Chapter 12 - The Investor Who Thought He Owned Me
Charles Ashcroft requested a private meeting at eleven the next morning.
Rebecca advised that we hear him out with counsel present.
I agreed.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I wanted to understand exactly what Adrian had promised.
Charles arrived with two attorneys and a polished leather portfolio.
He looked irritated before he even sat down.
"Mrs. Vance, last night's interruption was unfortunate."
"Which interruption?"
He gave me a tight smile.
"The public discussion of a confidential transaction."
"There was no approved transaction."
"Negotiations had reached an advanced stage."
"Without my approval."
Charles looked at his attorneys.
One of them opened a folder.
"We understand that Mrs. Vance may have concerns about operational structure."
Rebecca interrupted.
"My client has concerns about the accuracy of representations made to potential investors."
Charles leaned back.
"Let's not turn this into a confrontation."
"Then please explain what you believed you were purchasing," I said.
He studied me.
"Management rights. Certain future revenue interests. An opportunity to participate in the hotel's next phase of development."
"From whom?"
"Meridian Hospitality Partners."
"And who represented that Meridian possessed those rights?"
"Adrian Whitmore."
"Did he provide documentation?"
"Naturally."
Rebecca slid a photocopy across the table.
"Was it this document?"
Charles examined it.
"Yes."
I watched his face.
"This is the agreement carrying Daniel Vance's signature."
"Correct."
"Did Adrian tell you when Daniel signed it?"
Charles frowned.
"Approximately eleven years ago."
"And did he explain that the original authorization expired after twelve months?"
Silence.
One of Charles's attorneys leaned forward.
"What original authorization?"
Rebecca placed a second document beside the first.
The attorney began comparing them.
His expression changed.
Charles looked between us.
"Are you alleging forgery?"
"We're asking for an independent examination of the source documents," Rebecca replied. "The signed page appears to have been used in support of materially different terms."
Charles turned red.
"Adrian assured us the documentation had been verified."
"By whom?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
I leaned forward.
"Charles, you have a reputation for purchasing valuable businesses. I'm sure you understand the importance of verified ownership rights."
He stared at me.
"Mrs. Vance, perhaps we can negotiate directly."
"About what?"
"Your personal interest in the hotel."
I almost smiled.
"My personal interest?"
"A premium valuation could make this arrangement beneficial for everyone."
"Everyone?"
"Your family. Your daughter."
My expression hardened.
"Please don't use Lily as a bargaining point."
Charles spread his hands.
"I'm discussing financial security."
"My daughter is financially secure. What concerns me is the financial security of employees whose wages may have been mishandled."
He sighed.
"With respect, running a luxury hotel requires hard decisions."
"Of course."
"Sometimes sentiment interferes with profitability."
I looked at the original photograph of Daniel and me hanging on the conference-room wall.
"Do you know why the Vance Grand became profitable?"
Charles waited.
"Because guests returned. And they returned because our employees cared about them."
He shifted impatiently.
"That's admirable, but—"
"Because Robert remembered anniversaries. Because Henry made special meals for children with food allergies. Because Lupita noticed when guests needed help before they asked."
I turned back toward him.
"Those people didn't interfere with profitability. They created it."
Rebecca closed her folder.
"At present, my client does not consent to the proposed restructuring. We will respond formally to any legitimate claims or contractual questions."
Charles stood.
"This will create complications."
"Then we will address them lawfully."
He paused near the door.
"Adrian told me you were a ceremonial owner."
I met his eyes.
"Then perhaps you should have spoken to me before investing in his story."
After Charles left, Rebecca allowed herself a small smile.
"That went reasonably well."
"He looked like he swallowed a lemon."
"A very expensive lemon."
But our relief was short-lived.
At one-thirty, a local business publication posted an article about the gala.
The headline read:
VANCE GRAND FACES LEADERSHIP TURMOIL AFTER OWNER INTERRUPTS ANNIVERSARY EVENT.
It quoted unnamed sources describing me as emotionally unstable, inexperienced in daily operations, and resistant to a valuable modernization opportunity.
I read it twice.
Adrian was moving from concealment to public pressure.
Within an hour, two more outlets repeated the allegations.
Then my phone rang.
It was Lily's elementary-school principal.
"Mrs. Vance, I'm sorry to bother you, but someone has contacted the school requesting information about Lily's attendance and family circumstances."
My entire body stiffened.
"Who?"
"They claimed to represent a media organization."
I closed my eyes.
"Please release nothing."
"Of course. I wanted you to know."
After ending the call, I turned toward Rebecca.
"Adrian is involving my daughter."
Rebecca's expression became cold.
"Then every relevant communication gets documented."
That evening, I found Lily sitting on the carpet drawing another picture of the hotel.
This time, she had added a small woman pushing a housekeeping cart.
"Who's that?"
"Miss Lupita."
"And what's she doing?"
"Helping."
I sat beside her.
Lily looked up.
"Mommy, are rich people allowed to be mean?"
"No."
"Even if they own lots of things?"
"Even then."
She considered my answer.
Then she drew a large red heart above Lupita's head.
"Good."
I kissed her forehead.
And at that moment, I received a new message from the anonymous number.
May you like
Ashcroft wasn't the first buyer.
Look at Northbridge's records from the year Daniel died.
