Chapter 5 - The Ultimatum
The tension in the boardroom was thick enough to cut with a glass cutter. Dad was slumped in his chair, staring at the floor as the reality of what Blake had done finally settled into his fading consciousness.
"We can settle this quietly," Marcus Thorne said, breaking the silence as he slid a single-page document across the table toward Blake. "Or we can let the district attorney's office review the digital audit logs of the data breach by close of business today."
Blake snatched the paper. His eyes scanned the terms: an immediate, unconditional revocation of the Miller Development Group claim over my architectural portfolio, a formal retraction of the structural modifications submitted to the city, and a signed confession acknowledging that the asset transfer was executed without valid legal consent.
"This ruins me," Blake choked out, looking up at Julian with desperate pleading. "This-this destroys my firm before we even launch."
"Your firm was built on stolen foundations," Julian replied coldly. "You're lucky we're offering an administrative resolution instead of a prison cell."
Blake looked at me, his expression twisting from panic to bitter fury. "You're really going to destroy your own family over a drafting table?"
"You destroyed the family years ago, Blake," I said quietly. "You just finally ran out of other people's money to pay for it."
He didn't sign. Instead, he grabbed his briefcase, spat a curse under his breath, and stormed out of the boardroom, the glass door slamming behind him with a sharp echo.
Dad looked up, his eyes swimming with quiet tears. "Natalie... please. Can't we talk about this? Can't we fix it as a family?"
"The house is yours, Dad," I said softly, softening my tone for his sake, though the emotional distance between us was now absolute. "I've transferred my share of the title back to you free and clear. But I'm not carrying the rest of you anymore."
I turned and walked out of the boardroom, leaving Dad sitting alone at the expansive table under the cold glow of the corporate projector. Marcus walked with me down the private elevator toward the lobby.
"That handled the immediate legal exposure," Marcus said as the doors slid open to the ground floor. "But your brother isn't the type to walk away empty-handed when he's cornered."
"Let him try," I said, stepping out into the crisp autumn air.
May you like
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out. It was an email from an unfamiliar address—not Blake, and not my parents. It was a secure message from an encrypted archive marked with a digital timestamp dated four years ago, right around the time my father's original business collapsed.
The subject line read: The real reason Miller & Sons failed.
