Chapter 10 - The Boardroom Ambush
My mother had been alive for eight years.
I had been married for less than eight hours.
Somehow the marriage was easier to process.
Anna Mercer sat across from me inside a secure Reed Global safe house outside Las Vegas while Emma refused to release her hand.
I wasn’t ready to touch her yet.
That hurt.
But so did looking at her.
She looked older.
Of course she did.
Eight years had passed.
Her hair had silver in it.
There were lines beside her eyes I didn’t remember.
I had lost those years.
So had she.
“Start at the beginning,” I said.
Anna nodded.
“Harrison Reed created offshore reserves during Reed Global’s early expansion.”
“How?”
“Shell companies, bearer structures, trusts. Some legal. Some questionable. Some illegal.”
Graham stood near the window.
“My grandfather stole from the company?”
“Not exactly.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“He hid profits before Reed Global went public.”
“So from tax authorities.”
“And later shareholders.”
Graham looked disgusted.
Anna continued.
“Richard discovered the accounts years later. He wanted them disclosed.”
“Conrad didn’t.”
“No.”
“And Leonard?”
“He wanted them.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed the money belonged to the people who built Reed Global, not shareholders.”
“That sounds ideological.”
“It was.”
“Was?”
Anna’s expression hardened.
“Then he became rich.”
Of course.
Revolutionaries apparently became less philosophical around billions.
“Where did Leonard come from?” I asked.
“He worked with Harrison’s private accountants.”
“He’s that old?”
“He was young then.”
Graham turned.
“Why did my father hire him as CFO?”
“He didn’t know.”
“Richard investigated everyone.”
“Leonard had buried his history.”
Anna looked toward me.
“He also knew about you.”
“When?”
“From childhood.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because I built the fourth safeguard.”
“You made me your successor.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“To protect you.”
I laughed once.
She flinched.
Good.
I wanted her to understand the cost of those words.
Graham watched silently.
Anna looked at him.
“Richard made the same mistakes.”
His face hardened.
“What mistakes?”
“Thinking secrecy was protection.”
The words landed.
Hard.
Because Graham had spent the entire morning doing exactly that.
Trying to lock me away from danger.
Trying to decide what I could handle.
His gaze shifted toward me.
He understood too.
I looked back at my mother.
“How did Leonard arrange my job?”
“He influenced the recruiting firm.”
“He put me at Reed Global on purpose?”
“He wanted you near the trust.”
“But I started in procurement analytics.”
“He waited.”
“For what?”
“For Graham to trust you.”
Silence.
I glanced toward Graham.
Three years.
Long nights.
Deals.
Arguments.
Promotion after promotion.
Had Leonard expected us to fall in love?
No.
That would be ridiculous.
Yet he had wanted proximity.
“He moved me into acquisitions.”
“Yes.”
“Because that’s where the audit flag would appear.”
“Yes.”
“So he needed me to find Richard’s files.”
“Yes.”
“And then steal them?”
“Or open the system for him.”
I sat back.
My career was mine.
I knew that.
My work.
My promotions.
My choices.
But someone had nudged the first domino.
I hated that.
My phone buzzed.
Caroline.
Graham answered.
“We have a problem.”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently those are the only kind we have today.”
Caroline continued.
“The board voted.”
Graham’s expression hardened.
“And?”
“Six to five.”
My stomach dropped.
“You’re suspended.”
Silence.
For the first time in his adult life, Graham Reed was no longer CEO of Reed Global.
“Who is acting chair?”
“Leonard.”
Anna stood.
“No.”
Graham frowned.
“What?”
“That’s what he needed.”
“Operational control?”
“Yes.”
“He already has access to company systems.”
“Not the legacy transfer gateway.”
“Why would CEO authority matter there?”
“Because Harrison linked the first key to the active corporate chair.”
Graham went still.
“Not controlling heir?”
Anna shook her head.
“Harrison never trusted heirs alone.”
“So by suspending me—”
“Leonard obtained the first authorization.”
Everyone understood simultaneously.
“He doesn’t need Graham anymore,” I whispered.
Anna nodded.
“He needs Conrad.”
“And me.”
“Yes.”
Leonard had orchestrated Graham’s suspension.
The board thought they were protecting the company.
Instead they had handed him one of the keys.
“Can the vote be reversed?” I asked.
Caroline answered through the phone.
“Yes, but not quickly.”
“How quickly?”
“Tomorrow.”
Midnight was twelve hours away.
Too late.
“We need Conrad.”
Marcus entered.
“We may have him.”
Graham turned.
“What?”
“His implanted medical monitor pinged a cellular tower.”
Conrad had a pacemaker.
For once, billionaire healthcare paranoia was useful.
“Where?”
“Outside Henderson.”
Anna’s expression changed.
“Old Argent facility.”
“You know it?”
“Yes.”
Graham picked up his jacket.
I stood.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“You’re about to do exactly what you told me not to do.”
“This is different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Conrad is my uncle.”
“And Emma is my sister.”
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
I almost smiled.
“Annoying, isn’t it?”
“Extremely.”
“We go together.”
“No.”
“Graham.”
“I am beginning to hate hearing my name in that tone.”
“Good.”
Anna watched us.
Something almost amused appeared in her face.
I noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
She smiled faintly.
“You really are my daughter.”
That nearly broke me.
I looked away.
We reached the Argent facility at 3:15 p.m.
It looked abandoned.
Low concrete building.
Fenced yard.
No visible security.
Marcus’s team moved first.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then radio.
“Clear.”
Inside, we found Conrad.
Tied to a chair.
Alive.
Furious.
“About time.”
Graham stared at him.
“You’re welcome.”
“Untie me.”
“Say please.”
Conrad glared.
Even I almost laughed.
Marcus freed him.
“What happened?”
“Leonard.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“And still worked with him.”
“I thought I could control him.”
Graham looked almost offended by the stupidity.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve known him thirty years.”
Anna stepped inside.
Conrad stopped breathing.
“You.”
“Hello, Conrad.”
He looked terrified.
Not guilty.
Terrified.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“He said you were dead.”
“Leonard says many useful things.”
Conrad sat heavily.
“I never knew.”
“About what?”
“He killed Elizabeth.”
Thomas’s mother.
The room froze.
Conrad covered his face.
“He told me today.”
Graham whispered, “Why?”
“She found the accounts.”
Anna’s eyes closed.
Conrad continued.
“I thought cancer took her.”
“So did Thomas,” Graham said.
Conrad looked broken.
“Leonard had access to her medication.”
My stomach turned.
We did not need details.
The cruelty was enough.
“He took you today to get your key?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you give it?”
Conrad shook his head.
“No.”
Relief.
Then he looked at his hand.
A fresh bandage wrapped one finger.
Anna’s face changed.
“Biometric.”
Conrad stared.
“What?”
“He doesn’t need your cooperation.”
She stepped closer.
“He only needed a live tissue sample.”
My stomach dropped.
“Can that work?”
“With Harrison’s old system? Possibly.”
Graham swore.
Leonard already had the second key.
And as acting chair, the first.
He only needed me.
Marcus’s radio crackled.
Then cut.
Every light went out.
Darkness.
A second later emergency lamps flickered on.
A speaker activated overhead.
Leonard’s voice.
“Thank you for finding Conrad for me.”
My blood froze.
We had been followed.
Or watched.
Again.
“Where are you?” Graham shouted.
Leonard ignored him.
“Avery.”
My mother grabbed my hand.
This time, I let her.
“Midnight moved up.”
Anna whispered, “Impossible.”
Leonard continued.
“As acting chair, I accelerated the transfer window.”
Graham’s face hardened.
“To when?”
A digital clock appeared on the far wall.
02:00:00
Two hours.
Then another screen turned on.
Emma appeared.
This time she was not in her apartment.
She was seated inside an unfamiliar room.
Her hands were tied in front of her.
My mother screamed.
I stopped breathing.
The screen showed Emma looking directly into the camera.
“Avery, don’t come.”
Leonard’s voice returned.
“Two hours, Mrs. Reed.”
Then he laughed softly.
“Bring the ring.”
The screen went black.
And I finally understood the price of becoming Graham Reed’s wife.
It wasn’t money.
It wasn’t scandal.
It wasn’t losing my career.
May you like
It was that the enemy now knew exactly whose life could make me surrender.
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