Chapter 2 - Five Forty-Eight
Grace looked at Ethan’s hand.
The hand that had been resting on Vanessa’s waist less than a minute earlier.
Then she raised her eyes.
“I’m working.”
Ethan actually laughed.
It was a reflex more than amusement.
“Working?”
“Yes.”
“At a resort?”
Declan Pierce glanced at his watch again.
“Grace.”
“I know.”
Something about the familiarity between them made Ethan’s chest tighten.
Grace turned toward the elevator.
Ethan stepped in front of her.
“No. We’re not doing this.”
For the first time, something moved behind Grace’s expression.
Not heartbreak.
Disbelief.
“You’re blocking a pregnant woman from an elevator because you want to discuss appropriate behavior?”
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
Ethan ignored her.
“What are you signing?”
Grace looked at the black folder in her hand.
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
“Mine.”
“I’m your husband.”
“For the moment.”
Silence.
Even Declan looked at her then.
Ethan’s face changed.
“What does that mean?”
The elevator doors opened.
Grace stepped inside.
Declan followed.
Ethan caught the door before it closed.
“I asked you a question.”
Grace met his stare.
“And I answered it.”
The doors shut.
Ethan stood there.
Vanessa approached cautiously.
“Ethan.”
He turned on her.
“What?”
“People are looking.”
He glanced around.
She was right.
A bellman had suddenly become fascinated with a luggage cart. Two women near the bar were whispering. The string quartet continued playing, but one violinist kept glancing toward them.
Ethan pulled out his phone.
Seven missed calls from his chief financial officer.
Three from his attorney.
Eleven from an unknown number.
And one text from Martin Shaw, chairman of Calloway Maritime.
CALL ME. NOW.
Ethan pressed the number.
Martin answered immediately.
“Where the hell are you?”
“What happened?”
“What happened?”
Martin sounded almost breathless.
“Pierce Global happened.”
Ethan stared at the elevator.
“What about Pierce?”
“They’ve been accumulating our debt.”
His stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Not the public debt. The privately held notes. Three institutional lenders transferred positions this morning.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It happened.”
“How much?”
A pause.
“Enough.”
Ethan walked toward the windows.
Outside, sunlight glittered across the marina.
“Define enough.”
“Enough that if the Harbor Atlantic acquisition misses closing, Pierce can force us into restructuring.”
Ethan went still.
Harbor Atlantic.
The largest acquisition in Calloway Maritime’s history.
The deal that would either make Ethan one of the most powerful shipping executives on the East Coast or bury the company beneath $640 million in leveraged debt.
The closing was scheduled for Monday.
“Why would Pierce want our debt?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
Ethan looked toward the elevators.
Grace.
Black folder.
Declan Pierce.
Five forty-eight.
“Where’s legal?”
“Trying to find you.”
“I’ll call back.”
“Ethan—”
He hung up.
Vanessa was watching him.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“I need to tell you something.”
He hated those words immediately.
“What?”
Vanessa glanced around.
“Not here.”
“Say it.”
“Ethan—”
“Vanessa.”
She exhaled.
“Grace came to my office three weeks ago.”
The lobby seemed to become quieter.
“What?”
“She asked questions.”
“What questions?”
“About Harbor Atlantic.”
“Why would my wife ask you about an acquisition?”
Vanessa’s hesitation gave him the answer before she spoke.
“She knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That you were using the Mercer trust shares as collateral.”
Ethan’s expression hardened.
Nobody outside the executive committee was supposed to know that.
The Mercer shares had belonged to Grace’s late mother.
Technically, they were held in a family trust.
Technically, Ethan had obtained authority to use them as collateral through a voting agreement Grace had signed eighteen months earlier.
A document buried inside nearly two hundred pages of estate restructuring paperwork.
Grace had never asked about it.
Until now.
“How did she know?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan looked back toward the elevator.
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing.”
“Vanessa.”
“Almost nothing.”
His jaw tightened.
“What does almost mean?”
“She already had copies.”
That frightened him more than anything else.
Meanwhile, thirty-one floors above them, Grace entered a private conference room overlooking the ocean.
Six attorneys stood as she entered.
So did two representatives from Pierce Global.
A document waited in front of the empty chair at the head of the table.
Grace sat.
Declan took the chair beside her.
Her attorney, Rebecca Sloan, pushed a pen across the polished walnut table.
“You can still wait.”
Grace looked at the signature line.
“No.”
Rebecca lowered her voice.
“Once you sign, Calloway loses access to the Mercer voting block.”
Grace rested one hand on her stomach.
Her baby moved beneath her palm.
She remembered Ethan saying goodbye four mornings earlier.
Investor conference.
New York.
Back Friday.
Love you.
Then she remembered the photograph sent anonymously to her phone twelve hours later.
Ethan.
Vanessa.
The Halcyon Crown.
Grace picked up the pen.
Declan watched her carefully.
“This shouldn’t be revenge,” he said.
“It isn’t.”
“Good.”
Grace signed.
Rebecca turned the page.
Grace signed again.
And again.
At 5:53 p.m., the Mercer family shares were transferred into an independent trust Ethan Calloway could no longer control.
Grace placed the pen down.
Declan closed the folder.
“It’s done.”
Grace stared through the windows.
“No.”
Her voice was quiet.
“The business part is done.”
Her phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
She opened it.
The color drained from her face.
Declan noticed.
“What is it?”
Grace turned the phone toward him.
The message contained six words.
ASK ETHAN WHO CHANGED YOUR PRENUP.
May you like
And beneath those words was a photograph of a document bearing Grace’s signature.
A signature Grace knew immediately was not hers.
