Chapter 2 - The Facade
The hardest thing I have ever had to do was smile at my son the next morning.
Margaret and I sat at the breakfast table. She was wearing a long-sleeved silk blouse to hide the massive, dark purple bruise blooming on her shoulder. She looked fragile, her eyes darting toward the door every time a floorboard creaked.
“Margaret, my love,” I said gently, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I know everything. About Thanksgiving. About New Year's.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked down in shame. “Arthur, I didn't want to ruin the family—”
“They ruined the family, Margaret,” I interrupted softly. “Not you. And it ends today. But I need you to trust me. I need you to be strong for just a little while longer.”
At 9:00 AM, my phone buzzed. It was Marcus.
“Hey, Dad,” he said, his voice entirely too casual for a man whose wife had just assaulted his mother. “Look, about last night… Chloe feels terrible. She wants to send Mom some flowers. Are we still on for the transfer meeting on Friday?”
Friday was the day I was scheduled to officially sign over 51% of the voting shares of the company to Marcus.
I took a deep breath, channeling thirty years of cutthroat corporate negotiations.
“Of course, Marcus,” I lied smoothly. “In fact, let’s move the meeting up to tomorrow afternoon. Have Chloe bring the final financial ledgers for the quarter. We’ll do it in the main boardroom. Make it an official passing of the torch.”
May you like
“Really?” Marcus couldn't hide the greedy excitement in his voice. “That’s great, Dad. We’ll be there. One o’clock.”
I hung up the phone. In the guest wing of my house, Thomas and three forensic accountants were already tearing through the encrypted data on the USB drive. We were building an ironclad cage, and Marcus was walking right in, smiling.
