Chapter 12 - Olivia Says Yes
Margaret arrived at Olivia's office the next morning.
Olivia had called her personally.
"I've reconsidered."
Margaret stared.
"About the guarantee?"
"About everything."
Suspicion immediately replaced surprise.
"What changed?"
Olivia looked tired on purpose.
She had removed the emerald confidence Margaret hated and replaced it with something her mother understood.
Defeat.
"My clients can't know about family conflict."
Margaret sat.
Olivia continued.
"If Dad can affect the building, vendors, or press, this becomes expensive."
Margaret tried to hide her satisfaction.
"I told you."
"Yes."
Those two words were difficult.
Not because Olivia believed them.
Because Margaret enjoyed hearing them.
"I'll consider the twelve-million-dollar guarantee."
Margaret's eyes brightened.
"But I want something."
"What?"
"Thirty days."
"Henry won't like that."
"Then fifteen."
Margaret considered.
"Ten."
"Fine."
"And the management arrangement?"
"After the guarantee."
Margaret leaned back.
"You've finally grown up."
Olivia smiled.
"Maybe."
That afternoon, Henry called.
He sounded victorious.
"Knew you'd come around."
"I haven't signed."
"You will."
"I need documentation."
"Of what?"
"Where the money goes."
His voice sharpened.
"Why?"
"Compliance."
"You're guaranteeing the loan, not investigating me."
"I'm a lawyer. I investigate parking receipts."
Henry grumbled.
Then:
"I'll get you something."
That was exactly what Olivia wanted.
Forty-eight hours later, Henry's assistant emailed a sanitized transaction summary.
Most of the payment would go to Westridge liabilities.
Three million would go to a consulting company called Blue Lantern Advisory.
Julian searched it.
Nothing.
No employees.
No meaningful history.
Registered agent in Nevada.
But one banking reference led to Toronto.
Another to the Cayman Islands.
Then Malcolm called.
"Henry requested access to one of my conference rooms tomorrow."
"For what?"
"Private meeting."
"Who?"
"He didn't say."
Olivia's pulse quickened.
"When?"
"Seven."
"Let him."
At 6:43 the next evening, Olivia sat in a vacant office two floors below Malcolm's conference center.
The building's security system gave Malcolm lawful access to common-area logs and entry records.
They could not record private conversation without legal complications.
But they could see who arrived.
At 6:58, Henry entered.
At 7:06, another man appeared.
Julian stared at the monitor.
"Do you know him?"
Olivia did not.
Malcolm did.
He whispered:
"No."
"What?"
"That's impossible."
"Who is he?"
Malcolm stood slowly.
"Thomas Avery."
Olivia's blood turned cold.
"Thomas is dead."
The man on the screen was around sixty-five.
Older than the photographs.
Gray-haired.
Lean.
But Malcolm was trembling.
"I went to his funeral."
Olivia looked at the security image.
"Then that's not Thomas."
Malcolm moved closer.
The man turned toward the camera.
Malcolm whispered:
"That's his brother."
Olivia frowned.
"Thomas had a brother?"
"Half brother."
"Name?"
Malcolm looked at her.
"Edward Vale."
Vale.
Eleanor Vale.
Olivia suddenly understood the connection.
"Was Edward related to Eleanor?"
Malcolm's face changed.
"They were married."
Olivia stopped breathing.
Julian stared at him.
"Eleanor married her lover's brother?"
"No."
Malcolm shook his head.
"She married Edward first."
Silence.
Olivia's mind raced.
"Then Thomas..."
"Had an affair with his brother's wife."
Olivia looked through the glass at Henry meeting Edward.
The family story had just become much uglier.
At 8:19, Henry left.
Edward remained alone for eleven minutes.
Before exiting, he looked directly at the security camera.
Then lifted one finger to his lips.
Julian whispered:
"He knows."
Olivia's phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She opened the message.
A photograph appeared.
Olivia sitting in the surveillance room.
Taken through the window from another building.
Below it:
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YOU HAVE YOUR FATHER'S EYES.
BUT WHICH FATHER?
