Chapter 3 - HIS MOTHER KNEW MORE THAN I DID
Mark’s mother, Diane Parker, was sitting three tables from the stage.
Until that moment, she had been smiling proudly.
Now she looked like someone had turned off the lights behind her eyes.
Mark stared at her.
“Mom?”
Diane did not move.
Jessica did.
She stepped farther away.
The necklace glittered under the ballroom lights.
I looked from Diane to Mark.
“What is Parker Meridian?”
Diane rose slowly.
“This is inappropriate.”
That sentence almost made me laugh.
Apparently stealing millions could be discussed later, but discussing it in a ballroom was poor manners.
Sterling answered.
“Parker Meridian received approximately $3.2 million from entities connected to Ms. Reed.”
Diane’s voice sharpened.
“You have no right to expose private family finances.”
“I have every right to review money taken from my company.”
Her eyes snapped toward me.
For years, Diane had treated me like an unfortunate accessory to her son.
At Thanksgiving, she asked whether I planned to “do something meaningful someday.”
At Christmas, she gave me cookbooks.
Now she knew.
And she hated knowing.
Mark climbed onto the stage.
“Mom, tell me what this is.”
Diane looked at him.
“You said Jessica’s firms were paying referral commissions.”
Jessica whispered, “Oh my God.”
Mark turned.
“You told her?”
Jessica’s face twisted.
“You told me your mother was handling tax structure.”
Their lies were colliding faster than either could control.
I stepped between the arguments.
“Who owns Parker Meridian?”
Diane hesitated.
Sterling answered.
“Legally, Diane Parker holds sixty percent.”
Mark looked genuinely shocked.
“And the other forty?”
Sterling changed the slide.
Mark Parker.
Mark shook his head.
“No.”
“You signed the formation documents.”
“I never signed that.”
That got my attention.
For all his cruelty, Mark’s surprise looked real.
I knew his face.
I had loved that face for eleven years.
I knew when he lied.
This time, he was frightened.
Not evasive.
Sterling handed me copies.
Mark grabbed them.
His signature was there.
Perfect.
Except for one detail.
The date.
Mark had been in Singapore that day.
I remembered because I had arranged the meeting that saved his failing Asia-Pacific presentation.
He could not have signed the original papers in California.
Diane sat down.
Her hands began to shake.
I looked at her.
“Who filed these?”
She said nothing.
“Diane.”
Her eyes moved toward Jessica.
Then toward Arthur Sterling.
Then back to me.
Finally, she whispered:
“Mark’s father.”
May you like
The ballroom changed again.
Because Mark’s father had been dead for seven years.
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