Chapter 6 - The Money He Had Already Spent
The first demand from Briarstone Capital arrived nine days later.
Miriam brought it into my office before the morning leadership meeting.
“Richard has another problem.”
I read the opening paragraph.
Then I read it again.
Briarstone claimed a security interest in proceeds connected to Richard’s alleged ownership rights in Nexora.
I looked up.
“He borrowed against it?”
“Apparently.”
“How much?”
“Several million. We’re still verifying the underlying documents.”
For a moment, I could not speak.
The office confrontation had looked like greed.
Now it looked like desperation wearing greed’s clothes.
Richard had not merely imagined a fortune.
He had convinced someone else he possessed one.
The lawyers worked through the records.
Months before our funding announcement, Richard had approached a private lender claiming a retained economic interest in my shares. The lender’s review had relied partly on documents he provided and partly on assurances that the interest was awaiting formal recognition.
There were conditions, qualifications, and disputed representations.
Enough complexity to keep several lawyers employed.
The essential problem remained simple.
Nexora’s official ownership records showed no interest belonging to Richard.
The divorce agreement contradicted his claim.
And the memorandum supporting his story carried a false certification bearing my husband’s name.
Briarstone wanted answers.
So did we.
Oliver informed our counsel that he no longer represented Richard in the matter. He did not reveal privileged discussions. He simply corrected the contact information and made clear that no conclusions should be drawn from his participation in the earlier meeting.
I respected that.
He had entered the room with an unverified story.
He had stopped when the story failed.
Richard found new counsel.
A lawsuit followed.
The complaint argued that the old settlement should not prevent enforcement of the alleged private memorandum.
Our attorneys responded through the court.
No dramatic letters sent to every customer.
No personal campaign.
Facts, records, and requests directed to the people responsible for examining them.
Richard chose a different approach.
A business gossip site published a story about Nexora’s founder hiding a former spouse’s stake.
The article called me secretive.
It described Daniel as the powerful attorney behind my success.
That sentence made Priya so angry she printed it and pinned it above her desk.
“Apparently we’ve spent eight years working for your marriage.”
“Please don’t let the engineers see that.”
“They already have. Diego wants back pay from Daniel.”
I laughed despite myself.
Then an investor called.
Not laughing.
We arranged a board meeting.
I explained the claim, the records, and the steps counsel was taking.
Marianne Cho, one of our earliest major investors, listened without interrupting.
Then she asked whether I had known about Richard’s borrowing.
“No.”
Whether any official company register supported his claim.
“No.”
Whether his complaint created immediate operational restrictions.
Miriam answered that one carefully.
The board requested updates and documented its review.
Nobody told me to be less emotional.
Nobody told me to handle it privately because the subject was embarrassing.
They treated it as a problem requiring governance.
Afterward, Marianne stayed behind.
“You look surprised.”
“I thought they might question my judgment.”
“They did.”
I looked at her.
“That’s their job,” she said. “Then they listened to the answers.”
I sat down.
For so long, questioning had meant being diminished.
I was learning that responsible scrutiny could also protect.
Meanwhile, the document examination began producing results.
The signature attributed to me matched a scan from an old vendor agreement.
The witnessing certification used language lifted from a genuine document Daniel’s former firm had issued in an unrelated matter.
The file carried traces of editing inconsistent with its claimed age.
None of that alone became a courtroom victory.
Together, it created a pattern our attorneys could test.
Then a former administrative contractor contacted Miriam.
Her name was Allison Reed.
She had recently worked for a business Richard operated.
“I think you need to ask for the original source files,” she said.
Miriam asked what she meant.
Allison paused.
“He told me to clean up an old agreement. I thought he meant formatting.”
My hands went cold when Miriam relayed the message.
“What did she actually do?”
“We don’t know everything yet. Her own attorney is involved.”
That was sensible.
It was also maddening.
I wanted the truth immediately.
Evidence did not care about my schedule.
That evening, I stayed late until Priya appeared at my door.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Trying to solve betrayal with overtime.”
I looked at the dark windows.
She was right.
I shut down my laptop.
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Richard had already spent money based on ownership he did not have.
I would not spend my life pretending I could work hard enough to control what he did next.
