Chapter 4 - THE FAMILY BUSINESS
“Why did your mother have samples of my signature?”
Nathan stood in the kitchen doorway when I came downstairs.
I held up the email.
All the color left his face.
“Where did you find that?”
“Upstairs. In a box under my mother's coat.”
He reached toward the paper.
I moved it away.
“Answer me.”
Nathan stared at the attachment name.
“Emily, that was an old discussion. Nothing came of it.”
“Nothing? Someone produced a document claiming I sold my business on the day my mother was buried.”
He pressed his palms against the counter.
“I wasn't thinking clearly then.”
“Three years ago?”
“I was under pressure.”
“From whom?”
He didn't answer.
I looked at the email again.
“Who is Martin Vale?”
“A consultant.”
“What kind?”
“Corporate restructuring.”
“And what does your mother have to do with my medical authorization?”
Nathan's face hardened.
“Mom was trying to help.”
I could barely believe what I was hearing.
“Help whom?”
He looked down.
That was answer enough.
I had signed a limited medical authorization three years earlier when I was scheduled for outpatient surgery.
Nathan had been my emergency contact.
I remembered Margaret offering to help organize our paperwork afterward.
She'd called it the responsible thing to do.
Had she copied those documents?
Had someone taken my signature from them?
I couldn't prove it.
Not yet.
But the possibility made me feel physically ill.
Nathan walked toward me.
“Emily, I know how this looks.”
“No. You know what you did. I'm the one still finding out.”
His voice rose.
“You think running a company is easy? You get to work on beautiful interiors while I have to deal with banks, payroll, clients, and investors.”
I stared at him.
“I have twelve employees. I know exactly what payroll feels like.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Your little studio doesn't operate at the level mine does.”
There it was again.
Little.
The same word his mother had used.
Something about it hurt worse coming from Nathan.
I had supported him when his first consulting partnership dissolved.
I had used savings intended for our honeymoon to cover an unexpected payroll shortage.
I had reviewed his presentations late at night when he was too tired to think.
And somewhere along the way, he'd started believing my work was small because he'd found a way to profit from it.
“Do you know what my mother told me before I married you?” I asked.
He looked confused.
“She said never trust someone who needs you to be less successful so they can feel important.”
Nathan's jaw tightened.
“That's unfair.”
“Maybe. But I'm beginning to understand her.”
I placed the paper in my bag and walked out.
This time, he didn't follow.
At the office, Sarah had already secured our internal accounts with the help of the IT company.
They had preserved a record of the administrator access.
Nathan's credentials had been used repeatedly.
The activity wasn't limited to invoices.
Files had been downloaded.
Client lists exported.
Presentations copied.
And a folder containing employee salaries had been accessed the previous Friday.
“Why would he need our salary information?” I asked.
Sarah looked worried.
“I don't know.”
Neither did I.
But I remembered Carter Creative's website listing our studio as an acquired division.
If Nathan intended to move staff into his company, he might be planning to approach them directly.
I gathered everyone in the conference room.
There were eleven faces looking back at me.
Designers.
Project coordinators.
An intern who had joined us only a month earlier.
People with families, mortgages, and plans that depended on receiving their paychecks.
I told them the truth I could establish.
“Someone has been representing that our company was sold. It was not. I'm working with counsel to protect our business, but I want you to hear this directly from me.”
Our senior designer, Lily, raised her hand.
“Are we losing our jobs?”
“No.”
I paused.
“I can't promise there won't be complications. But I will not make decisions about your livelihoods without telling you.”
Lily nodded.
Sarah looked relieved.
Then our project architect, Ben, spoke.
“Nathan offered me a job last month.”
The room became very quiet.
“What kind of job?” I asked.
“He said the studio was merging into Carter Creative. He offered me a department director title and a higher salary.”
“Did you accept?”
“No. I told him I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
“Why didn't you?”
Ben looked embarrassed.
“Nathan said you were sensitive about being seen as the smaller partner. He asked me not to upset you before the announcement.”
I leaned against the table.
Nathan had used my pride against me.
He'd made ordinary loyalty seem like something people needed to hide.
I thanked Ben for telling me.
Afterward, Sarah followed me into my office.
“Emily, you should look at the employee benefits proposal Nathan sent last spring.”
“Why?”
“Because it listed his company as the plan sponsor for our staff.”
I remembered the proposal.
Nathan had suggested that combining health insurance coverage might lower our costs.
I had declined because his financial reports were incomplete.
Sarah found the email.
Attached was an organizational chart.
At the top: Carter Creative Holdings.
Underneath: three divisions.
Consulting.
Design.
Property Development.
My company's name appeared under Design.
And beside it was a small notation:
Integration pending — November.
That date was only three weeks away.
I forwarded the document to Daniel.
Within an hour, he arranged a meeting with representatives from Hartwell Properties.
Their chief development officer, Caroline Price, knew me personally.
We had worked together on three projects.
She looked confused when I explained that my company hadn't been sold.
“Emily, Nathan showed us an acquisition agreement.”
“I know.”
“He said you were taking a reduced role.”
“I haven't agreed to any reduced role.”
Caroline folded her hands.
“He also said you were struggling personally.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“He said you were overwhelmed after your mother's death. That you had trouble managing finances and might step away.”
My mother's death.
Again.
Nathan had been using my grief as a business explanation.
Caroline looked genuinely troubled.
“I wouldn't have accepted that without questions if I'd known you disputed it.”
I believed her.
Mostly.
But I was beginning to understand how readily people accepted explanations from confident men in expensive suits.
She opened a folder.
“There's something else you should know. The redevelopment project in Seaport wasn't awarded to Carter Creative because of Nathan's consulting work.”
I looked up.
“Why was it awarded?”
“Because the investment committee wanted your design portfolio.”
She slid a printed presentation across the table.
On the cover was one of my earliest projects.
A restored neighborhood library.
Under the photograph were the words:
A Carter Creative Original.
I remembered that library.
My mother's print shop had produced the first fundraising posters for it.
She'd been so proud when the building reopened that she'd cried in the parking lot.
I touched the photograph.
Caroline continued quietly.
“The committee specifically requested that you remain involved.”
I looked at her.
“Did Nathan agree?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because he said you had already approved the arrangement.”
The answer frightened me more than I expected.
Nathan wasn't just collecting money.
He was constructing a version of my life in which my consent could be assumed.
Caroline hesitated.
“Emily, the bank is scheduled to release the next construction funding tranche Friday.”
“Based on the acquisition?”
“In part.”
“How much?”
“Three million dollars.”
I swallowed.
“Can it be stopped?”
“We've notified our legal team. I can't promise what the lenders will do.”
Then she reached into her folder and removed another document.
“This is the part I think you need to understand.”
It was a loan guarantee.
Nathan's signature appeared on the last page.
Beneath it was a second signature.
Margaret Carter.
Caroline pointed to a handwritten notation.
“His mother pledged her Brookline house as additional collateral.”
I stared at the page.
Margaret hadn't just helped Nathan claim ownership of my business.
She had risked her own home on that claim.
Then Caroline turned to the final page.
“And according to this, Nathan has already received an advance of $1.2 million.”
I looked at the distribution record.
The receiving account belonged to Carter Creative Holdings.
But the payment instructions had been authorized by a person whose name I recognized.
Vanessa Reed.
Beside her signature was a transfer description.
PERSONAL SETTLEMENT — M. CARTER.
Margaret's house had been put at risk.
May you like
Nathan's mistress controlled the money.
And someone had been paid to keep something quiet.
