Chapter 2 - The Red Wax Seal
The dining room chandelier cast a harsh glare over the red wax.
Daniel stared at the seal, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. "My father died twelve years ago. His will was probated, the estate was split, and I took control of the voting shares. Whatever game you're playing won't hold up in probate."
"Open it, Daniel," Evelyn said, resting her palms flat against the linen cloth.
Caroline leaned forward, her silver hair catching the light. "Arthur left everything to Daniel and Grant. You were merely granted a widow's allowance from the ancillary trust until you remarried or died. That was Arthur's will."
"You never read the secondary codicil, did you, Caroline?" Evelyn's voice remained calm, like deep water before a hurricane.
Daniel scoffed, breaking the red wax with his thumb. He pulled out twenty pages of crisp bond paper stamped with the insignia of Boston's oldest maritime law firm.
His eyes scanned the first page.
His face went from smug condescension to an ashen, sickly gray in less than five seconds.
"What is this?" Daniel whispered, his fingers beginning to tremble.
"Read it aloud to your shareholders," Evelyn instructed smoothly. "Read paragraph four."
Daniel’s throat bobbed. He tried to speak, but only a dry rasp escaped his mouth.
Grant reached across the table, snatching the second page from Daniel's numb hand. Grant's eyes darted across the text, widening with sheer horror.
"Jesus Christ," Grant muttered under his breath, dropping his Scotch glass. The amber liquor splashed across the white tablecloth, staining it like old blood.
"Grant, what does it say?" Caroline demanded, rising halfway out of her chair.
Grant looked at his brother, then at his mother, his face completely drained of color. "In 2008, when the subprime collapse hit... Daniel didn't secure a federal bailout loan. He defaulted on the commercial paper."
The family accountant, who had been sitting quietly at the end of the table, suddenly dropped his silver fork onto the porcelain plate with a deafening clatter.
"Arthur didn't bail the company out with corporate reserves," Grant read, his voice cracking. "Arthur's personal assets were entirely liquidated to pay Daniel's margin calls. Every factory, every vessel, every patent."
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"Then who funded the recapitalization?" Melissa asked, her eyes darting between Daniel and Evelyn.
"Evelyn," Grant said, his hands shaking so violently the paper fluttered. "Evelyn sold her family's commercial timberland in Maine. She purchased the senior secured debt under an independent sovereign entity called St. Jude Holdings."
