Chapter 6 - The Paper Trail of Greed
Adrian Voss stood alone beside the mahogany table, stripped of his dignity and his allies in less than ten minutes.
The seasoned lawyer didn't run. He knew the building’s elevators were locked, and forty-four floors of steel and glass offered no escape. Slowly, with trembling fingers, he removed his tortoiseshell glasses, folded them neatly, and placed them beside his unused Montblanc pen.
"You won't make the murder charge stick," Voss whispered, his voice stripped of its aristocratic polish. "Nine years is too long. The physical evidence on that vessel is at the bottom of the Gulf of Maine."
"We don't need the vessel, Adrian," Martin Vance said, opening a file folder. "We have the original handwritten blueprints for the fuel manifold alterations found in your safe deposit box in Portsmouth this morning. You kept them as insurance against Juliette in case she ever turned on you. Criminals of your caliber always keep leverage on their partners. It's a fatal flaw."
Juliette dropped into her leather chair, burying her face in her manicured hands, sobbing with unrestrained, hysterical terror. "I was twenty-eight! You groomed me, Adrian! You told me Nate was our father's favorite and that I would end up with nothing! You said we were just going to scare him into retiring!"
"Quiet, Juliette," Graham said softly from his wheelchair.
The room fell silent once more. The old man looked at his daughter with no anger, only an overwhelming, crushing sorrow.
"I never had a favorite," Graham murmured, his breathing labored through the nasal tube. "Your trust fund was established the day you were born. You had thirty million dollars before you ever graduated from college. You had a seat at this table waiting for you. All you had to do was ask for my blessing."
Juliette didn't look up. Her shoulders shook violently as her tears soaked into the Carlyle merger documents spread before her.
Nathan turned to the remaining board members. "Ladies and gentlemen, pursuant to Article 4 of the incorporation charter, the discovery of fraudulent death certificates immediately invalidates all proxy transfers executed after October 14, 2017. My father retains his voting majority. The Carlyle merger is permanently terminated."
"Agreed," Thomas Sterling said firmly, his eyes flashing with righteous indignation as he looked at Voss. "Unanimously agreed."
The heavy doors opened again. Four uniformed state troopers and two federal investigators stepped into the boardroom, their badges gleaming under the recessed lighting.
"Adrian Voss? Juliette Hale?" the lead investigator asked. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, wire fraud, securities fraud, and aggravated identity theft. Place your hands behind your backs."
Nathan stepped back, wrapping an arm around Evelyn’s waist as the officers moved in.
Voss offered no resistance, extending his wrists with cold, bitter resignation. But as Juliette was pulled from her chair, her knees buckled.
"Nate! Nate, please!" she screamed, her polished hair tumbling loose around her tear-streaked face. "Tell them! I'm your sister! We played in the snow in Montpelier! You can't let them take me to prison! Nate!"
Nathan looked at her, his heart tearing in two. He remembered building snow forts with her when they were children. He remembered teaching her how to ride a bicycle without training wheels. But then he looked down at his dying father in the wheelchair, and he remembered the gray wool socks Evelyn had pulled onto emaciated feet in a freezing room in Dorchester.
"You made your choice nine years ago, Juliette," Nathan said quietly. "Now the law will make its choice."
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The officers led them out through the brass doors, Juliette’s frantic weeping fading down the long carpeted corridor until the heavy elevators chimed and carried them away.
In the quiet boardroom, Graham reached up, his frail fingers finding Evelyn’s hand. "Take me back to the bed, Evie. I'm tired. I'm so very tired."
