“No.”
Arthur reads.
If this letter is being opened, then someone has likely tried to use my age, health, guilt, or loneliness against me. I want it known clearly: my daughter Isabella is the person I trust most to protect my legacy, my company, and the memory of her mother. Any document suggesting otherwise must be treated as suspect unless verified independently by my attorney and physician.
Your throat tightens.
Arthur continues.
I made mistakes after Eleanor died. I let grief make me weak in ways I did not understand. But Isabella is not my enemy. Anyone who says she is should be examined carefully, especially if they benefit from that lie.
The boardroom is silent.
Vivian looks like she has been slapped.
Marcus looks confused, as if the story he has been told no longer fits the room.
You look at the table because if you look at your father’s letter too long, you may break.
Maya speaks.
“Based on this, the attempted transfer of voting rights is invalid. The board will formally reject the documents. Any further attempt by Mrs. Hale or Marcus Cole to represent control of Hale Construction may result in civil and criminal action.”
Vivian stands.
“You ungrateful little parasite.”
There she is.
The mask gone.
“You lived off my husband’s guilt for years,” she spits. “You ran away and left him lonely, and now you come back pretending to be a hero?”
You meet her eyes.
