Chapter 11 - The Claim With My Husband’s Name
I found Grant in the elevator lobby.
“What did you file?”
His confusion looked genuine.
“What?”
“A claim against my trust.”
“I didn’t.”
“Your name is on it.”
His face went pale.
“Show me.”
David had already forwarded the document.
Grant read it.
Then swore.
“That signature isn’t mine.”
I almost laughed.
Apparently forged signatures were becoming a family tradition.
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But you should verify it.”
That was fair.
Painfully fair.
We took the document back inside.
Simone compared the digital metadata.
The filing had originated from a law office Elaine had previously used.
But the attorney named on the submission denied authorizing it.
Someone had uploaded the claim using Grant’s old power-of-attorney credentials.
Grant stared at the screen.
“Mom still has those.”
David nodded.
“Apparently.”
The filing was designed to freeze any trust vote involving the property while ownership was disputed.
That meant my nomination could proceed, but any major real-estate decision involving the flagship would stall.
Elaine had created one more delay.
And delays were valuable.
Why?
Northline.
Jonathan called them.
They denied involvement.
Simone did not believe them.
Neither did I.
By afternoon, we knew why.
Northline’s purchase option expired in forty-eight hours.
If they could keep the property dispute alive until then, a side agreement would trigger.
David found the clause buried inside Hartcrest correspondence.
If control of the property remained contested past Friday, Hartcrest would receive a $2.5 million breakup payment from Northline.
Elaine could lose the building and still make millions.
I stared at the document.
“She gets paid for failing?”
David nodded.
“If the clause is enforceable.”
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
“It won’t be.”
“How?”
“My trust owns forty percent.”
Jonathan leaned forward.
“Yes.”
“What happens if I reject the transaction formally?”
David thought.
“It weakens the claim, but Grant’s filing—”
“Grant says he didn’t file it.”
Grant stepped forward.
“I’ll waive it.”
His attorney whispered urgently.
Grant ignored him.
“Whatever rights that filing claims, I waive them.”
David studied him.
“That may expose you.”
“I deserve exposure.”
I looked at him.
For once, he sounded like the man I thought I married.
Too late for us.
Maybe not too late for him.
Grant signed the waiver.
The freeze collapsed by evening.
Northline withdrew.
Hartcrest lost the breakup payment.
Elaine lost the building.
The next morning, the board reconvened.
My appointment as Chief Retail Officer passed.
Unanimously.
When Jonathan announced it, Tessa cried.
I nearly did too.
But happiness arrived with another surprise.
Simone entered carrying a final audit report.
“Hartcrest’s transfers go beyond the flagship.”
“How far?”
She laid the document down.
“Twenty-two stores.”
Jonathan’s expression hardened.
“Loss estimate?”
“Potentially $3.8 million.”
Grant closed his eyes.
I asked the question nobody wanted to ask.
“Where did the money go?”
Simone turned to the final page.
“To a second company.”
“Owned by Elaine?”
“No.”
“Grant?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“The beneficiary is someone named Rebecca Whitmore.”
Grant opened his eyes.
“My sister?”
I had met Rebecca only twice.
She had supposedly moved to Europe years ago after a family argument.
Grant looked terrified.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
May you like
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Because Rebecca died twelve years ago.”
