Chapter 9 - TWENTY-NINE MINUTES
Emily had twenty-nine minutes to stop her stepmother from taking legal control of a company Emily had not known she owned.
It was not enough time to be afraid properly.
Rachel was already making calls.
Matthew was reading the loan documents while walking.
Pike argued with Margaret near the bank entrance.
Emily stood still.
For five seconds, everyone moved around her.
Then she said, “Stop.”
Nobody heard.
She said it louder.
“Stop.”
The lobby went quiet.
Emily looked at Rachel.
“Can Diane do it?”
“She can try.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“If the board accepts the psychiatric order and believes you lack capacity, your proxy can be temporarily reassigned under the company bylaws.”
“To Diane.”
“If she is the designated emergency proxy.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“Dad would never make her my proxy.”
Rachel looked at Margaret.
Margaret said nothing.
Emily’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Margaret looked down.
“Your father did not.”
“Then who did?”
“You signed it.”
Emily stared at her.
“No.”
“Three years ago, after your skiing accident.”
Emily remembered.
A broken wrist.
A concussion.
Two nights in a hospital.
Diane had brought a stack of insurance and company forms.
Sign here.
Initial there.
Just boring paperwork, sweetheart.
Emily felt sick.
“I signed without reading.”
Rachel said carefully, “That matters.”
“I know it matters.”
Emily’s voice sharpened.
“It was stupid.”
Nobody rushed to excuse her.
She was grateful.
It had been stupid.
She had trusted Diane because trusting was easier than learning how the company worked.
She had spent years telling herself business bored her.
Maybe it had.
But boredom was not innocence.
Matthew closed the folder.
“We can physically get you to the boardroom in eighteen minutes.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Bad idea.”
“Why?” Emily asked.
“Because Diane wants you emotional in a room full of cameras and directors who already saw the article calling you unstable.”
Emily looked at her bruised reflection in the bank window.
“Then I won’t be emotional.”
Rachel’s expression softened slightly.
“You don’t get to order your nervous system around.”
“No.”
Emily picked up the steel box.
“But I get to decide where I stand while it misbehaves.”
Matthew looked at her for a moment.
Then he nodded.
They reached Hale Systems headquarters at 9:54.
The building rose twenty stories over the river, all glass and brushed steel.
Emily had grown up visiting it.
Her father used to let her press the elevator button for the executive floor.
She had not entered since his memorial service.
Security guards blocked the lobby turnstiles.
The head guard, Tom Reeves, looked miserable.
“Miss Hale.”
“Hi, Tom.”
He swallowed.
“I have instructions not to let you upstairs.”
“From Diane.”
“Yes.”
Emily nodded.
“Okay.”
He blinked.
“Okay?”
“Can you call the board secretary and tell her the majority shareholder is in the lobby?”
Tom glanced at Matthew.
Diane’s people had probably shown every employee a picture of him by now.
Emily said, “Don’t look at him. I’m talking to you.”
Tom looked back at her.
Then he picked up the phone.
At 9:58, the elevator opened.
Board secretary Helen Walsh stepped out.
She had worked with Arthur Hale for twenty-six years.
She saw Emily’s face and stopped.
“Oh, honey.”
Emily stiffened.
Helen corrected herself immediately.
“Emily.”
Better.
“I need to attend.”
Helen looked at the guards.
Then at the steel box in Emily’s arms.
“What is that?”
“Something my father wanted me to see.”
Helen’s eyes changed.
She looked toward the ceiling camera.
Then she did something small.
She took off her employee badge and handed it to Emily.
“I dropped this.”
Emily stared at her.
Helen walked away.
Tom Reeves looked at the floor.
Emily used the badge.
The turnstile clicked open.
No one stopped her.
Matthew followed until the elevator.
Emily turned.
“You’re not coming.”
His expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Because if I walk in with you, Diane gets to say I’m being controlled by the man trying to buy the company.”
“That’s exactly what she’ll say.”
“So don’t make it easy.”
Matthew looked at Rachel.
Rachel shrugged.
“She’s right.”
He hated that.
Emily could tell.
Good.
The elevator doors began to close.
Matthew put one hand between them.
Emily looked at him.
He said, “Don’t show them everything.”
“Why?”
“Because your aunt was right.”
“About what?”
“Someone inside that boardroom has been feeding information out for years.”
Emily looked at the rising floor numbers.
Then back at him through the narrowing doors.
“Any idea who?”
Matthew hesitated.
That tiny pause again.
Emily’s stomach dropped.
“You do.”
The doors closed before he answered.
The boardroom doors were open when she arrived.
Diane sat at the head of the table in a cream suit, perfectly composed.
Eleven directors turned toward Emily.
Someone gasped.
Diane’s eyes moved to the bruise on Emily’s cheek.
Then to the steel box.
Her composure cracked.
Only slightly.
Emily saw it.
“Good morning,” Emily said.
Diane stood.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Emily pulled out a chair.
“Neither are you.”
Silence.
She placed the first document on the table.
“My father transferred fifty-one percent of Hale Systems to me.”
Several directors began talking at once.
Diane did not look at the paper.
She looked at Emily.
“Sweetheart, you need help.”
Emily leaned back.
“Probably.”
The room went quiet again.
“I had a terrible night.”
She looked around the table.
“I’m injured. I’m tired. I’m angry enough to make bad decisions.”
Diane’s eyes narrowed.
Emily continued.
“So I’m not asking you to trust my mood.”
She tapped the document.
“I’m asking you to read.”
The board’s general counsel took the transfer papers.
Diane reached for them.
He pulled them away.
“Let me review.”
Her face changed.
Just a flicker.
Emily saw fear.
Then the boardroom screen came on behind her.
Matthew’s face appeared remotely.
Emily spun around.
“What are you doing?”
He looked grim.
“I’m sorry.”
Diane smiled.
Emily felt her stomach sink.
Matthew continued.
“There’s something in the loan package you need to see before you vote.”
A document appeared on screen.
At the bottom was Arthur Hale’s signature.
Beside it was another signature.
MATTHEW CARTER.
Emily stared at him.
The date was four years earlier.
May you like
Matthew had not merely known about the debt.
He had personally guaranteed it.
