Chapter 5 - SEVENTY PERCENT OF A COMPANY BUILT ON LIES
I had spent three years telling Christian that success wasn't measured by how much money a person made.
The next morning, I found myself fighting over a company worth millions.
The irony wasn't lost on me.
But this wasn't about revenge.
Nexus Tech employed eighty-six people.
Some were young software engineers with student loans. Others were parents supporting children, caregivers helping elderly relatives, or immigrants who had worked hard to establish careers in San Diego.
They had nothing to do with Christian's crimes.
And if the company's most valuable technology was transferred to a shell business, those employees might lose everything.
At 7:15 a.m., I walked into a conference room at Prescott Global Holdings with my father, our attorney Dana Kim, and two independent financial advisers.
For the first time since my wedding morning, I wasn't wearing ivory satin.
I wore black trousers, a white blouse, and a navy blazer my mother had brought from home.
My hair was pulled back.
My engagement ring was gone.
I had left it in a small envelope on my dresser.
I didn't want another reminder of promises Christian had never intended to keep.
Dana Kim was a precise, thoughtful attorney in her early forties. She had advised my family for years, but she didn't speak to me as though I were a helpless daughter being rescued by powerful parents.
She addressed me directly.
"Charlotte, your father holds the controlling voting interest in Nexus Tech as trustee. You are the beneficiary. That means you have a substantial economic interest, but it doesn't automatically make you the company's operating CEO."
"I understand."
"Martin and Christian are trying to use a proposed financing transaction and a board resolution to transfer intellectual-property rights before the shareholders can intervene."
"Can we stop it?"
"We have strong grounds to challenge the transaction. But we need to follow the proper process."
My father folded his arms.
"Martin knows the contracts better than almost anyone."
Dana nodded.
"And that may be exactly why he believes he can get away with this."
She explained that the trust held seventy percent of Nexus Tech's shares, while Christian and other investors held the remaining thirty percent.
The ownership arrangement had been carefully structured to protect the original investment.
But two years earlier, my father had authorized Martin to handle certain routine financial and administrative matters related to the investment.
Martin apparently intended to exploit that authority.
The proposed deal described Orchard Systems as a technology licensing partner.
But the company's formation records raised serious concerns.
It had no meaningful operating history.
Its listed executives were connected to businesses that had recently received suspicious payments from Nexus Tech.
And its registered agent had also handled paperwork for a company associated with Frank Duvall.
The room fell silent.
Frank.
The same man connected to the threats against Iris and the scheme involving my kidney.
"He's trying to move the patents into Frank's hands," I said.
Dana nodded.
"That's one possibility we're investigating."
I looked at my father.
"How did Martin get this close?"
William rubbed his forehead.
"Because I trusted him."
He spoke the words as though they tasted bitter.
Martin Sloan had started working for Prescott Global when the company was much smaller.
He had helped my father navigate economic downturns, negotiate acquisitions, and establish several charitable investment programs.
He had attended family vacations.
He had bought me a bicycle when I turned twelve.
When my grandfather died, Martin was one of the men who carried the coffin.
The idea that he might have helped Christian arrange my destruction was almost impossible to absorb.
Almost.
After Natalie, I was learning that familiarity wasn't proof of loyalty.
At 8:00 a.m., the emergency board meeting began by video conference.
Dana advised me not to participate directly. I remained nearby while the attorneys and designated representatives handled the corporate issues.
Through a glass wall, I could see Martin's face on the conference screen.
He wore his usual dark suit and red tie.
He looked perfectly relaxed.
When my father challenged the proposed transaction, Martin responded with practiced patience.
"William, the licensing arrangement is essential to preserve liquidity."
"Liquidity for whom?" my father demanded.
"For the company."
"You've failed to provide the financial disclosures supporting the deal."
Martin smiled.
"That's an unfair characterization."
My father leaned toward the camera.
"Then explain why Orchard Systems is connected to Frank Duvall."
Martin's expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
The corners of his mouth tightened.
"I don't recognize that name."
Dana spoke calmly.
"Then you'll have no objection to preserving the relevant records while independent counsel reviews the transaction."
Martin adjusted his glasses.
"You're making a serious mistake."
My father didn't blink.
"I already made one when I trusted you."
The meeting ended without the proposed transfer being completed.
But that didn't mean the danger was over.
Martin claimed the company had outstanding obligations that could trigger financial penalties if the deal collapsed.
Dana immediately began preparing an emergency court application to preserve the assets and records while the disputed contracts were examined.
By early afternoon, an initial court order had restricted certain transfers pending further proceedings.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt exhausted.
Christian was still missing.
Frank was still somewhere in California.
Brooklyn's brother hadn't been located.
And the people behind the conspiracy seemed to have access to companies, bank accounts, and medical information that should never have been connected.
At 3:20 p.m., Dana entered my father's office holding a folder.
"We found another transaction."
My father looked up.
"From Nexus Tech?"
"No. From Prescott Community Foundation."
The charitable foundation was one of my parents' proudest achievements.
For more than a decade, it had supported educational scholarships, community clinics, and transportation programs for patients who couldn't afford reliable access to medical care.
My mother helped organize its fundraising events.
I had volunteered there during college.
"What kind of transaction?" I asked.
"Medical transportation grants."
Dana spread several documents across the desk.
They showed a series of payments to an organization called Community Mobility Partnership.
The payments totaled more than three million dollars over several years.
On the surface, they looked ordinary.
But the money had passed through subcontractors sharing business addresses with companies associated with Frank's operation.
My father leaned over the documents.
"I approved the transportation program."
Dana nodded.
"Yes. But Martin administered the payments."
I looked at the records.
"Are you saying our foundation helped fund those vans?"
"We don't know yet. We need a full independent audit."
My mother entered the office just as Dana showed us the final authorization.
She stopped beside my father's desk.
"William?"
He didn't answer.
The document carried his handwritten signature.
A genuine signature.
My father stared at it for a long time.
Then he said something I had never heard him say before.
"I may have financed part of this without knowing what it became."
I looked at the man who had spent my entire life telling me that wealth created responsibility.
And I realized the next battle wouldn't simply be about proving Christian was a criminal.
It would be about discovering what the people in my own family had failed to see.
Dana's phone vibrated.
She read the message and went still.
"What is it?" I asked.
She looked toward my father.
"A former Nexus Tech employee just contacted our investigators."
"Who?"
"Audrey Price."
I remembered Noah clutching his stuffed dinosaur.
Dana continued.
"She says she escaped a medical facility connected to Frank."
My heart began pounding.
"Where is she?"
"Somewhere safe, according to the investigator. She's afraid to come forward."
Then Dana looked directly at me.
"Charlotte, she says there's a patient list."
I swallowed.
"What patient list?"
May you like
Dana hesitated.
"She says you're listed as Patient Eight."
