Chapter 7 - Grant Discovered He Wasn’t the Heir He Thought He WasGrant arrived at Celeste's hotel wearing yesterday's tuxedo under a winter coat.
He looked terrible.
Celeste let him in only because Marcus Hale was already there.
Grant noticed Marcus.
"You don't trust me?"
Celeste closed the door.
"No."
"At least you're consistent."
He placed a laptop on the table.
"I'm technically not supposed to have this."
Marcus looked interested.
"Then I definitely want to see it."
Grant logged into Whitmore Global's internal financial system.
His access was extensive.
Not as extensive as he believed.
He opened a series of transfers.
Three accounts.
$4.2 million moved overnight.
Two transfers went to corporate legal entities.
The third went into an offshore holding company.
Marcus leaned closer.
"Who authorized this?"
Grant pointed.
"Arthur Whitmore."
"Purpose?"
"No explanation."
Celeste looked at the account carrying Grant's name.
"Strategic Reserve."
Grant nodded.
"I thought Dad had created some investment vehicle for me."
"Why?"
"Because he told me the company would be mine."
Celeste looked at him.
"He told you that?"
"Since I was sixteen."
"Did he put it in writing?"
Grant's face hardened.
"You sound like Samuel."
"That's probably useful."
Marcus opened historical records.
The account had existed for twelve years.
Millions moved through it.
Grant stared.
"I never approved any of this."
Marcus stopped.
"That's a problem."
"For Dad?"
"For you."
Grant went pale.
"What?"
"The entity is registered with you as beneficial controller."
"I didn't register it."
"Your signature appears on several filings."
Grant stared at the screen.
"That's not my signature."
Celeste looked closer.
It was convincing.
But Grant was right.
The G in his name was wrong.
He'd always made it almost circular.
This one had a sharp angle.
Arthur had forged his son's name.
Grant sat down.
For years, he'd strutted around the mansion believing he was being prepared to inherit an empire.
Arthur had been preparing something else.
A shield.
"If regulators ever examined these transfers," Marcus said, "the documents point toward you."
Grant looked sick.
Celeste felt no satisfaction.
That surprised her.
Grant had laughed when Victoria exposed her scars.
He had called her the family disgrace.
Yet watching him realize his father had quietly turned him into a liability didn't feel like victory.
It felt familiar.
Arthur used everyone.
The methods changed.
That was all.
Grant looked at Celeste.
"Did you know?"
"No."
"Would you tell me if you did?"
"Yes."
He laughed bitterly.
"Why?"
"Because I don't need you destroyed to prove Dad is wrong."
Grant stared at her.
That sentence did more damage than cruelty would have.
His phone rang.
Victoria.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
Celeste said, "Answer."
Grant did.
"What?"
Victoria shouted loudly enough for both of them to hear.
"Where are you?"
"Busy."
"With her?"
Grant looked at Celeste.
"Yes."
"You idiot."
"Good morning to you too."
"Dad says she's trying to turn you."
Grant looked at the forged signatures.
"Maybe Dad should worry about what he's been turning me into."
Silence.
Then Victoria asked, "What does that mean?"
Grant ended the call.
Marcus copied the files.
"Don't access these again from your personal credentials."
Grant nodded.
For once, he didn't argue.
Celeste poured him coffee.
He stared at it.
"You remember how I take it?"
"Unfortunately."
A little milk.
No sugar.
Grant drank.
Then his eyes moved to her shoulder.
The scars disappeared beneath her shirt.
He looked away quickly.
"Victoria shouldn't have done that."
"No."
"I shouldn't have laughed."
"No."
"I'm not apologizing yet."
Celeste almost smiled.
"Then don't."
Grant frowned.
"You could make this easier."
"For you?"
"Yes."
"That hasn't historically been my job."
He actually laughed.
A short, broken sound.
Then Marcus turned the laptop toward them.
"I found something else."
One of the offshore transfers had a recipient.
V. WHITMORE CONSULTING.
Grant stared.
"Victoria."
Celeste's expression changed.
May you like
Grant whispered:
"She knows."
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