Chapter 13 - PHASE THREE
Richard tried to leave the country.
That made Phase Three much more interesting.
He booked a flight from Newark to Zurich under his own name, which was either arrogance or panic.
His attorneys persuaded him not to board after Claire sent notice that litigation hold obligations were active.
He returned to Manhattan.
This time, he negotiated.
Not immunity.
Not promises we could not give.
Cooperation in exchange for civil settlement discussions.
Richard gave us Phase Three.
It was the largest plan of all.
Camden and Richard wanted to move beyond aviation.
After Pierce Aero and Meridian Aviation Services, they planned to acquire distressed assets from Alden Meridian through entities secretly controlled by Hawthorne Ridge.
Hotels.
Warehouse properties.
A logistics subsidiary.
Not enough to seize the entire family empire.
Enough to carve out a multibillion-dollar platform under Pierce control.
“How?” I asked.
Richard looked embarrassed.
“Debt pressure.”
They planned to exploit several upcoming refinancing events.
Create pessimistic forecasts.
Encourage selected banks to tighten terms.
Then offer “solutions” through friendly capital.
A slow takeover.
Not a robbery.
A corporate parasite.
“Who else knew?”
Richard named two outside bankers.
A consultant.
Camden.
Arthur Givens knew only one piece.
Evelyn knew broad goals.
Lila knew almost nothing.
“Why?” I asked Richard.
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Why do this?”
He laughed bitterly.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
“We were tired of being Mr. Alden’s charity case.”
I stared at him.
“My father gave your family opportunities.”
“Exactly.”
“He invested in Camden.”
“He controlled him.”
“No.”
Richard’s voice sharpened.
“You grew up never wondering whether a room belonged to you. We did.”
There it was.
Resentment turned into ideology.
My father’s generosity had humiliated them because gratitude felt like inferiority.
So they convinced themselves theft was independence.
Richard continued:
“Camden wanted one thing with his own name on it.”
I thought of Pierce Aero.
My company.
Named Pierce because I named it after him.
For our fifth anniversary.
He already had the one thing he claimed he wanted.
A company carrying his name.
But apparently, a gift did not count.
He needed ownership.
Control.
Proof.
The tragedy was almost obvious.
Camden wanted so badly to stop feeling like he lived inside my family’s shadow that he destroyed the one person who had tried to share the light.
Richard turned over emails, bank contacts, and internal plans.
Phase Three died in that room.
Banks received corrected information.
Boards were notified.
Auditors expanded reviews.
Outside counsel initiated formal steps.
Not dramatic.
Effective.
Camden’s world shrank quickly.
Northstar lenders began foreclosure actions.
His business-development employment was terminated for cause after the internal investigation documented policy breaches.
Divorce proceedings moved forward.
Richard resigned from every Alden-affiliated role.
Evelyn left the New Canaan property.
Lila moved out of Manhattan.
The structures Camden built began collapsing faster than he could negotiate.
Then he asked to see me one final time before the first major divorce hearing.
I agreed.
Not because he deserved closure.
Because I wanted mine.
We met in a neutral conference room.
Camden looked at me for a long time.
Then said:
“Was there ever a version of this where you forgave me?”
I thought carefully.
“The affair?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe.”
He looked surprised.
“The money?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because infidelity means you betrayed our marriage.”
I looked directly at him.
“What you did financially means you spent years trying to turn my trust into a weakness.”
Silence.
He nodded slowly.
Then said:
“I hated depending on you.”
“I know.”
“I hated people thinking I had what I had because of you.”
“You did have some of it because of me.”
His face tightened.
“Exactly.”
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Then he said:
“I loved you.”
“I know.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Yes.”
He looked relieved.
I continued:
“And you loved being more powerful than me even more.”
The relief disappeared.
He had no answer.
Then Camden reached into his coat.
For one second, Nora shifted near the door.
He pulled out something small.
My anniversary scarf.
No.
Not the scarf.
A photograph.
Paris.
Our fifth anniversary.
Me laughing beside the Seine.
Camden behind me.
Happy.
Maybe truly.
He placed it on the table.
“I keep trying to figure out where I became this person.”
I looked at the photograph.
“You didn’t become him all at once.”
He looked at me.
“That’s the problem.”
Small lies.
Small thefts.
Small resentments.
Then bigger ones.
I stood.
At the door, Camden said:
“Vivian.”
I turned.
He looked broken.
“I am sorry.”
I believed him.
That did not require me to return.
“I know.”
Then I left.
Three hours later, Nora called.
Camden’s attorneys had discovered one final financial problem.
Northstar had pledged shares it did not own as collateral.
Shares in Pierce Aero.
My shares.
May you like
The same forged signature appeared again.
This time, the lender had already filed documents.
