Gerald Knox.
A man who owed Martin his entire career.
Martin lowered his voice.
“Natalie, you are making assumptions.”
“No.”
I looked at the box.
“Richard made assumptions.”
I picked up one document.
“He saved evidence.”
Another.
“He built a timeline.”
Another.
“He identified Northstar.”
Then I held up the Project Crown proposal.
“And he figured out your motive.”
Martin’s face changed.
Not much.
But enough.
I had hit the truth.
Then Sofia’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her expression darkened.
She answered.
“Alvarez.”
She listened.
Then looked at Martin.
“What?”
More listening.
“Lock the exits.”
Martin turned.
“What happened?”
Sofia ended the call.
“Blake is at headquarters.”
I stared at her.
“Doing what?”
“He entered executive finance ten minutes ago using a temporary visitor credential.”
Martin went pale.
“He doesn’t have access.”
“He does now.”
Sofia was already moving.
The rest of us followed.
By the time we reached the elevator, alarms had begun chiming.
Not fire alarms.
System alarms.
Security.
Martin swore under his breath.
“What is he after?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
Then I knew.
“Project Crown.”
Martin looked at me.
Blake wasn’t trying to steal accounting records.
He was trying to steal the sale agreement.
Leverage.
If the acquisition was worth billions, the Carter stake was worth far more than Blake had demanded.
And now he knew it.
We found Blake on the fifteenth floor.
He wasn’t alone.
Vivian was with him.
So were two private attorneys.
A rolling suitcase sat beside them.
I stopped when I saw it.
“Tell me that isn’t full of company documents.”
Blake looked at me.
For the first time in days, he smiled.
“You always were quick.”
Vivian looked less confident.
“Blake, we should leave.”
Martin stepped forward.
“You’re finished.”
Blake laughed.
“Am I?”
He held up a thick folder.
“Project Crown.”
Martin’s face went rigid.
Blake continued.
“Three-point-four-billion-dollar transaction. Very impressive.”
“You’re in possession of stolen records.”
“Interesting word, stolen.”
His eyes moved toward the box Sofia carried.
“Considering what you’ve been doing for eight years.”
Martin said nothing.
Blake looked at me.
“You found Dad’s box.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“That saves time.”
I stared at him.
“You knew it was in the basement.”
“No.”
“You sent your mother into my office searching for it.”
“I suspected you had moved it.”
“You used Vivian.”
His jaw tightened.
“Don’t pretend she’s a victim.”
Vivian flinched.
I looked at her.
Then back at him.
“You told her Martin approached you.”
“He did.”
Martin said, “That’s a lie.”
Blake smiled.
“See? This is the fun part. Everybody has documents proving everybody else is lying.”
Daniel murmured, “He’s not wrong.”
Blake lifted another page.
“I have transfers from Northstar.”
Martin said, “Transfers you willingly accepted.”
“I also have instructions from Gerald Knox.”
My heart skipped.
“What instructions?”
Blake looked at me.
“To route credits through flagship authorization.”
The corridor went silent.
“Your authorization,” he added.
I stepped toward him.
“You knew they were using my credentials.”
Blake’s smile faded.
“Natalie.”
“You knew.”
“I knew Gerald had access.”
“And you let them put my name on it.”
“You were never supposed to be charged.”
I laughed.
There are moments when grief becomes so enormous it circles back into absurdity.
“You stood beside your mother while she accused me of stealing.”
“I needed Martin to believe I was cooperating.”
“With whom?”
“Me.”
“No, Blake. With whom?”
He didn’t answer.
And suddenly I understood.
There had never been two sides.
Martin versus Blake.
Vivian versus me.
Corporate versus family.
There were simply several greedy people trying to use one another.
And I had been the safest person to sacrifice because they all believed I had the least power.
Blake stepped closer.
“I can fix this.”
“You already said that once.”
“I mean it.”
“How?”
His voice dropped.
“The buyer wants ninety percent.”
“So?”
“The Carter stake can block the transaction.”
“Yes.”
“That gives us leverage.”
“Us?”
“You and me.”
I stared at him.
He actually believed there was still an us.
“I can negotiate immunity. A payout. We leave. Start over.”
Vivian whispered, “Blake—”
He snapped, “Mom, stop.”
I looked at the man I had married.
There had been a time when his ambition attracted me.
He was bold.
Funny.
Restless.
He made ordinary evenings feel like beginnings.
I had mistaken motion for direction.
Now I could finally see him clearly.
Blake didn’t want to build anything.
