Chapter 3 - Sloane’s Mother Had a Reason to Hate Us
Victoria Ellery had died five years earlier, but Mara found enough surviving records to reconstruct the relationship no one in the West family discussed. In the late nineties, Richard West and Victoria worked together at a development company before Richard founded the firm that later became Westbridge. Victoria was an interior designer with enough industry connections to secure early luxury clients. Richard was married to Evelyn. The affair lasted four years. Victoria became pregnant once but miscarried. She later accused Richard of taking several of her concepts and client relationships when he launched his own business. Nothing reached court. A private settlement had been signed. “How private?” Charlotte asked. Mara looked at the scanned agreement. “Private enough that somebody paid Victoria $1.8 million to never discuss Westbridge’s origins.” “Richard?” “Yes.” “Did he steal from her?” “We don’t know.”
Sloane had been fourteen when the affair ended. Richard was not her father, but he had been present through much of her adolescence. There were photographs of Richard attending school events, vacations, even Sloane’s sixteenth birthday. Then he vanished from their life when Victoria signed the settlement. “So Sloane grew up watching a married man abandon her mother,” Charlotte said. Mara nodded. “Then she entered the son’s company and began sleeping with him.” “That is either psychologically fascinating or horrifying.” “Possibly both.”
Charlotte did not assume revenge. People were messier than motives. Sloane might genuinely love Grant while also carrying resentment. But one fact became important: Ellery Strategy’s first major contract with Westbridge began three weeks after Sloane obtained access to her mother’s sealed records following probate litigation.
“What records?” Charlotte asked.
Mara smiled grimly. “Exactly.”
Meanwhile Grant’s birthday party approached.
Charlotte made no changes to the event except one. The catering staff received instructions to leave one silver service cart covered with black velvet until Charlotte requested it. Underneath would be twelve ivory plates.
The registry gift was shipped directly to the Meridian Crown rather than Perry Street. Charlotte had changed the delivery after deciding Sloane deserved to receive it personally.
Grant believed the party would celebrate him.
One hundred twenty guests accepted.
Westbridge executives.
Meridian investors.
Grant’s parents.
Sloane.
Her invitation had come from Grant’s office, not Charlotte.
Convenient.
Mara warned Charlotte not to reveal active financial evidence publicly in ways that could jeopardize investigations. Charlotte agreed.
“I only need enough truth.”
“That sentence also worries lawyers.”
“Everything worries lawyers.”
“It’s literally the service.”
The day before the party, Sloane called Charlotte.
Not emailed.
Called.
Charlotte answered.
“Sloane.”
A pause.
“You know.”
Charlotte looked through her office window.
“About what?”
“Grant.”
“You’ll need to narrow it down.”
Sloane exhaled. “Can we meet?”
“Why?”
“Because this is more complicated than you think.”
“That phrase is incredibly popular among people sleeping with married men.”
“I deserve that.”
Charlotte was surprised.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why meet?”
“Because Grant lied to both of us.”
Charlotte almost laughed.
“He is my husband. The symmetry is weak.”
“I know about the registry gift.”
Charlotte went still.
“How?”
“It showed as purchased.”
“Not the note.”
“No.”
“Then tomorrow will retain some charm.”
Sloane’s voice sharpened. “Charlotte, Grant told me you agreed to divorce.”
Charlotte laughed.
“For how long?”
Silence.
“He said you had been living separately emotionally for years.”
“Emotionally. Fascinating jurisdiction.”
“He said papers were being finalized.”
“Did you ask to see them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I believed him.”
Charlotte’s anger became unexpectedly clean.
“You wanted to believe him.”
“Yes.”
“At least that’s honest.”
Sloane continued, “He told me Perry Street was his personally.”
“It belongs to Westbridge.”
Silence.
“He said he owned the controlling entity.”
“He doesn’t.”
Another silence.
Charlotte could hear Sloane reevaluating her entire future.
“What about the wedding expenses?” Charlotte asked.
“What about them?”
“Who did you think paid?”
“Grant.”
“Westbridge paid.”
Sloane stopped breathing for a moment.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“He told me he reimbursed everything.”
“Then ask him for proof.”
Charlotte almost ended the call.
Sloane said quickly, “There’s something you need to know.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Grant wants you to sign something at his birthday.”
“What?”
“I don’t know exactly. He said there would be an announcement regarding Meridian’s restructuring and you’d sign family-consent papers.”
Charlotte’s stomach tightened.
“What family-consent papers?”
“He said once you signed, everything would be clean before June.”
Clean.
Before the wedding.
Charlotte said softly, “Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me?”
“Because you may have just prevented me from walking into a trap.”
Sloane’s voice cracked. “I didn’t know.”
“That sentence only works for some things.”
“I know.”
Charlotte ended the call.
Mara moved immediately. Meridian had no scheduled restructuring. But Samuel Price found draft documents prepared by Westbridge counsel. They would have Charlotte acknowledge a reorganization of certain Westbridge subsidiaries, including Westbridge Twelve—the owner of Perry Street. Buried in the schedules was language reducing Meridian’s protective approval rights over affiliated asset transfers.
“If you signed,” Samuel said, “Grant could transfer Perry Street out of Westbridge without Meridian consent.”
“To himself?”
“Or another entity.”
“Sloane.”
“Possibly.”
“He was going to get me to legalize the theft at his birthday party.”
Samuel’s face hardened. “Your husband seems to have mistaken marriage for internal compliance.”
Charlotte smiled. “Among other things.”
Samuel was seventy, silver-haired, and had known Charlotte since childhood. He treated her inheritance seriously in ways Grant never had.
“Do you want us to cancel the restructuring presentation?”
“No.”
“Charlotte.”
“Let him bring the documents.”
Mara said, “Why?”
“Because I want witnesses to exactly what he asks me to sign.”
On the evening of the party, Charlotte wore a black velvet gown with emerald jewelry inherited from her grandmother. Not because of Sloane. She chose emerald because Grant once told her it made her look dangerous.
At the Meridian Crown, chandeliers glowed over gold-paneled walls. A jazz quartet played near the bar. Grant arrived to applause, delighted.
“You did all this?”
Charlotte kissed his cheek.
“You told me to surprise you.”
Sloane arrived twenty minutes later in an ivory satin dress.
Bridal.
Either unintentionally or not.
Grant’s face softened when he saw her.
Charlotte noticed.
So did half the room.
At nine, Grant gave a speech thanking his parents, his business partners, and Charlotte.
“My wife has been the steady center of everything.”
Charlotte almost admired the sentence.
Then he announced a “strategic family realignment” intended to position Westbridge for its next decade.
There it was.
A lawyer carried documents toward Charlotte.
Samuel Price remained expressionless.
Mara stood near the bar.
Sloane had gone pale.
Grant smiled.
“Charlotte, this is mostly administrative. Just a few signatures.”
Charlotte took the folder.
She opened it.
Pretended to read.
Grant shifted impatiently.
“You can review details later.”
Charlotte looked up.
“No.”
His smile remained.
“No?”
“I’ll review them now.”
The room became quieter.
“Charlotte, people are waiting.”
“They can wait.”
Grant lowered his voice.
“Don’t embarrass me.”
There it was.
Not Please.
Not What worries you?
Don’t embarrass me.
Charlotte closed the folder.
“I won’t sign.”
Grant’s smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Because these documents would help you steal a company-owned townhouse.”
Shock moved through nearby guests.
Grant went still.
Sloane covered her mouth.
Charlotte raised her hand toward the service staff.
The silver cart rolled forward.
Black velvet covered it.
Grant stared.
“What is this?”
Charlotte took the cloth.
“Your birthday gift.”
She pulled.
Twelve ivory plates appeared.
Beside them lay one cream envelope.
Sloane recognized the plates immediately.
Grant did not.
Charlotte picked up the envelope and handed it to him.
“Open it.”
His fingers shook.
Inside was the registry note.
Enjoy the plates. You’ll need them for serving him divorce papers.
Grant’s face turned white.
Charlotte lifted her champagne.
“Happy birthday.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Sloane whispered, “Grant… she knows.”
May you like
Charlotte smiled.
“That is the first accurate thing anyone has said tonight.”
