Chapter 5 - The Boathouse Meeting
The rain had started by the time my car crested the winding ridge overlooking the old family lake house. The wooden structure sat at the water's edge, dark and monolithic against the slate-gray surface of the lake, illuminated only by the harsh high beams of two sedans parked haphazardly near the slipway.
I cut my headlights a hundred yards back, rolling to a silent stop beneath the canopy of ancient pines. Sloan stayed in the vehicle with the encrypted tablet, maintaining a secure uplink to Silas downtown, while I walked the final stretch down the wet wooden dock alone.
Through the weathered glass windows of the boathouse, I could see them.
Barrett was leaning against an old workbench, his posture slumped, his tie loosened around his thick neck. Arthur stood opposite him, holding a leather briefcase and gesturing wildly with his hands, his voice carrying clearly across the damp night air.
"...you absolute idiot, Barrett! If you hadn't let Rhett bleed the logistics account dry on his sports cars, we would have had enough runway to wash the Cayman funds through the secondary shell before Cormick bought the debt!" Arthur shouted, his face red with fury.
Barrett didn't yell back. He looked defeated, staring hollowly at the floorboards where we used to store old outboard motors and fishing gear. "He has everything, Arthur. The house, the accounts, the corporate charters. He looked at me tonight... and I saw exactly what I looked like when I broke him seven years ago."
"Spare me the melodrama," Arthur snapped, snapping the latches of his briefcase open. "We just need to sign over the remaining land parcels in Wyoming to my offshore entity before the court injunction hits in the morning. I brought the quitclaim deeds. Sign them, and we can claim it was part of an independent family restructuring."
I reached out, my fingers curling around the heavy wooden door handle of the boathouse. The iron latch felt cold beneath my palm—the exact same latch I had stared at through tear-filled eyes the night they threw my boxes into the dirt and told me I wasn't part of the future.
I pushed the door open. It swung inward with a loud, echoing creak that cut through Arthur's words instantly.
May you like
Both men snapped their heads toward the entrance. Arthur froze, the pen hovering inches above the paperwork in his briefcase, while Barrett slowly raised his head, his eyes widening in horror as the shadows parted to reveal who was standing in the doorway.
"You're a little late for a family meeting, Arthur," I said, stepping across the threshold as the rain drummed a relentless rhythm against the tin roof overhead. "And as for the Wyoming land parcels... I believe those were legally attached to the primary commercial default portfolio I purchased at nine o'clock this morning."
