“I do not need partners,” Andrew said, adjusting his silk cuffs again with a sharp tug. “The primary note is fully secured. It is a closed loop, completely managed.”
He was referring to the five-hundred-forty-thousand-dollar promissory note he had signed three weeks ago. He believed the loan had come from a quiet private trust managed by a family friend who wanted to help him succeed.
He had no idea that the funds had been drawn directly from Meridian Capital Group, the Savannah-based investment firm that I had built from nothing over the last decade. He believed I knew nothing about his corporate filings.
“And your wife?” Ray asked, glancing toward the path where I stood. “Is she on the deed?”
“Laura handles the girls,” Andrew said, his voice dropping slightly but retaining its rapid, confident pace. “She has her little real estate job to keep her occupied. We do not mix family assets with her projects.”
I turned my ring twice around my finger, watching him laugh again as he clinked his glass against his uncle’s.
He had forged my signature on three separate financial disclosures to secure that note, believing I would never look at the corporate filings.
