Chapter 3 - THEY HAD PLANNED MY BREAKDOWN BEFORE WE LANDED
The laboratory results came back that evening.
A sedative was present in my system.
Not enough to prove who gave it to me.
Enough to explain why I slept through packing, doors opening, luggage moving, and my child being carried out of the room.
I sat on the bed staring at Julian’s note.
Figure it out yourself.
He knew I would wake without a passport.
Without a phone.
Without Maya.
He wanted me frightened.
Maybe frantic.
Maybe angry enough to behave exactly like the “unstable” woman described in Nolan Pierce’s report.
That thought scared me more than the missing money request.
“They wanted a reaction,” I told Serena.
“Yes.”
“A public one.”
“Possibly.”
“If I screamed in the lobby…”
“It might have supported their story.”
I felt sick.
Then the airline liaison sent information.
Julian, Evelyn, and Maya were already airborne.
Their itinerary did not end in Seattle.
They were flying to Los Angeles.
Then Julian had booked a rental car.
Destination entered in the reservation:
MONTEREY COUNTY.
Evelyn owned a house near Carmel.
They weren’t going home.
“Why California?” I asked.
My attorney, Rebecca Sloan, joined the call.
“Because Nolan Pierce practices there.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
Rebecca paused.
“Because Julian filed something yesterday.”
“What?”
“A petition prepared in California requesting temporary authority over Maya’s financial interests if you became unavailable.”
I stood.
“Maya doesn’t have financial interests.”
Rebecca was quiet.
That was when I remembered my father’s trust.
Maya was contingent beneficiary.
If I died, her inheritance would be substantial.
But I wasn’t dead.
“I’m alive.”
“I know.”
“Then why would he need authority over anything?”
“He claims you intended to restructure the trust for Maya’s benefit.”
“I didn’t.”
“There’s a signed letter saying you did.”
Another forgery.
Rebecca continued:
“The request references your thirty-fifth birthday.”
That was four days away.
I had almost forgotten.
“What does my birthday have to do with it?”
Serena answered.
“Everything.”
My father’s estate plan had one final restriction I rarely thought about.
Until thirty-five, an independent trustee controlled Carter Meridian Holdings.
On my thirty-fifth birthday, voting control transferred to me personally.
Forty-two million dollars in family assets.
Not cash.
Companies.
Property.
Investments.
Control.
Julian had spent years pretending he found my family structures tedious.
Apparently he had studied them very carefully.
Rebecca said:
“If you were declared temporarily incapacitated before the transfer date, the control transition could be delayed.”
“And Julian?”
“He is trying to position himself as the person who manages your interests during that delay.”
I stared toward the dark Bangkok skyline.
This wasn’t a kidnapping improvised after an argument.
May you like
They had built the entire Thailand trip around one date.
My birthday.
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