus controlled.
And then disappeared.
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