Chapter 12 - THE MAN AT THE SIDE DOORJulian Mercer did not answer calls.
His office claimed he was traveling.
His attorney sent a letter instructing the Holloways not to contact him directly.
Everett smiled when he read it.
“Good.”
Preston frowned.
“Good?”
“Lawyers mean people are afraid.”
Everett’s own attorney, Dana Whitmore, was less amused.
“Do not confuse fear with guilt.”
“I don’t.”
“You occasionally do.”
Everett looked at her.
Dana had represented him for twenty-six years and possessed the rare ability to insult him without losing his trust.
She continued.
“We now have separate issues.”
She raised one finger.
“Unauthorized company transfers.”
Second finger.
“Potential fraud in reimbursement records.”
Third.
“Possible manipulation of corporate governance documents.”
Fourth.
“Possible interference with medication.”
Fifth.
“Potential theft or unauthorized access to trust records.”
Everett nodded.
“And the affair.”
Dana lowered her hand.
“The affair is morally relevant. Not necessarily legally relevant.”
“It may explain motive.”
“Yes.”
Preston sat across from them.
He looked exhausted.
Dana turned to him.
“You need to understand something. Cooperating with your father does not erase your own exposure.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You authorized transfers you did not have authority to make.”
“Yes.”
“You submitted inaccurate documentation.”
“Yes.”
“You participated in preparing documents intended to increase your control.”
Preston’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Dana leaned back.
“Then stop behaving like a victim.”
Everett almost smiled.
Preston did not.
“I know what I did.”
“Good. Because if you minimize it, everyone else will use that weakness.”
After the meeting, Preston asked Everett to stay.
“There’s something I didn’t tell Dana.”
Everett’s face hardened.
“What now?”
Preston swallowed.
“Julian told me we could solve Blue Heron by acquiring additional voting control.”
“Your voting control.”
“Yours.”
Everett stared.
“He said if I could vote your shares temporarily, lenders would extend.”
“Why?”
“Because Holloway’s balance sheet would support a larger restructuring.”
“You planned to leverage my company to save your private mistake.”
Preston looked sick.
“Yes.”
Everett turned away.
“I thought the authority would last ninety days.”
“You thought.”
“I thought I’d fix everything and give it back.”
Everett faced him.
“You were willing to risk hundreds of employees and millions in family assets to avoid telling me you failed.”
Preston said nothing.
Everett’s anger rose.
But Preston continued.
“Celia pushed harder.”
“What did she want?”
“She said ninety days wasn’t enough.”
Everett’s eyes narrowed.
“She wanted permanent control?”
“She said I deserved a transition.”
“Of course she did.”
Preston looked at the floor.
“She told me you were never going to let go.”
“That part may be true.”
Preston gave a bitter laugh.
Everett continued.
“But that doesn’t give you permission to steal control.”
“No.”
“Did Julian propose the capacity review?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Preston rubbed his forehead.
“Celia was the one who first said lenders might need proof you could no longer manage day-to-day decisions.”
Everett’s pulse increased.
“Before or after Blue Heron got into trouble?”
“After.”
“Did she tell you to document my mistakes?”
Preston looked up.
Everett knew.
“Yes.”
“What mistakes?”
“She said we should keep notes.”
Everett went cold.
“Of my behavior.”
“Yes.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“Me. Mom. Celia.”
“Did Lorraine agree?”
“Not really.”
“What does that mean?”
“She wrote down a few things, then stopped.”
Everett thought of keys in the refrigerator.
Forgotten appointments.
Repeated questions.
“How many of those incidents did Celia witness?”
Preston’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
That evening, Samuel called with another discovery.
Julian and Celia had leased a storage unit together.
Not romantically.
Financially.
Under a shell company.
Everett and Dana obtained records through lawful channels.
The unit contained boxes.
Not family items.
Business documents.
Copies of Holloway trust materials.
Printouts of shareholder agreements.
Draft sale proposals for two valuable Holloway properties.
One document had a heading:
POST-TRANSITION ASSET DISPOSITION PLAN.
Everett read it.
The plan assumed Preston would control Everett’s shares.
It proposed selling two assets.
One sale would generate enough cash to rescue Blue Heron.
Another would generate a large advisory fee.
Paid to Mercer Restructuring.
Everett looked at Preston.
“You were going to sell these?”
His son stared.
“No.”
“Your name is on the plan.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
Dana looked at the metadata.
“Draft created on Celia’s laptop.”
Preston stopped breathing.
Everett read further.
At the bottom of the page, in a comment bubble, Celia had written:
Once Everett is out, this becomes much easier.
Preston sat down hard.
No one spoke.
The phrase from Onyx echoed in Everett’s memory.
Get rid of old Everett today.
For the first time, the wording no longer sounded ambiguous.
Not death.
Not necessarily.
Removal.
May you like
Control.
And someone had planned it carefully.
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