Chapter 9 - WHAT SLOANE WAS REALLY WAITING FORThe Carlisle family’s wealth was real.
The problem was that much of it no longer belonged to them.
Cassandra Carlisle still hosted charity luncheons at Rosehill Manor.
Edward Carlisle still belonged to three private clubs.
Sloane still grew up skiing in Aspen and spending summers in Nantucket.
But beneath the appearance of permanence sat debt.
A lot of it.
Edward had invested heavily in a mixed-use luxury development outside Nashville.
The project stalled.
Construction costs rose.
Two major tenants withdrew.
A refinancing agreement failed.
By the time Sloane became engaged to Blake, the Carlisle family was not bankrupt.
But they were dangerously leveraged.
Harrison learned this from no private investigator.
No secret spying.
Simply from public filings and business networks after one question made him curious.
Why had Cassandra written:
Once Blake has the shares, everything changes?
His finance director answered two days later.
“Carlisle Development has substantial exposure.”
“How substantial?”
“Enough that another weak quarter becomes uncomfortable.”
“Would Mercer Holdings be a natural partner?”
“Potentially.”
Harrison looked toward the window.
Interesting.
Meanwhile, Sloane and Blake were supposed to be honeymooning in St. Barts.
They lasted four days.
On the fifth evening, Blake sat on the balcony of their resort suite staring at his phone.
Sloane emerged from the bedroom.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Checking your email.”
“I’m working.”
“We’re on our honeymoon.”
“My father canceled three meetings.”
“With you?”
“With everyone involved in my transition.”
Sloane stopped.
“What transition?”
Blake looked at her.
“The voting transfer.”
“You said that was signed.”
“I said it was happening.”
“You said after the wedding.”
“It was supposed to.”
Sloane’s expression changed.
“When?”
“The reception.”
“What?”
“He had the papers.”
“You saw them?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He put them away.”
Sloane stared.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Because we were getting married.”
“We were already married.”
“Exactly.”
Her voice rose.
“Blake, eight percent of Mercer Holdings is not something you forget to mention.”
“I didn’t forget.”
“Then what happened?”
He looked away.
Sloane’s eyes narrowed.
“Your mother.”
“Don’t.”
“She told him.”
“I said don’t.”
“She ran straight to your father.”
Blake remembered Harrison’s question.
And the red mark on your mother’s face?
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
Sloane began pacing.
“This is exactly what she wanted.”
Blake’s jaw tightened.
“She got slapped and pushed into a wall, Sloane.”
The words surprised him.
It was the first time he had stated the events without disguising them as misunderstanding.
Sloane stopped.
“You pushed her.”
“I know.”
“Because she wouldn’t stop.”
Blake looked at his wife.
Something shifted.
Not enough.
But something.
“You slapped her.”
“She came at me.”
“No, she didn’t.”
Sloane stared.
“You weren’t there.”
“I was close enough.”
Silence.
“So now you’re taking her side?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“It sounds like it.”
Blake stood.
“I’m saying Dad saw something.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Sloane’s face went pale.
Then, very quietly:
“The camera.”
Blake frowned.
“What camera?”
Sloane didn’t answer.
But he saw it.
Recognition.
Fear.
His stomach tightened.
“What camera?”
“There was one in the hallway.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw it earlier.”
Blake stared.
“You knew?”
“It’s a hotel. There are cameras everywhere.”
“No. You knew that specific camera was there.”
Sloane crossed her arms.
“So?”
“So why did you look for it?”
She turned toward the ocean.
Blake felt the first real crack open beneath his marriage.
Not because his wife had wanted money.
He had always known Sloane valued wealth.
May you like
So did he.
The crack came because she was afraid of something he did not yet understand.
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