Chapter 7
Night fell over Sarah’s small motel room like an iron curtain.
Inside, Chloe had finally fallen into a deep, medicine-assisted sleep, her purple inhaler resting on the nightstand beside a glass of ice water. Caleb sat on the cramped vinyl chair in the corner, staring at the floorboards between his boots.
Sarah sat on the edge of the second bed, a mug of black tea warming her hands.
“You can’t win against her tomorrow, Caleb,” Sarah said softly. “She’s spent months setting the pieces. She’s had private investigators, board members, and family court attorneys on retainer.”
Caleb rubbed his face with calloused hands. “I don't care about the company anymore, Sarah.”
“You do care,” Sarah said firmly. “And you should. Natalie gave everything to help you start that business. She worked twelve-hour shifts at the medical clinic to pay for your first refrigeration van. Warren Mechanical belongs to Chloe. If Diane takes it, she’ll turn it into a trust that cuts Chloe off unless she obeys her every command.”
Caleb looked up, his chest aching. “How do you know that?”
“Because Natalie told me,” Sarah whispered. “Before she had Chloe, Natalie was terrified of Diane. She knew Diane was trying to rewrite the operating agreements.”
A sudden, rhythmic knock echoed against the motel door. Three taps, a pause, then two more.
Caleb sprang to his feet, shielding Sarah behind him as he approached the door and peered through the peephole.
An elderly man in a rumpled tweed coat stood under the flickering amber porch light, leaning heavily on a brass-topped walking cane.
Caleb unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open an inch. “Can I help you?”
“Caleb Warren?” the man asked. His voice was gravelly, worn by decades of courtroom arguments. “My name is Arthur Pendelton. I was June Bell’s family attorney for forty years until I retired.”
Caleb widened the door. “June sent you?”
“June called me an hour ago from her hospital bed,” Pendelton said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He took off his flat cap, nodding respectfully to Sarah. “She said Diane Warren finally brought the knives out. She told me it was time to deliver what Natalie left in my office eight years ago.”
Pendelton reached into his leather briefcase and pulled out a worn, leather-bound journal with a faded brass clasp.
Caleb’s breath caught in his throat.
The cover was dark green leather, scuffed at the corners. Pressed into the bottom right corner in gold foil were the initials: N. B. W.
Natalie Bell Warren.
“What is this?” Caleb whispered, his hands trembling as he reached for it.
“Natalie came to my office three weeks before she gave birth,” Pendelton said quietly. “She knew Diane was maneuvering to take over the corporate structure of Warren Mechanical. Natalie executed an irrevocable amendment to her founder’s shares. She left specific instructions that it was only to be opened if Diane attempted a hostile takeover of the family estate.”
May you like
Pendelton tapped the spine of the journal.
“Inside this book is the original copy of Natalie’s personal corporate assignment, witnessed by two independent bank officers. And a letter she wrote to you, Caleb. A letter Diane spent eight years trying to find and destroy.”
