Chapter 3 - The Missing Stones
I read the sentence three times.
"The missing stones?"
Ruth nodded.
"Seventeen years ago, your father made a terrible mistake."
"What kind of mistake?"
She looked toward the door.
"Your mother never wanted you to find out like this."
"My mother isn't here anymore."
I hated how harshly the words came out.
Ruth flinched.
But she didn't argue.
In the spring of 2009, Vale Atelier had received a collection of rare sapphires from a private client.
They were meant to be set into six custom necklaces.
My father had been responsible for securing the stones.
Instead, he had secretly used several as collateral for a personal loan.
I shook my head.
"That doesn't sound like Dad."
"You were twelve."
"He taught me never to touch something that belonged to a customer."
"He knew what was right. He didn't always do it."
The loan had been a desperate attempt to cover debts he had concealed from my mother.
When the lender demanded repayment, Martin panicked.
He promised Louise he could recover the stones.
Two weeks later, his small fishing boat was found damaged and abandoned near a river landing after a violent storm.
My father's coat had been caught beneath a broken seat.
Search teams looked for him.
They never found a body.
Several years later, a court declared him legally dead.
My mother had quietly replaced the missing sapphires using nearly everything she had saved.
She protected the customers.
She protected the business.
And she protected my father's reputation.
"He abandoned us over a loan?" I whispered.
Ruth's eyes filled.
"I don't know everything that happened that night."
I looked down at the letter.
"Did Mom forgive him?"
"Not really."
"Then why send him money?"
Ruth folded her hands.
"Because she couldn't stand the thought of someone she once loved sleeping on the street."
I stared at the handwriting until the letters blurred.
My mother had been a complicated woman.
She could forgive an apprentice for ruining a setting worth thousands of dollars, then argue for three days over someone wasting a handful of silver wire.
But I'd never imagined she could carry a secret this enormous.
A knock interrupted us.
Denise stepped inside.
"Emma, we've got a problem."
She placed a printed email on the desk.
It came from Nathan's office.
The subject line read:
NOTICE OF SPECIAL SHAREHOLDER MEETING — FINAL CONFIRMATION
Beneath it was a list of agenda items.
Approval of proposed sale.
Authorization of asset transfer.
Termination of existing production agreements.
Disposition of equipment.
I read the final item twice.
"Disposition of equipment?"
Denise's jaw tightened.
"He's planning to auction off the benches and presses."
Those benches had been built to fit the people who used them.
My mother's original rolling mill stood near the back wall.
There were pencil marks beneath the worktables showing where apprentices had practiced making measurements.
To Nathan, they were assets.
To the people in that building, they were decades of work.
"Can he really do this?" Denise asked.
"Not if I can stop him."
She studied me.
"You've been saying that for months."
I deserved that.
I'd been avoiding confrontations with Nathan long before discovering the forged document.
Every time he told me the workshop needed restructuring, I'd accepted another explanation.
Every time Denise warned me about unpaid suppliers, I'd promised to look into it.
I had been so busy trying to save my marriage that I'd ignored the business my mother entrusted to me.
"You're right," I said.
Denise looked surprised.
"I should have listened. I'm here now, and I'm going to need your help."
She pulled out a chair.
"What do you need?"
"Everything Nathan has changed since Mom died. Orders, invoices, supplier agreements. Especially anything connected to the buyer."
Denise's expression darkened.
"Then you'd better talk to Iris Chen."
"Who's Iris?"
"The representative for Harrow Capital. She came yesterday with Nathan and that woman he's been bringing around."
"Celeste?"
Denise nodded.
"They told us Friday's vote was a formality."
My stomach tightened.
"They said something else," Denise continued.
"Something about you."
May you like
"What?"
"Celeste said you'd already signed away your right to object."
