Chapter 24 - The Race to Wilmington
We didn't say another word. Declan grabbed the cloth-bound ledger from Mercer’s desk, while Mercer snatched his trench coat and hat.
"I’m coming with you," the old lawyer said with iron resolve. "I am still the registered custodian of William Hawthorne’s original release deed. No judge in New York or Delaware can rule on Arthur's petition without my certified testimony."
We sprinted out to our SUV. Declan fired the engine, gravel spraying as we reversed onto the country road. I immediately opened my laptop on the passenger seat, tethering to my phone’s cellular data, and dialed Sarah Lin.
"Sarah! Where are you?" I demanded over the roar of the highway.
"I'm sitting outside Judge Holbrook's chambers at the Manhattan Surrogate Court," Sarah whispered frantically. "Vance’s legal team is already here. Cassidy, Arthur Vance himself just walked in. He’s wearing an immaculate three-piece suit, looking like he already owns the world. His lawyer, Gerald Sterling, has a red petition folder in his hand."
"Listen to me carefully," I commanded, typing rapidly to open our Delaware corporate filing dashboard. "Vance is trying to trigger a dormant pride clause in William’s will. He claims Declan lost majority control. Do not let Sterling present that petition until we verify the Dover state registry!"
"I can object on grounds of procedural notice," Sarah replied, "but Judge Holbrook is notoriously rigid. If Sterling presents a prima facie hereditary petition, the court clerk will stamp an automatic temporary restraining order freezing Hawthorne Industries' voting assets. Once that stamp hits the paper, our executive power is paralyzed."
"How long can you stall?" Declan shouted toward the dashboard microphone as he weaved through morning commuter traffic at ninety miles an hour.
"Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if I challenge Sterling’s service of process," Sarah said, her voice taut with panic. "Declan, where are you?"
"We're forty miles north, driving as fast as humanly possible, and Julian Mercer is in the back seat with the original Zurich release deed."
A sharp gasp came through the speaker. "Mercer? You found Mercer?"
"He has the proof Vance waived his bloodline claim twenty years ago," I said. "Keep Vance in that hallway, Sarah. Do whatever it takes."
I hung up and opened the Delaware Division of Corporations portal. The screen showed our pending registration: *Hawthorne Enterprises Holdings LLC — Reacquired Class A Common Shares — Status: PENDING CLERK REVIEW.*
I called the registrar’s direct line in Dover. After three agonizing rings, a clerk answered with maddening bureaucratic calm.
"Delaware Division of Corporations, how may I help you?"
"My name is Cassidy Vance-Hawthorne. I am the executive director of Hawthorne Holdings. We submitted an emergency filing for an expedited expedited share certification at eight-oh-two this morning. File number nine-four-two-one-six."
"Ma'am, expedited filings take up to four business hours—"
"I don't have four hours!" I pleaded, my voice cracking with desperation as I looked at Declan, who was gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were purple. "There is an active corporate fraud being attempted at the New York surrogate court right this second. The company represents fifteen thousand factory jobs and four generations of family integrity. If that filing isn't certified immediately, a predatory claimant will steal controlling interest before the clock runs out."
The clerk paused on the other end of the line. The sterile sound of keyboard clicking echoed over the receiver.
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"Let me speak to the division director," a voice suddenly cut in from the back seat. Julian Mercer leaned forward, taking my phone with steady, weathered hands. "This is Julian Mercer, retired bar counselor number four-one-zero-nine. Put Arthur Vance’s filings on hold and certify Declan Hawthorne’s docket immediately under Section 203 of the General Corporation Law. Do it now, or you will be subpoenaed into a federal fraud hearing before noon."
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