Chapter 8 - THE EMERGENCY TRUST MEETING
The trust meeting began at ten the next morning.
Emily arrived early.
Raymond sat beside her.
Across the table were Harold Whitmore, Grant Whitmore, three independent trustees, two attorneys, and Preston.
Preston looked tired.
Emily looked calm.
That unsettled him.
The chairman cleared his throat.
“This emergency session concerns potential breaches of fiduciary duty involving the Eleanor Saint Claire Foundation and associated hospital operations.”
Preston leaned toward his microphone.
“Before this begins, I want it noted that my wife is under emotional distress.”
Emily turned her head.
Preston continued.
“She experienced a traumatic event less than forty-eight hours ago.”
Raymond looked at Emily.
Emily said nothing.
Preston pressed on.
“I question whether she has the capacity to participate in decisions of this magnitude.”
Harold closed his eyes.
Grant stared at the table.
Emily finally spoke.
“Are you finished?”
Preston looked at her.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Emily opened the folder in front of her.
“You stood beside Vanessa while she kicked me.”
“That is not—”
Emily raised one finger.
Preston stopped.
“You then threatened a nurse who witnessed it.”
His face darkened.
“You are now suggesting I lack capacity because I survived what you refused to stop.”
Nobody moved.
Emily slid a document across the table.
“My physician provided a statement confirming I am medically competent to participate.”
She slid another.
“My attorney provided notice that I am exercising all voting rights attached to my trust.”
Then another.
“And the independent audit has already identified twelve suspicious vendor accounts.”
Preston’s face changed.
Raymond watched him carefully.
The chairman spoke.
“Twelve?”
Raymond nodded.
“We originally found six.”
Harold looked toward Preston.
Emily continued.
“Cross Health Strategies received more than four million dollars.”
Preston leaned forward.
“Those services were approved.”
“By whom?”
“Operations.”
Emily looked down.
“You signed the approvals.”
“As chief development officer.”
“And Vanessa signed the invoices.”
“She ran the vendor.”
Emily looked at him.
“You were sleeping with her.”
Preston’s face hardened.
“That is irrelevant.”
“No.”
Emily’s voice remained soft.
“It is remarkably relevant when your mistress receives millions from a charity connected to your wife’s inheritance.”
The chairman removed his glasses.
“Mr. Whitmore, did you disclose this relationship?”
Preston did not answer.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
“No.”
Grant leaned back.
Harold looked twenty years older.
Emily studied Preston.
Then Raymond pushed another document forward.
“This is worse.”
Preston’s eyes moved toward it.
Raymond continued.
“Two vendors receiving foundation money do not appear to have employees.”
The chairman frowned.
“What do they have?”
Raymond looked at Preston.
“Bank accounts.”
Emily felt her baby move.
She pressed a palm gently against her stomach.
Then the meeting-room door opened.
A lawyer stepped inside.
He whispered something to Raymond.
Raymond looked toward Emily.
“What?”
Raymond placed a sealed envelope in front of her.
“Vanessa Cross wants immunity cooperation.”
Preston stood so quickly his chair struck the wall.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
Emily slowly opened the envelope.
May you like
Inside was a single sentence.
I CAN PROVE WHERE PRESTON HID THE REST.
