Chapter 17 - The Girl My Father Protected
Lillian Hart refused to leave the hotel until I promised that no one would force her into a car.
Fair enough.
We sat in the hotel restaurant instead.
Nathan remained twenty feet away.
Preston sat beside me.
Lillian held both hands around a mug of hot chocolate she never drank.
She was sixteen, but fear had made her expression older.
“My dad said you’d come,” she said.
“What did he tell you about me?”
“That you care about money more than people.”
Preston shifted.
I stopped him.
“What else?”
“That your father stole my mother’s inheritance.”
That one hurt.
“My father told me your mother left because of a family disagreement.”
“She didn’t leave. He made her leave.”
I kept my voice calm.
“What happened?”
Lillian stared into the mug.
“Mom found out something about the company. She threatened to go public.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. Dad never told me.”
“Did your mother speak about Walter?”
“She hated him.”
There was no reason for a sixteen-year-old to soften the truth for me.
I appreciated that.
“What did Malcolm tell your father?”
Lillian looked toward the window.
“That my grandfather—”
“Walter was your uncle.”
She blinked.
“Right. That Walter put money in a trust for me because he felt guilty.”
A trust.
So Malcolm had confirmed the secret.
“How much?”
“Dad said enough that we would never have to worry again.”
Preston asked, “Did Malcolm say what he wanted in return?”
She looked at him suspiciously.
“My dad had to sign papers.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Nathan answered his first.
His face changed.
“Daniel Hart has been located.”
Lillian stood so fast her chair fell backward.
“Where?”
Nathan hesitated.
That hesitation terrified her.
“Is he hurt?”
“He’s alive.”
“Where is he?”
“St. Joseph’s Hospital.”
Lillian began crying.
I stood immediately.
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Take us there.”
The drive felt endless.
At the hospital, Daniel Hart was conscious but badly injured.
His left arm was broken.
His forehead was stitched.
Lillian rushed to him.
“Dad!”
He held her with his good arm.
Then he saw me.
Everything in his face hardened.
“You.”
I stayed near the doorway.
“Mr. Hart.”
“Get out.”
“Dad,” Lillian whispered.
“I said get out!”
I could have left.
Instead, I closed the door.
“Malcolm Reeve gave you a million dollars.”
Daniel glared at me.
“You’ve been investigating me?”
“He’s using you.”
“You’re exactly like Walter.”
“What does that mean?”
“Always convinced you’re the smartest person in the room.”
I stepped closer.
“What happened to Elizabeth?”
His eyes filled with grief.
“You don’t deserve to say her name.”
“She was my aunt.”
“And you abandoned her.”
“I was seventeen when she disappeared from my life.”
“Because Walter made sure she disappeared!”
Lillian looked between us.
“Dad, what are you talking about?”
Daniel shut his eyes.
For years, he had apparently carried this story alone.
Finally, he spoke.
“Elizabeth discovered Walter was hiding losses in one of Whitmore’s early shipping divisions.”
Preston frowned.
“That’s not possible.”
“You weren’t there.”
Daniel continued.
“She confronted him. He threatened her. Paid her to leave New York.”
I thought of my father’s letter about Malcolm’s pension scheme.
“What year?”
“2008.”
Everything snapped into place.
The photograph.
My father outside the hospital with Elizabeth.
The period when he was investigating Reeve.
“Daniel, what if Elizabeth misunderstood what she found?”
“She had documents.”
“Do you still have them?”
His expression changed.
That was my answer.
“Malcolm wanted them.”
Silence.
“He paid you for them,” I said.
Daniel looked away.
“Where are they?”
“Gone.”
“Did he take them today?”
Daniel nodded.
“And then your car crashed?”
“I lost control.”
Nathan, standing near the door, asked, “Your brakes?”
Daniel went still.
“I don’t know.”
Lillian’s face drained of color.
I turned toward Nathan.
“Have the car impounded.”
He nodded.
Daniel looked at me for the first time without hatred.
“You think Malcolm caused it?”
“I think Malcolm Reeve has spent fifteen years making other people take risks for him.”
Preston stepped closer.
“Mr. Hart, what exactly did you sign?”
Daniel whispered, “A proxy.”
“For Lillian’s trust rights?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much of Whitmore Holdings does she inherit?”
Daniel finally looked directly at me.
“Twenty percent.”
Preston went pale.
With Reeve’s current fourteen percent and Lillian’s twenty percent proxy, Malcolm could control thirty-four percent.
Not enough to defeat my sixty-four percent voting position.
Unless the allegations against me triggered removal provisions.
I turned toward Preston.
“The morality clause.”
He understood immediately.
The trust stripped my controlling vote if I were indicted for financial crimes against the foundation.
Malcolm didn’t need to prove I stole anything.
He only needed prosecutors to charge me.
Then my voting block would temporarily suspend.
And Lillian’s proxy could make him the largest active shareholder.
Daniel stared at me.
“I didn’t know.”
“No,” I said quietly. “That’s what Malcolm counts on.”
Lillian wiped her tears.
“Can I undo it?”
Preston answered carefully.
“If the proxy was obtained through fraud or coercion, possibly.”
“Then do it.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Lily—”
“No, Dad.”
Her voice strengthened.
“You told me Rosalind was stealing from us.”
She looked at me.
“But she came here when you were hurt.”
That was the first crack in the wall between us.
Then Nathan returned with another update.
“Federal forensic teams just confirmed someone tampered with Daniel’s brake line.”
Lillian grabbed her father’s hand.
Daniel began shaking.
“Malcolm tried to kill me.”
I looked toward the rain outside the hospital window.
“No.”
My voice was cold.
“He tried to erase the person who could explain how he got Lillian’s proxy.”
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And that meant Malcolm Reeve had finally made a mistake.
He had left behind a witness.
