Chapter 10 - The Chair Michael Left Empty
Sarah entered the Mercer Development boardroom at 8:57 the next morning.
No one had invited her.
David walked beside her carrying a leather case and a notice asserting Sarah’s authority as special trustee for Mia’s inherited interests.
Evelyn sat at the head of the table.
Jonathan occupied the chair to her right.
Six directors looked between them.
A framed photograph of Michael’s grandfather hung on the far wall.
One empty chair stood near the middle.
Michael’s old chair.
Sarah had not known they still left it there.
Evelyn’s expression hardened.
“This is a private board meeting.”
David placed the notice on the table.
“Not anymore.”
Corporate counsel, a woman named Laura Chen, immediately asked for ten minutes to review the documents.
Evelyn stood.
“Sarah has no voting authority.”
“Then ten minutes won’t hurt you,” Sarah said.
Jonathan watched without speaking.
Laura read the trust amendment twice.
“The schedule is missing.”
David nodded.
“We’re aware.”
“Without Schedule A, I cannot determine whether the voting units are included.”
Sarah placed the blue fragment recovered from the maintenance log into a protective sleeve on the table.
Evelyn stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“The room where you locked Mia.”
A director inhaled sharply.
Evelyn’s voice dropped.
“Do not turn a family misunderstanding into a corporate spectacle.”
“A sheriff’s detective is doing that for me.”
Jonathan intervened.
“Laura, proceed with the scheduled agenda. Sarah can observe under reservation.”
David leaned toward Sarah.
“Take it.”
She wanted to object.
Instead she sat.
The meeting began.
Financial reports.
Project updates.
Crescent Point appeared on page seventeen.
Cost overruns: 18.4 million.
Outstanding credit support: 12 million.
Projected capital requirement: additional 9.7 million.
Sarah looked at Jonathan.
“You said the Riverbend sale would stabilize the company.”
“It would.”
“For how long?”
Evelyn struck the table once.
“You do not have the floor.”
Sarah turned toward the other directors.
“How many of you knew Crescent Point needed another ten million?”
Two looked away.
One frowned at the packet as if seeing the number for the first time.
Laura stopped the meeting.
“Jonathan, was that figure circulated previously?”
“It was included in the finance committee update.”
Director Henry Wallace shook his head.
“No, it wasn’t.”
Jonathan looked toward him.
“It was.”
Henry pushed his binder forward.
“Show me.”
No one did.
The room changed.
Sarah felt it.
Agenda item four arrived.
Riverbend.
Jonathan presented the offer.
Forty-one million cash, subject to closing adjustments.
Evelyn moved for approval.
Henry did not second.
Another director, Patricia Sloan, asked, “Where is the independent valuation?”
Jonathan replied, “Attached.”
“That appraisal is eleven months old.”
“It remains within range.”
Patricia looked at Sarah.
“What exactly did Michael say about Riverbend?”
Sarah hesitated.
Then read from the note.
“Do not let my mother sell Riverbend until you see the 2024 board records.”
The words landed differently in that room.
Evelyn’s face became still.
Jonathan’s hand stopped moving.
Henry leaned forward.
“What board records?”
David distributed the two versions of the April minutes.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Then Henry said, “I was at this meeting.”
Sarah watched him.
He pointed at the official copy.
“I did not vote yes.”
Jonathan said, “Henry—”
“I voted to table it.”
Evelyn looked at him.
“You later agreed.”
“To reconsider. Not to falsify minutes.”
Laura closed her folder.
“No vote on Riverbend is happening today.”
Evelyn’s composure cracked.
“We have a financing deadline.”
“Then we call the lender,” Laura said.
“You don’t understand the consequence.”
“I understand altered corporate records.”
Evelyn stood.
Sarah expected her to leave.
Instead Evelyn looked directly at her.
“You think Michael was trying to expose us?”
Sarah said nothing.
Evelyn gave a bitter, exhausted laugh.
“He helped create Crescent Point.”
“I know.”
“He signed the first guarantee.”
“I know.”
“He authorized money before Jonathan ever altered those minutes.”
Sarah held her gaze.
“Then why was he trying to stop you later?”
Evelyn’s face tightened.
“Because Michael changed sides when he realized the truth would cost him more than the lie.”
“What truth?”
Jonathan said sharply, “Evelyn.”
She ignored him.
“You want your dead husband to be the hero so badly.”
Sarah stood.
“I want facts.”
“Then start with this one.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
“Michael knew exactly what I did.”
May you like
Sarah waited.
“And at the beginning,” Evelyn said, “he helped me do it.”
