Chapter 6 - The Second Will
The address belonged to a tiny accounting office above an Italian bakery in Astoria. Rebecca came with me. So did Jonah, who remained across the street because the mysterious sender insisted lawyers were acceptable but “men in suits” were not. Rebecca wore a suit anyway, which I thought was funny.
The woman waiting upstairs was seventy-three.
Her name was Teresa Callahan.
Dominic’s aunt.
I had met her once at our wedding.
She left after the ceremony and never attended another family event.
“You look like your mother,” she told me.
I sat.
“You knew Eleanor?”
“Very well.”
That surprised me.
“My mother never mentioned you.”
“She had reasons.”
Teresa placed a sealed envelope on the desk.
“My brother made mistakes.”
“Dominic’s father?”
“Alexander.”
“He’s been dead eight years.”
“Yes.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“He knew Charles Vane was manipulating company structures.”
Rebecca’s expression sharpened.
“Go on.”
“Alexander discovered Charles had concealed beneficial ownership from several minority partners. He believed Dominic was becoming too dependent on Charles.”
“Why didn’t he fire him?”
“Because Charles knew where many bodies were buried.”
Metaphorical, I hoped.
Teresa continued.
“Alexander changed his estate plan before dying.”
“Dominic inherited everything.”
“Not everything.”
She slid the envelope toward me.
Inside was a codicil.
If Callahan Maritime regained solvency through capital directly or indirectly attributable to a Marlowe heir, the Marlowe investor gained an option to acquire an additional ten percent of voting shares at original distressed valuation.
My pulse jumped.
Rebecca read twice.
“This option is still valid.”
Teresa nodded.
“How much would it cost?”
“Approximately eight million.”
I almost laughed.
“How much are the shares worth now?”
“More than one hundred million.”
My stomach flipped.
Dominic did not control his empire as completely as he believed.
Teresa looked at my stomach, then remembered Elias had already been born.
“How is the baby?”
“Premature but stable.”
“Does he have the mutation?”
“Mild signs.”
She nodded sadly.
“My brother had it.”
“Alexander?”
“Yes.”
“Dominic told me his father died of a stroke.”
“That is what the public was told.”
My skin prickled.
“What happened?”
“Cardiac arrest.”
“Did Dominic know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why hide it?”
“Insurance. Investors. Pride.”
I thought of Dominic hiding Elias’s genetic report.
The Callahan family had been hiding illness for generations.
Teresa leaned closer.
“Your son may inherit more than money.”
“I don’t care about the money compared with his health.”
“Good.”
Her eyes softened.
“That is why Eleanor trusted you.”
“What do you mean?”
Teresa opened another envelope.
A letter from my mother.
I recognized her handwriting instantly.
Teresa, if Clare ever becomes entangled with the Callahans, protect her from Charles Vane. He has spent years trying to gain control of the Marlowe port interests. Dominic may or may not know the full extent.
My hands began shaking.
Dated nine years earlier.
Before I met Dominic.
“My mother knew Charles?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Charles advised your grandfather’s estate.”
Everything connected.
The trust.
The investment.
Dominic.
Callahan Maritime.
None of it started with our marriage.
Charles had been positioning pieces for decades.
“Did Charles arrange Dominic meeting me?”
Teresa nodded.
“Probably.”
“Did Alexander know?”
“No.”
“Did Dominic?”
“At first, yes.”
I looked away.
Rebecca touched my hand.
Teresa continued.
“But I watched Dominic after he married you. He changed.”
“Then changed back.”
“Power does that when people let it.”
I almost laughed at the understatement.
We left with the codicil.
By afternoon, Rebecca exercised the option before Charles could challenge it.
Eight million dollars transferred from an emergency line secured against my existing shares.
By sunset, I owned enough voting interest to force a special shareholders’ meeting.
When Dominic’s attorneys received notice, he called Rebecca.
Not me.
Good.
Then he sent one message.
You found Teresa.
I replied.
I found more than you expected.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then:
Charles lied to me about the codicil.
I stared.
You expect me to believe that?
His answer:
No. Not yet.
That night, Elias had a cardiac episode.
His oxygen saturation dropped.
The NICU called me at 2:10 a.m.
I ran.
Dr. Reyes met me inside.
“We’ve stabilized him.”
“What happened?”
“An arrhythmia.”
My knees weakened.
“Is this the mutation?”
“Likely related.”
“Does he need surgery?”
“Not now. But we need closer monitoring.”
I stood beside the incubator crying.
Then someone stopped outside the NICU doors.
Dominic.
He remained there.
He did not enter.
He had visitation rights to Elias, but my protective order required scheduled access.
He saw me through the glass.
I saw him.
For several seconds neither moved.
Then Dr. Reyes approached me.
“Do you want him here?”
Every part of me answered differently.
Wife.
Mother.
Victim.
Woman who still remembered loving him.
I looked at my tiny son.
Then nodded.
Dominic entered quietly.
He stood on the opposite side of the incubator.
“What happened?”
“Arrhythmia.”
His face went white.
“Is he—”
“Stable.”
Dominic pressed his fingers against the clear plastic.
“Hey, little man.”
His voice broke.
I looked away.
Then he said something unexpected.
“My father had the same thing.”
I turned.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“What?”
“My mother told me tonight.”
“Your mother is alive?”
He nodded.
“Barely part of my life. But after the genetic report became public in discovery, she called.”
I stared.
“Your father died from cardiac arrest.”
“Yes.”
“You told me stroke.”
“That’s what Charles told me.”
The name hung between us.
Charles.
Again.
Then Dominic looked at me.
“Clare, I think Charles has been controlling both families longer than either of us knew.”
I almost laughed.
“Convenient.”
“I know.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Not yet.”
“Then get it.”
His eyes met mine.
“I will.”
For the first time, we were not husband and wife.
Not enemies.
Not lovers.
May you like
Just two frightened parents standing beside a premature baby.
And for one hour, that was enough.
