Chapter 7 - Their Father’s WarningThe missing archive box had been labeled THOMAS GRANT — PERSONAL / EXECUTIVE CORRESPONDENCE.
Allison remembered it.
After their father died, she had spent weeks sorting documents in his office.
Tax records.
Property histories.
Letters from lenders.
Handwritten notes from the early years of Grant Medical Properties.
The archive box had seemed unimportant.
Now it was gone.
Camille finally answered at noon.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“What did you take from Dad’s office?”
Silence.
“Camille.”
“A folder.”
“What folder?”
“I didn’t know it mattered.”
“Derek says it mattered.”
Camille sounded frightened.
“He asked whether Dad kept personal notes about company partners.”
“When?”
“After the funeral.”
Allison closed her eyes.
Six weeks after Thomas died.
Seven months before Alder Row was formed.
“What did you give him?”
“A green file.”
“What was in it?”
“Letters. Notes. I didn’t read most of them.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Allison nearly screamed.
Instead she said, “Come to the office.”
An hour later, Camille sat in Thomas Grant’s old conference room while Allison unlocked a fireproof cabinet.
Owen had recovered a scanned inventory list.
The missing green file had a handwritten title:
D.H. — CONCERNS.
Allison’s stomach dropped.
“Derek Hale,” she said.
Camille looked sick.
They searched backup drives for hours.
At 4:40 p.m., Owen found a scanned email attached to an old legal memorandum.
Thomas had sent it to Derek four months before his death.
Allison read silently.
Then again.
Derek,
I am increasingly uncomfortable with your interest in modifying distribution structures and with the way you discuss my daughters’ respective ownership interests.
Their relationship is complicated enough without financial pressure.
Do not use Camille’s resentment toward Allison as leverage in company decisions.
I mean this plainly.
Thomas
Allison sat back.
Camille covered her mouth.
“He knew.”
“He suspected.”
“I gave Derek the file.”
“Yes.”
“I gave him Dad’s warning about him.”
“Yes.”
Camille began crying.
Allison looked away.
For the first time since the hospital, her anger toward Camille was joined by something else.
Not forgiveness.
Grief.
Their father had seen the crack in the family.
He had tried to protect it.
After he died, Camille had handed Derek the map.
Owen entered carrying another printout.
“There’s more.”
Allison looked up.
“Thomas asked company counsel to reduce Derek’s approval authority six months before he died.”
Mara frowned.
“That never happened.”
“Why?”
“Thomas died before the updated delegation was signed.”
Allison stared at the table.
Derek had known exactly how much authority he retained.
He had known Thomas distrusted him.
And after Thomas died, Allison had done the opposite of what her father intended.
She had promoted Derek.
Camille whispered, “He told me Dad hated him because Dad wanted to control you.”
Allison laughed bitterly.
“And you believed that too.”
“Yes.”
Owen slid another document forward.
“This is a draft memo Thomas never sent.”
Allison read the first paragraph.
The rest blurred.
If anything happens to me before we restructure finance, Allison needs to understand that Derek is ambitious in ways she mistakes for loyalty.
Allison’s eyes burned.
She hated her father for not saying it directly.
She hated herself for not seeing it.
Mostly she hated Derek for making every old memory suspicious.
Mara placed a hand on the table.
“Allison, there’s something else you need to consider.”
“What?”
“If Derek had access to this warning after Thomas died, he knew Thomas intended to restrict him.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of backing away, he formed Alder Row.”
Owen nodded.
“Seven months later.”
Camille whispered, “Before he and I…”
“Before the affair,” Allison finished.
That mattered.
Derek had not begun stealing because he fell for Camille.
The financial scheme came first.
Camille had become useful later.
Her resentment.
Her failing company.
Her notary commission.
Her access to Allison.
Allison looked at her sister.
For the first time, Camille seemed to understand it too.
“He chose me,” Camille whispered.
Allison’s expression hardened.
“Yes.”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“Not because he loved me.”
Allison stood.
“Don’t expect me to comfort you about that.”
“I don’t.”
Owen’s phone chimed.
He opened a new report.
Then looked at Allison.
“We traced the first Alder Row transfer.”
“To where?”
“Not Camille.”
Allison waited.
May you like
Owen turned the screen.
“Derek’s private brokerage account.”
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