Arthur adjusted his glasses.
“Miss Prescott is the majority shareholder’s daughter, an authorized executive director, and the representative appointed by Chairman Paul Prescott to oversee this investigation. Every action taken today has been approved through the proper corporate channels.”
Catherine stared at him.
Then she looked at my father, who had just entered the room.
“Paul?”
My father didn’t answer immediately.
He walked to the head of the table, placed his leather briefcase on the chair, and looked at every person sitting there.
“Good afternoon.”
Nobody responded.
He turned toward Catherine.
“I believe you heard my daughter.”
Anthony suddenly stood.
“Mr. Prescott, this is getting ridiculous. We can discuss this privately.”
My father looked at him.
“Privately? Anthony, you had five years to discuss things privately. You chose to use my company’s money, my daughter’s trust, and my family’s reputation to build your own little kingdom.”
Anthony’s jaw tightened.
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“It is.”
My father opened his briefcase.
“And I have serious documents.”
He placed three folders on the table.
The first contained employment records.
The second contained vendor contracts.
The third contained financial transactions.
Catherine glanced at them and immediately looked away.
I noticed.
So did my father.
“Interesting,” he said. “You haven’t even opened them.”
Catherine folded her arms.
“I don’t need to. I know exactly how this company operates.”
“No,” I replied. “You know how you made it operate while nobody was watching.”
Anthony pointed at me.
“Enough. Eleanor, you’re making a terrible mistake. You think you can walk in here and destroy everything I’ve built?”
I leaned forward.
“Everything you built?”
I opened the second folder.
“Let’s start with Miller Strategic Consulting.”
Anthony’s expression changed.
The company had been established three years earlier.
It was registered under the name of his cousin, Daniel Miller.
On paper, it provided management consulting services to Prescott Holdings.
In reality, it had received millions of dollars through contracts approved by people related to Anthony.
“Do you recognize this company?” I asked.
Anthony said nothing.
I continued.
“Over three years, Prescott Holdings paid this firm for consulting services that were either incomplete, overpriced, or never delivered.”
Daniel shifted in his chair.
“That is completely false.”
Arthur placed another document in front of him.
“Then perhaps you can explain why your company invoiced Prescott Holdings for services provided by employees who were already receiving salaries from Prescott Holdings.”
Daniel swallowed.
Nobody laughed.
I turned toward Catherine.
“And your department approved those payments.”
She slammed her palm against the table.
“I was doing my job!”
“Then you won’t mind cooperating with the investigation.”
Her face went pale.
My father finally spoke.
“Effective immediately, all relevant financial records are being preserved. Independent auditors will review the contracts, and no employee under investigation will have authority to alter company records.”
Anthony looked around the room.
He was searching for support.
For five years, he had been surrounded by people who nodded whenever he spoke.
Today, nobody moved.
Then he made his biggest mistake.
He laughed.
“You think this is over? You think removing a few people will fix anything? I’ve got people in this company you don’t even know about.”
I smiled.
“Thank you.”
He frowned.
“For what?”
“For confirming why we need an independent investigation.”
Leonard stepped forward.
“Mr. Miller, your access has been suspended. You’ll need to leave the executive floor.”
Anthony looked at my father.
“You’re allowing this?”
My father stared at him.
“You were welcomed into this family. You were trusted with my daughter’s happiness. You were given a position in my company. And you repaid that trust by treating both like things you could steal.”
Anthony’s face twisted.
“You never liked me.”
My father nodded.
“Perhaps I saw something you refused to admit.”
Then he looked at Leonard.
“Please escort him out.”
Anthony pushed his chair backward.
“You’ll regret this, Eleanor!”
I didn’t move.
“Anthony, I regretted marrying you. I won’t regret ending it.”
Two security officers accompanied him toward the door.
Christina was not in the boardroom, but Anthony’s phone began ringing repeatedly.
He ignored it.
As he reached the doorway, he turned around one last time.
“You have no idea what Catherine knows.”
My eyes moved toward my former mother-in-law.
For the first time that afternoon, she looked genuinely frightened.
The doors closed.
And the room remained silent.
I thought the hardest part was over.
I was wrong.
Because when Arthur gathered the documents, he found a small envelope tucked inside the third folder.
It had no company logo.
No official stamp.
Only my name.
ELEANOR PRESCOTT.
My father noticed my expression.
“What is it?”
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed my father standing outside a hospital five years earlier.
Beside him was a woman I recognized immediately.
My mother.
But she had died eleven years ago.
I turned the photograph over.
There was a handwritten sentence.
Ask your father what really happened before Anthony joined the company.
My hands went cold.
I looked at my father.
“Dad?”
He stared at the photograph.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he closed his eyes.
“Eleanor,” he whispered, “there is something about your mother’s estate that I should have told you a long time ago.”
And suddenly, the divorce wasn’t the biggest secret in the room.
PART 3 – THE SECRET MY FATHER HID FOR ELEVEN YEARS
I followed my father into his private office.
He closed the door.
For the first time since I had entered Prescott Holdings that afternoon, he looked less like a chairman and more like the man who used to sit beside my bed when I had nightmares.
He took off his glasses.
“Sit down, sweetheart.”
I remained standing.
“Tell me what happened.”
He looked at the photograph.
“Your mother established a private family trust shortly before she died. She wanted to make sure that your future was protected, regardless of what happened to the company.”
I frowned.
“I know about the trust.”
“No. You know about the property and the investment accounts. You don’t know about the controlling interest.”
My stomach tightened.
“What controlling interest?”
He opened a drawer and removed a thick blue folder.
“Your mother owned shares in Prescott Holdings through a separate trust. After her death, those shares were placed under temporary administration until you reached the age specified in her estate documents.”
I stared at him.
“How many shares?”
“Enough to make your position in this company much stronger than Anthony ever understood.”
I sat down slowly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted you to have a life outside this building. Your mother wanted that too.”
I looked at him.
“And Anthony?”
My father sighed.
“Anthony discovered the existence of the trust during his second year here. He began asking questions about your mother’s estate. At first, I thought he was simply curious.”
“And then?”
“Then he started suggesting that you transfer some of your voting rights to him.”
I remembered.
Anthony had once told me that a married couple should make financial decisions together.
He had said it was inconvenient for the family company to have complicated ownership arrangements.
I had trusted him.
I had nearly signed the documents.
“Did you stop me?”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me what he was trying to do?”
“Because I didn’t have enough evidence. And because you were in love with him.”
I covered my mouth.
My father continued.
“After that, I quietly instructed our legal advisers to monitor any attempt to alter the trust. Your mother had left very clear instructions. Those shares were yours. Nobody could take them without your authorization and the required legal approvals.”
I stared at the folder.
All those years, Anthony had been working inside a company whose most important ownership documents he didn’t fully understand.
He had married me believing he could eventually control everything.
But there was something else.
“Dad, who sent me that photograph?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
You should be careful. Catherine isn’t the person you need to worry about.
Another message followed.
Meet me tonight. I have proof that Anthony didn’t act alone.
