Chapter 6 - A Daughter’s True Worth
Evelyn Whitmore looked at Vanessa Price as if she were a roach that had crawled onto her fine china.
""I have no idea what you are talking about,"" Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a register of icy, aristocratic cruelty. ""If you stole money from my son’s enterprise, you will face the law alone, Vanessa. The Whitmores do not associate with thieves.""
""You monstrous old snake!"" Vanessa lunged forward, but Grant grabbed her by the upper arm, shoving her toward the dining room doors.
""Get out of this house, Vanessa,"" Grant hissed, his face twisted in panic. ""Get your things and get out before I call the sheriff myself!""
""You were in on it, Grant!"" Vanessa screamed, her hair falling wild around her shoulders, the diamond necklace crooked against her collarbone. ""You signed the preliminary authorizations for the Cayman transfers! You told me Daniel would never notice because he was too busy with the freight lines! Don't you dare play the saint now!""
""Security!"" Grant bellowed into the hallway. ""Get this woman off the property immediately!""
Two private security guards in dark suits appeared in the doorway. Vanessa struggled for half a second before realizing she was utterly defeated. She turned back toward me, her eyes wild with terror and rage.
""You think you won, Claire?"" she spat, tears of fury carving tracks through her makeup. ""You think you can run an eighty-million-dollar empire? They will devour you alive! You're nothing but a hillbilly with a dead man's signature!""
""Take her out,"" Nathan Cole said calmly.
The guards escorted Vanessa down the hall. Her heels skittered across the marble floor until the heavy front oak doors slammed shut, cutting off the sound of her screaming like an axe through rope.
Inside the dining room, the silence was suffocating.
Grant stood by the sideboard, his chest heaving, his tie crooked. Caroline had sunk her face into her hands, quietly weeping. Evelyn remained sitting upright, her face drained of color, her ancient hands trembling slightly against her silk lap.
I looked at Evelyn. For seventeen years, this woman had made me feel invisible. She had seated me at the far corner of holiday tables. She had referred to my parents as ""those unfortunate people from the hills."" When Emma was born with a minor heart murmur, Evelyn had openly wondered aloud at a garden party if ""the child had inherited poor Appalachian blood.""
""Grant,"" I said.
My brother-in-law flinched. He looked at me as if seeing me for the very first time.
""Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock,"" I said, my voice steady and clear, ""you will submit your resignation as Vice President of Operations to Nathan Cole’s office.""
""Claire, listen to reason—"" Grant began, his hands out in an open plea.
""You will resign,"" I repeated. ""And in exchange, Whitmore Holdings will not submit the second half of the Crowe & Horwath audit to the federal prosecutor. The half that details your signature on the dummy invoices for the Lexington equipment leases.""
Grant’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked at Nathan Cole. Nathan merely offered a microscopic, pitiless nod.
""You have twenty-four hours to clear your office at the headquarters,"" I continued. ""You will retain your personal pension, your car, and your home on Tates Creek Road. Nothing else. If you ever contest Ethan and Emma’s trust, or if you ever set foot on this property without my written permission, Nathan will file the federal papers before the courthouse closes at noon.""
Grant swallowed hard. He looked down at the floor, defeated, broken, and stripped of the arrogance he had worn like armor for fifty years.
""Understood,"" he whispered.
""Caroline,"" I said.
Grant’s wife looked up, her mascara smudged, her eyes red.
May you like
""Take your husband home.""
Without another word, Caroline stood, took Grant by the arm, and led him out of the dining room. Their footsteps faded into the evening quiet, leaving only Evelyn, Nathan, my children, and me beneath the glow of the chandelier.
