Chapter 6 - THE TWENTY-TWO-MILLION-DOLLAR LIE
The term sheet was not signed.
That mattered.
Grant could argue it was preliminary.
A proposal.
A conversation.
Nothing more.
But one clause changed everything.
SELLER RELATIONSHIP REPRESENTATIVE:
GRANT HOLLOWAY.
Authority basis:
Historical family mandate through Charlotte Wycliffe.
I stared.
“What family mandate?”
Madison shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you get this?”
“His home office.”
That surprised me.
“You searched his office?”
Her face reddened.
“I thought he was sleeping with Eleanor.”
Fair enough.
“I found this instead.”
Arthur joined us after Madison texted her father.
Harrison Vale arrived too.
Six-foot-one.
Silver hair.
Expression carved from granite.
He had invested forty million dollars into Grant’s company three years earlier.
He did not like surprises.
“What is this?” he asked.
Madison gave him the term sheet.
He read it.
Then looked at me.
“Is Holloway authorized to represent Wycliffe?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No.”
“Could an old marriage create residual authority?”
“No.”
Arthur added:
“Not under any structure I’ve reviewed.”
Harrison’s face went cold.
Then Grant entered the corridor.
He saw all four of us.
Stopped.
There was something almost beautiful about the timing.
“What’s going on?”
Harrison held up the paper.
Grant’s face changed.
“Where did you get that?”
Madison answered:
“Your desk.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You went through my office?”
“You’ve been meeting Eleanor Price.”
“That’s business.”
“This is fraud.”
“No.”
Grant moved toward her.
Harrison stepped between them.
Grant stopped.
Smart.
He tried another tone.
“Everyone needs to calm down.”
Arthur almost smiled.
I hated that phrase.
People use it when facts are becoming inconvenient.
Grant turned toward me.
“Wycliffe Riverfront needed development.”
“Yes.”
“Margaret wanted development.”
“At one time.”
“You wanted Holloway involved.”
“Eight years ago.”
“I built the relationship.”
“You were my husband.”
“That relationship had value.”
There it was.
He still believed access granted through marriage became his property forever.
Harrison asked:
“Did you represent to Blackridge that Charlotte supported this transaction?”
Grant hesitated.
“Not directly.”
I asked:
“Did you use my letter?”
Silence.
Madison closed her eyes.
Grant said:
“The letter established historical intent.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“It established that a married woman once told her aunt she would like to discuss a possible project with her husband.”
He looked angry.
“You’re twisting this.”
“I wrote it.”
Harrison’s voice cut through.
“How far did this go?”
Grant looked at him.
“Nowhere.”
That was another mistake.
Arthur’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
“Actually, Blackridge requested title diligence two months ago.”
Grant went pale.
“How do you know that?”
Arthur looked almost bored.
“Ashbourne owns the land.”
Of course we knew who was asking about title.
The estate had declined Blackridge’s approach without realizing Grant sat behind part of it.
I suddenly understood why Eleanor Price met him.
He wanted the $22 million fee.
Maybe more.
Harrison said quietly:
“You used my forty million to stabilize Holloway while trying to earn twenty-two million selling access to your ex-wife’s estate?”
Grant snapped:
“It wasn’t her estate when I began discussions.”
I stared.
“When did you begin?”
He stopped.
Too late.
Aunt Margaret had still been alive.
That meant Grant had been approaching Blackridge before I inherited anything.
Perhaps while pretending publicly that I had disappeared from his life.
Then Madison asked the question none of us had considered.
“Did Margaret know?”
Grant did not answer.
My body went cold.
“Grant.”
He looked at me.
“Did you contact my aunt behind my back?”
May you like
Silence.
That was yes.
