Chapter 4 - Thirty-Two PercentThe following morning, I sat across from my attorney in a room overlooking Boston Harbor.
Evelyn Chen was sixty-one, meticulous, and almost impossible to intimidate.
She had represented my family for fifteen years.
She had also been Amelia's closest professional confidante.
When I finished telling her what happened at the clinic, Evelyn closed her eyes.
"You struck him?"
"Yes."
"After he put Sophie down?"
"Yes."
"And he didn't threaten you?"
"No."
"Daniel."
She removed her glasses.
"Do you understand how serious that is?"
I stared at the table.
"I do now."
"Your intentions won't erase the assault. Neither will the fact that you were frightened."
"I know."
"Then you need independent criminal counsel, and you should not contact Mr. Hale about legal claims without advice."
I nodded.
She studied me.
"Why are you here instead of meeting a criminal defense attorney?"
"Because Caroline lied."
I told her everything Sophie had said.
I described Caroline's phone conversation.
And I mentioned Adrian Voss.
At his name, Evelyn's expression changed.
"That makes this considerably more complicated."
She opened a cabinet and removed a blue binder.
On its spine was written:
HARBOR POINT CARE PARTNERS, LLC — OPERATING AGREEMENT.
I recognized it immediately.
My company, Mercer Development Group, controlled numerous properties across New England. Harbor Point Care Partners was separate: a closely held company that owned the medical campus and leased its buildings to the independently operated children's clinic.
It had been Amelia's favorite project.
She believed wealthy families should help build places where children received care regardless of what their parents could afford.
When she died, she left her ownership interest to Sophie through an irrevocable trust.
Evelyn opened the agreement.
"Remind me of the ownership percentages."
I frowned.
"Forty percent held by me. Thirty-two in Sophie's trust. Twenty-eight by Harbor Equity."
"And who controls the voting rights attached to Sophie's trust?"
"Caroline, as trustee."
"Correct."
Evelyn turned a page.
"And who controls Harbor Equity?"
"Adrian Voss."
She waited.
I looked at the three numbers.
Forty.
Thirty-two.
Twenty-eight.
Caroline and Adrian together controlled sixty percent.
"They can remove me as managing director," I said quietly.
"Depending on the board and management provisions, they may have the votes. But removing you and disposing of the campus are different matters."
I knew the next part.
"Seventy percent is required to approve a sale."
"Exactly."
Evelyn folded her hands.
"Without your consent, Caroline and Adrian cannot authorize the proposed sale of the entire campus under this agreement."
I stared at the binder.
For eight months, Adrian had been trying to convince me to sell Harbor Point to Seabright Acquisitions for twenty-six million dollars.
The most recent independent appraisal valued the property at approximately thirty-nine million.
He insisted that rising renovation costs and refinancing risks justified the discount.
I didn't agree.
And I'd refused to sign.
"You're saying this could be about the sale?"
"I'm saying someone deliberately placed your child near a man who had reason to question the clinic's spending. Then that same person made an accusation that prompted you to assault him."
She leaned toward me.
"That incident could discredit Victor Hale and give someone leverage over you. Both outcomes benefit Adrian."
My stomach turned.
"Caroline wouldn't use Sophie like that."
Evelyn looked at me for a long moment.
"Daniel, you came here because you think she already did."
I couldn't argue.
She slid another document across the desk.
It was a copy of Amelia's estate instructions.
I recognized her handwriting in the margin.
Caroline knows Sophie's needs. I trust her to protect my daughter when I can't.
My throat tightened.
"Amelia trusted her."
"So did I," Evelyn said.
I looked up.
She spoke carefully.
"Caroline's financial disclosure for the trust has become increasingly difficult to obtain. For several months, I've been requesting updated statements regarding the voting shares and related-party transactions."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I had no proof of a violation. And as Sophie's father, you are not automatically entitled to every confidential trust document."
"Caroline is her trustee. Surely that makes me—"
"It makes you a concerned parent, Daniel. Not a substitute trustee."
She paused.
"However, there may now be grounds to request judicial review."
I sat back.
The possibility of a court examining Amelia's trust felt like breaking into a room she had carefully locked before she died.
Evelyn saw my hesitation.
"Protecting her wishes sometimes means questioning the people she trusted."
I looked out at the harbor.
When Amelia was dying, she had asked me to watch over Caroline.
Not financially.
Emotionally.
Her sister had sacrificed years caring for their mother and then for Amelia.
Caroline had never married, never had children, and often spoke about how much of herself she had given to the family.
Amelia worried that she had nothing left that belonged solely to her.
I had promised to help.
Had that promise blinded me?
My phone vibrated.
A message from Caroline.
Please don't let strangers destroy our family. Amelia would be heartbroken.
A second message arrived.
Adrian wants to meet about the clinic. He's trying to help.
I handed the phone to Evelyn.
She read both messages without comment.
Then she opened her laptop and searched for Seabright Acquisitions.
A corporate filing appeared.
She frowned.
"That's interesting."
"What?"
"Seabright's registered agent changed three months ago."
"To whom?"
She turned the screen toward me.
The new agent was a law firm called Pierce & Cade.
Evelyn's expression hardened.
"That firm also represents Cedar Run Works."
"The renovation contractor?"
"Yes."
I stared at the screen.
A property buyer.
A contractor accused of billing for work that hadn't happened.
The same law firm.
And possibly the same man pulling the strings.
Then Evelyn clicked into the filing history.
"Daniel, there's something worse."
A document dated six weeks earlier appeared.
It was a proposed consent authorizing the sale of Harbor Point.
At the bottom, beneath the signature of Caroline Grant, was another name.
Mine.
May you like
Beside it was a signature that looked almost exactly like my own.
Except I had never signed that document.
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