Chapter 4 - The Mother's Gambit
I let the phone ring twice before tapping the speaker icon. The silence on the other end was heavy, punctuated only by the faint, muffled sound of weeping in the background.
"Cormick," my mother’s voice came through, sounding decades older than she had across the dinner table just hours ago. The sharp, polished composure was entirely gone, replaced by the ragged edge of genuine terror. "Please. I know what you’re doing with Silas. I saw the auditor’s car outside the secondary office."
"Then you know I'm only looking at paperwork, Laurel," I replied neutrally. "Paperwork that your husband and your golden child generated."
"Barrett isn't here," she said, her voice dropping to a hurried whisper. "He left twenty minutes ago to meet with Arthur. They think they can cut some backroom deal to save the primary trust. But they don't know everything, Cormick. They never let me look at the actual ledger."
I exchanged a quick, sharp look with Silas, who immediately began tracing incoming call routing on his secondary console.
"What don't they know, Laurel?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
"The debt at Apex Capital... it wasn't just for Rhett's logistics company," she confessed, a sob breaking through her words. "Three years ago, when the market shifted, Barrett didn't use the loan to expand. He used it to cover a margin call on a private real estate venture in the Caymans. He put your sister's college fund, my mother's estate, and every remaining asset we had into a shell company controlled by..." She paused, choking back a gasp.
"Controlled by whom?" I demanded, leaning over the desk.
"By your uncle Arthur," she whispered. "Arthur set up the offshore vehicle. Rhett was just the signature they used to keep the banks from looking too closely at the domestic accounts. If you liquidate everything tomorrow, Barrett loses the house, yes—but Arthur walks away clean with millions hidden in the trust."
The revelation landed with the force of a physical blow. Arthur hadn't come to the warehouse tonight out of fear or remorse; he had come to manage his exposure. The hard drive he gave us—the "insurance policy"—was likely scrubbed clean of his own fingerprints, leaving Barrett and Rhett holding the entire criminal liability for wire fraud and securities manipulation.
"Where are they meeting?" I asked.
"The old family boathouse at the lake property," Laurel said, her voice trembling violently. "The one where you used to code when you were a teenager. Cormick... don't let Arthur destroy your father completely. He’s still your father."
"My father helped write the code that locked me out of my own life, Laurel," I said coldly. "And he didn't care when he put me on the street seven years ago. Why should I care now?"
I ended the call before she could answer, throwing the phone onto the desk.
May you like
Silas looked up from his screen, his expression grim. "I've got a live ping on Arthur's vehicle. He just turned onto Route 9 heading north toward the lake house. And a second vehicle—Barrett's car—is converging on the same location from the city."
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