Told everyone the subject had been mistakenly identified.”
“But you knew it wasn’t a mistake.”
“Yes.”
I tightened my grip on the old photograph.
“So Thomas lied.”
“Yes.”
“And Rachel may be working for Northstead.”
“Yes.”
“Nathan has been transferring shares.”
“Yes.”
“My father could still be alive.”
“Yes.”
“And somebody keeps texting me details they shouldn’t know.”
Celeste nodded.
I stared at her.
“Whoever is sending those messages wants me to find the truth.”
“Or they’re controlling exactly where you go.”
The difference was terrifying.
My phone rang.
Nathan.
I declined it.
He called again.
I declined it again.
A voicemail arrived.
I played it through the speaker.
Nathan sounded panicked and exhausted.
“Claire, whatever Celeste has told you, don’t believe all of it.
I found that box before you did.
I know about Thomas.
I know about your father.
And Rachel is not who you think she is.”
Celeste and I stared at each other.
His message continued.
“I didn’t forge those documents.
I was trying to stop somebody from taking the company.
I handled everything badly.
All of it.
But you need to understand something. Northstead isn’t trying to steal your company. Northstead already owns it.”
The voicemail ended.
We agreed to meet Nathan in public.
That was my condition.
We chose a twenty-four-hour diner near the interstate, brightly lit and only partly occupied even though midnight was approaching.
Nathan came alone.
There was a small cut near the left side of his jaw.
I noticed immediately.
“What happened to you?”
“Thomas.”
Celeste sat beside me.
Nathan looked at her with open disgust.
“You.”
She stared back at him.
“You lied too.”
“So did you.”
“Enough,” I said.
Both of them stopped.
Nathan sat across from us.
Without his jacket, he looked different.
His tie was gone.
His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
Exhaustion had replaced most of the polished confidence he wore in public.
For one painful moment, he looked like the twenty-six-year-old man I once fell in love with.
It made me angrier.
“What happened at my mother’s house?”
“I arrived after you left.”
“And Thomas?”
“He was already there.”
My skin tightened.
“Inside?”
“In the study.”
“How did he get in?”
“He still has keys.”
“Why?”
“Apparently your mother gave him a set years ago.”
“What was he looking for?”
“The box.”
I looked down at the bag near my feet.
Nathan noticed.
“You have it.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why did Thomas hit you?”
“Because I told him I burned the paperwork.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“What paperwork?”
Nathan reached slowly into his coat.
Celeste tensed.
He placed a folder on the table.
Inside were copies of old trust papers.
Original company records.
And a DNA report.
I stared at the page.
Nathan Vale.
Thomas Vale.
Probability of biological paternity: 99.9987 percent.
“You knew.”
“For two months.”
“And you never told me.”
“How was I supposed to tell you something like that?”
“You could have tried, ‘Claire, remember that man your father trusted before he vanished?
Apparently he’s my biological father and everything I told you about my childhood isn’t true.’”
Nathan flinched.
“I didn’t know my mother lied until two months ago.”
“Why did you take the test?”
“Thomas approached me.”
“When?”
“January.”
“What did he want?”
“He said somebody was targeting Langford & Bell.
He told me your father established Northstead as an emergency holding company before he vanished.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“He told you to move shares there?”
“He said we had seventy-two hours before a hostile lender could gain control.”
“So you forged my signature.”
“No.”
I slapped my palm against the table.
“Stop saying that.”
Several people looked over.
Nathan lowered his voice.
“I did not forge it.”
“Then who put it on the paperwork?”
“Rachel.”
I stared at him.
“She brought the documents to me.”
“Why would Rachel—”
“She said you had already signed.”
“She lied.”
“I understand that now.”
“You could have called me.”
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I called you three times that afternoon.”
I remembered.
I had been at an off-site board retreat.
My phone stayed on silent most of the day.
Three missed calls from Nathan.
I had texted him: In meetings all day.
Anything urgent?
He had replied: Nothing that can’t wait.
I felt physically sick.
“You chose not to tell me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Rachel told me you were already overwhelmed because of what was happening between us.”
My face hardened.
“She knew about Celeste.”
Celeste stiffened beside me.
Rachel had known before I did.
Nathan continued.
“She said if I came to you with an emergency transfer while we were already fighting, you might panic and refuse.”
“So you signed everything anyway.”
“I signed my own part.”
“And my part?”
“I saw Rachel produce documents that already had your signature.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“She told me she personally witnessed you sign electronically.”
“Why would she do that?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan leaned closer.
“But after the shares transferred, everything changed.
Thomas suddenly started pressuring me to approve a merger.”
“With who?”
“Northstead.”
My stomach tightened.
“That makes no sense if Northstead already controls us.”
“Exactly.”
“So you started digging.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Nathan glanced at Celeste.
“That’s why I used her computer.”
Celeste reluctantly nodded.
“We discovered Northstead’s oldest incorporation record.”
Nathan pushed another document toward me.
The company had not truly begun nineteen months earlier.
That had only been a restructuring.
Northstead was originally created twenty years earlier.
Three weeks before my father’s plane disappeared.
My fingers went cold.
“Who founded it?”
Nathan pointed toward the page.
I read the name.
Elliot Langford.
My father.
I looked at Nathan.
“You told me Northstead already owns Langford & Bell.”
“According to the oldest corporate records, your father moved a controlling block of shares into Northstead before his disappearance.”
“But that contradicts the trust.”
“Unless the trust was never the controlling document.”
Celeste shook her head.
“Thomas told me the trust controlled everything.”
Nathan gave a bitter laugh.
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