Chapter 11 - AUNT PATRICIA
Aunt Patricia denied seeing anything.
“I was looking for the restroom.”
she said.
“The restroom was on the opposite side of the ballroom.”
“I got turned around.”
Marissa did not argue.
She simply showed her the reflection.
Patricia’s face remained calm.
“You can see Derek holding the cannon.”
Marissa said.
“You can see Vanessa holding the bag.”
“And you stood there for at least forty seconds.”
Patricia folded her hands.
“I did not know what they were doing.”
“Did you tell anyone afterward?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I saw nothing criminal.”
I watched from behind the glass.
Patricia had always been controlled.
Even at Mom’s funeral, she cried quietly.
She ran Bellamy the same way.
No shouting.
No visible panic.
No mistakes.
Then Marissa asked about Victor Hale.
Patricia’s jaw tightened.
“You know him.”
“Professionally.”
“How professionally?”
“He represents the prospective buyer.”
“Have you met privately?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t remember.”
Phone records remembered.
Twenty-eight calls.
Four dinners.
Two hotel meetings during industry conferences.
Patricia had been negotiating the sale without telling the board.
When investigators searched her office, they found projections showing what would happen if Vanessa controlled my voting rights.
The sale passed.
Without my vote, the sale failed.
I stared at the numbers.
Aunt Patricia needed me removed just as much as Derek did.
Then Harold arrived at my apartment that evening.
He looked pale.
“Your mother suspected Patricia.”
“Of what?”
“Trying to force the company sale.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because suspicion is not evidence.”
He opened Mom’s estate file.
Inside was another letter.
Not sealed.
This one was addressed to Patricia.
Pat,
If you push the sale after I’m gone, Claire will stop you.
She understands what Dad built.
Vanessa may be easier to persuade, but do not use my daughters against each other.
If I learn you have, I will remove you from every position I still control.
Mom had never sent it.
Harold found it among her papers after she died.
“Why would Patricia want the sale so badly?”
I asked.
Harold looked uncomfortable.
“Because she has a personal financial problem.”
“What kind?”
“Seven million dollars.”
Patricia had borrowed against her future Bellamy compensation.
If the company did not sell, repayment was due within six months.
My aunt did not merely want the sale.
She needed it.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
May you like
A distorted voice whispered,
“Your mother did not die from cancer alone.”
