Chapter 7
I requested the old accident file the next morning.
I knew I was opening a painful chapter of my life.
But I needed answers.
My parents died when I was eleven.
My father, James Whitmore, had been a civil engineer.
My mother, Renee, managed community development projects.
They were returning from a charity fundraiser when their car left the highway during heavy rain.
I remembered the police officer standing in Grandma's living room.
I remembered Grandma dropping a porcelain cup.
I remembered asking when my parents were coming home.
Nobody answered.
For years, I avoided thinking about the accident.
Now I had to face it.
Angela helped obtain the available records.
The original investigation concluded that weather and loss of control were the likely causes.
There was no finding of criminal conduct.
But Grandma's private review raised questions about maintenance documentation.
A service entry had been altered.
The mechanic who supposedly performed the work could not be located.
And one invoice had been processed through a company later connected to Victor Hale.
I stared at the document.
"Victor?"
Angela nodded.
"The connection is indirect."
I looked up.
"But it exists."
"Yes."
I felt cold.
"Does that mean he caused the crash?"
"No. We cannot conclude that."
I knew she was right.
But my mind raced toward the worst possibilities.
Had someone targeted my parents?
Had Grandma suspected it?
Had she spent years trying to protect me from the same people who were now trying to steal her company?
Margaret joined us.
She looked deeply troubled.
"Simone, your grandmother never told me she believed Victor caused the accident."
I nodded.
"But she investigated."
"Yes."
I looked at her.
"Why stop?"
Margaret took a slow breath.
"Because there wasn't enough evidence to support an accusation."
I sat back.
For a moment, I felt ashamed.
I had been ready to believe the worst because Marcus wanted me to.
He had placed one terrible possibility in front of me.
And I nearly allowed it to distract me from the fraud we could actually prove.
I took a breath.
"Then we focus on evidence."
Angela smiled faintly.
"Exactly."
We provided the historical records to the appropriate investigators for review.
Then we returned to the current case.
The financial evidence against Meridian Development Partners was growing.
The disputed pledge.
The forged signature.
The suspicious consulting payments.
The stolen company records.
And messages showing that Marcus and his family had coordinated the attempted transfer.
Then came the breakthrough.
Robert Gaines agreed to cooperate.
His attorney contacted Angela and Samuel.
Robert was prepared to provide information about Victor, Richard, and Marcus.
I didn't trust him.
But I wanted the truth.
The investigators conducted formal interviews.
We received updates through counsel.
Robert admitted that he had leaked confidential information.
He acknowledged receiving payments through consulting arrangements.
And he confirmed that Victor and Richard had been planning a takeover for years.
But when asked about my parents' accident, Robert denied knowing anything beyond rumors.
The available evidence did not establish that the crash was anything other than a tragic accident.
I sat with that answer for a long time.
Part of me wanted a villain to blame.
Someone I could point to and say, "You took my parents."
But I couldn't create certainty where none existed.
I owed my parents the truth.
Not a story shaped by anger.
The real betrayal was already terrible enough.
And it was unfolding in front of me.
Robert also revealed something unexpected.
Marcus had not originally been part of the takeover plan.
He joined after meeting Richard and Victor during a business expansion effort.
They discovered he had become acquainted with me through professional circles.
Then Richard encouraged the relationship.
What began as a calculated introduction became an engagement.
At least, that was how Robert described it.
I read the summary carefully.
My hands began shaking.
Marcus knew.
Before he proposed.
Before he promised forever.
Before he stood at the altar.
He knew his family wanted my company.
I closed the report.
And cried.
Not because I still wanted him.
But because the woman I had been on my wedding day deserved better.
She deserved honesty.
She deserved love.
She deserved someone who didn't measure her worth in shares and assets.
Tasha came over that evening.
She found me sitting beside Grandma's old piano.
"I heard there was a breakthrough."
I nodded.
"Robert talked."
She sat beside me.
"How do you feel?"
I thought about it.
"Angry."
She nodded.
"That makes sense."
"Embarrassed."
She looked at me.
"Simone."
I shook my head.
"I stood in front of two hundred people and promised to love a man who was using me."
Tasha took my hand.
"You stood there because you believed him."
I looked at her.
"How could I be so wrong?"
She squeezed my fingers.
"Because he worked very hard to make you believe him."
Tears filled my eyes.
For months, I had been blaming myself.
For trusting him.
For loving him.
For missing the signs.
But the evidence made something clear.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
It was deliberate deception.
And I had a right to be hurt.
The following morning, Angela called.
"Simone, the court has granted temporary protective relief related to certain disputed transactions."
I sat straighter.
"What does that mean?"
"It helps prevent further unauthorized dealings involving the contested interests while the matter proceeds."
Relief washed over me.
"And Marcus?"
"His access to company systems has been revoked. He has no independent authority to act for Whitmore Holdings."
I closed my eyes.
"Good."
Angela continued.
"There's another development."
I waited.
"The lender has provided additional documents."
My stomach tightened.
"What documents?"
"Internal communications involving Meridian."
I leaned forward.
"And?"
"They discuss an anticipated transfer of Whitmore control immediately after your wedding."
I stared at the wall.
Then Angela said something that made my blood run cold.
"Simone, they also discuss what would happen if you refused to sign."
I stopped breathing.
"What?"
She hesitated.
"A contingency plan."
My hands began shaking.
"What kind of plan?"
Angela's voice became serious.
"They intended to pressure the company through public accusations and a manufactured financial crisis."
I closed my eyes.
"And the timing?"
"Within forty-eight hours of the failed transfer."
I looked at the calendar.
Forty-eight hours had already passed.
Then my phone began buzzing.
A message from our public relations director.
SIMONE, CALL ME NOW.
Another from the board chairman.
WE HAVE A PROBLEM.
Then a news alert appeared.
WHITMORE HOLDINGS FACES ALLEGATIONS OF FINANCIAL MISCONDUCT FOLLOWING HEIRESS'S LAVISH WEDDING.
I stared at the screen.
Marcus hadn't simply tried to steal my company.
May you like
When I refused, he had launched the next phase of the plan.
And now he was trying to destroy everything Grandma had built.
