Chapter 7 - THE PRICE OF TELLING THE TRUTH
Lena didn't sleep that night.
She moved Sophie and Emma into the bedroom with her, checked every lock twice, and contacted the local authorities after speaking with her attorney.
She refused to let fear dictate her next move.
But she couldn't ignore the message.
Someone knew where her daughters went to school.
Someone knew about Daniel.
And someone was willing to use two children to force her into surrendering documents she barely understood.
By morning, Lena had made a decision.
She would return to Boston.
Not for Preston.
Not for Richard.
For her daughters.
If the Hale family believed the girls could be used as leverage, Lena would make certain that the truth became impossible to bury.
***
Preston was waiting outside his father's office when Lena arrived in Boston two days later.
He looked exhausted.
When he saw her, he took a step forward.
“Lena.”
She stopped several feet away.
“Don't.”
“I need to explain.”
“You had eleven years to explain.”
He absorbed the words without arguing.
“I know.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Preston noticed the photograph in her hand.
“What's that?”
“Proof that your father has been hiding something.”
His face tightened.
“What did you find?”
“Enough to know that he isn't telling you the truth.”
She showed him the old photograph of Eleanor and Margaret.
Preston stared at it.
“My mother never mentioned this.”
“Maybe she was afraid.”
“Of my father?”
Lena said nothing.
He looked away.
“Are the girls safe?”
“They are with someone I trust.”
“Can I see them?”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
Pain crossed his face.
“Lena, they're my daughters.”
“Then you should have remembered that when you told me to take them and leave.”
He lowered his head.
“You're right.”
She hadn't expected him to agree.
For the first time, Preston seemed to understand that an apology wasn't a key that opened every locked door.
“I can't change what I said,” he continued. “But I can change what I do next.”
“Then start by telling me everything you know about the trust.”
He hesitated.
“My father has been trying to gain control of the foundation for years. I didn't know the details until recently. He believes a male heir will strengthen his claim.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“I know that now.”
“Do you?”
He met her eyes.
“Yes.”
Lena handed him a copy of the trust agreement.
“Your daughters have rights under this document. So do other children. Richard is trying to change the rules before anyone can challenge him.”
Preston read the page carefully.
Then he stopped at a clause near the bottom.
“If the trustee cannot be located, control transfers to the independent administrator.”
“Daniel Mercer,” Lena said.
Preston looked up.
“Where is he?”
“Somewhere Richard's people haven't found him yet.”
Preston's phone vibrated.
A message from his brother, Andrew.
Dad is meeting Brielle tonight. I think she's going to tell him something.
Preston showed Lena the message.
She felt a cold certainty settle over her.
“She's afraid of your father.”
“So am I,” Preston admitted.
The honesty in his voice surprised her.
He put his phone away.
“I want to help you.”
Lena studied him for a long moment.
“You don't get to become a hero because you finally realized your father is dangerous.”
“I know.”
“And you don't get access to the girls just because you're sorry.”
“I know that too.”
She turned toward the elevator.
“Then prove it.”
That evening, Preston entered his father's private study through the side door.
He found Richard standing beside the fireplace, holding a sealed envelope.
Brielle sat in a chair near the window.
Her face was pale.
Richard looked up.
“You're early.”
Preston ignored him.
“What did you do to Lena?”
“Nothing.”
“Someone threatened her daughters.”
Richard's expression barely changed.
“Then she should stop interfering in matters she doesn't understand.”
Preston felt something inside him snap.
“They're children!”
“And children are often the reason families lose everything.”
Brielle suddenly stood.
“That's enough.”
Richard turned toward her.
“You should be grateful I gave you a chance.”
Brielle laughed bitterly.
“You didn't give me a chance. You gave me a script.”
Preston looked at her.
“What are you talking about?”
She reached into her handbag and removed a folded document.
“My pregnancy was real when I first told you. But I wasn't certain of the dates, and I wasn't certain of the father.”
Preston went still.
Brielle swallowed.
“Before I met you, I was involved with someone who worked for your father's company. When I discovered I was pregnant, I thought the baby might be yours. Your father promised to help me confirm it.”
Richard's voice turned icy.
“You were instructed to keep your personal life private.”
“You told me Preston was the father before the tests were completed!”
Preston stared at his father.
“You knew?”
Richard didn't answer.
Brielle placed the document on the desk.
“And now I know why.”
It was a copy of an internal company email.
The message had been sent months earlier.
Its subject line read:
SUCCESSION CONTINGENCY — PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL
Preston began reading.
By the time he reached the final paragraph, his hands were shaking.
His father hadn't merely hoped for a grandson.
He'd been planning to use the possibility of one to force changes to the family trust.
And Brielle wasn't the only person he had recruited.
May you like
The email named another participant.
Andrew Hale.
