Chapter 5 - THE FROZEN ASSETS
The transition from Manhattan royalty to a corporate pariah happened in less than seventy-two hours.
By Tuesday morning, the scandal had completely devoured the financial news cycle. Cable networks replayed the Plaza Hotel footage on endless loops: Dominic standing over his shattered glass, Evelyn being escorted into a federal sedan, and the infamous moment Isabelle’s ten-carat diamond skittered across the marble floor. The hashtag #ReedDynastyFraud was trending globally.
I sat in the quiet conference room of a modest legal firm in downtown Brooklyn, far away from the glass-and-steel monolith of Reed Technologies in Midtown. Outside, an autumn rain lashed against the windows, streaking the glass with gray ribbons of water.
In the corner of the room, on a soft wool blanket spread over the carpet, Leo and Maya were playing with a set of wooden blocks. Leo was chewing thoughtfully on the corner of a square block, while Maya was attempting to stack two circular ones, her tiny brow furrowed with pure concentration. Watching them, completely oblivious to the hundreds of millions of dollars resting on their tiny shoulders, filled me with an overwhelming sense of protective calm.
The door opened, and Arthur Vance entered, accompanied by an attorney I knew well: Elena Ramos, my former college roommate who had spent the last decade building a reputation as one of the most tenacious forensic trust lawyers in the state.
Elena set down two steaming cardboard cups of coffee and smiled warmly, pulling me into a fierce, grounding embrace. "You look tired, Norah, but you look whole."
"I am whole, Elena," I said, managing a faint smile. "Just waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Arthur Vance pulled out a leather chair, hanging his wet trench coat over the back before opening a fresh manila folder. "The preliminary injunction was upheld in court this morning. Evelyn Reed's bail was set at five million dollars, secured against her personal real estate holdings. But she can’t touch a single dollar from the trust, and the state has placed a monitor on every account associated with Reed Technologies."
"And Dominic?" I asked, my voice steady.
"Dominic is drowning," Elena answered, opening her laptop and spinning it toward me. "The Reed Technologies board met at dawn. They invoked the morals clause in his executive employment contract. He has been suspended indefinitely as CEO without compensation, pending the outcome of the federal fraud investigation."
On the screen was a live feed of the Reed Technologies headquarters. Dominic had just been swarmed by reporters on the sidewalk outside the revolving doors. He looked completely unraveled—his tie askew, his hair unbrushed, dark purple circles bruising the skin beneath his amber eyes. He was shouting at the cameras, his voice muffled by the microphone wind-guards, insisting that he was the victim of a coordinated family conspiracy.
"He tried to access the corporate jet yesterday afternoon to fly to Zurich," Vance added, taking a sip of his coffee. "Federal marshals revoked his passport at Teterboro Airport. He isn't going anywhere."
"What about the voting shares?" I asked, looking down at the children on the floor. "Thomas’s codicil... is it legally binding?"
Elena clicked a button on her keyboard, bringing up a scanned document bearing a raised court seal from 1984. "It’s ironclad, Norah. Richard Reed was a brilliant engineer, but he was also deeply paranoid about his wife’s greed. He knew Evelyn would eventually try to strip the foundation. He wrote this codicil in his own hand, had it witnessed by two Supreme Court justices of New York, and deposited it into a blind trust managed by an independent fiduciary firm in Boston. When Thomas produced the original yesterday, the probate judge authenticated the ink within two hours."
She paused, looking at me with serious, compassionate eyes. "As legal guardian of Leo and Maya, you now hold the voting majority for forty-two percent of Reed Technologies. Combined with Thomas’s recovered shares, you effectively control the company."
The magnitude of her words pressed down on me like physical weight. A year ago, I was counting pennies to buy generic prenatal vitamins at a 24-hour pharmacy, wondering how I would pay the heating bill for my cramped one-bedroom apartment. Now, I held the fate of thousands of employees and the legacy of the man who had cast me aside.
A soft knock at the conference door broke my reverie. The receptionist stepped in, looking nervous. "Ms. Matthews? There is a woman in the lobby asking to see you. She... she doesn't have an appointment, but she says it’s urgent. She’s very upset."
Elena frowned. "Is it press?"
"No," the receptionist whispered. "It's Isabelle Montgomery. Dominic’s wife."
Elena and Arthur exchanged quick, guarded glances. "Do you want us to have security escort her out?" Elena asked gently.
I looked at the conference room door, then over at Maya, who had successfully stacked her two wooden blocks and was clapping her hands in silent delight. "No," I said, standing up. "Show her in."
A minute later, Isabelle stepped into the room. She looked nothing like the polished, immaculate debutante who had sneered at me from the society pages. She was wearing an oversized beige trench coat, flat shoes, and no makeup. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, and she held a damp tissue crushed in her left hand. The absence of the giant diamond ring left a pale, unmistakable indentation on her ring finger.
She stopped just inside the doorway, her breath hitching when she saw the babies on the floor.
"Norah," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I know I have no right to be here."
"Sit down, Isabelle," I said gently, pulling out a chair at the far end of the table. "Arthur, Elena, could you give us ten minutes, please?"
Elena hesitated, but Arthur nodded, picking up his coffee and gesturing for Elena to follow. As they left, closing the door softly behind them, Isabelle sank into the chair, burying her face in her hands. The ragged sound of her weeping filled the quiet room.
I didn't offer empty platitudes. I walked over to the side credenza, poured a glass of cold water, and set it down in front of her. I sat in the adjacent chair, waiting patiently until her breath slowed.
"He told me you were vindictive," Isabelle whispered finally, wiping her nose with the shred of tissue. "He told me you tried to trap him with false pregnancies, that you blackmailed him during the divorce, and that you hated children. He made you sound like a monster, Norah. And I... God, I believed every word he said because I wanted to believe he loved me."
"Dominic has spent his entire life learning how to sell illusions, Isabelle," I replied, my voice devoid of bitterness. "He was trained by an expert."
Isabelle looked up, her gaze shifting to the twins. Little Leo had rolled onto his stomach, looking up at the newcomer with wide, curious eyes. Isabelle’s hand moved instinctively to her own rounded belly, resting there protectively.
"I went to my father’s house yesterday," she said, her voice dropping to a fragile whisper. "My father is one of the primary venture capitalists on the Reed Tech board. When he saw the news, he told me I had to terminate my pregnancy."
My heart stopped. A cold spike of fury hit my spine. "What?"
"He said the Reed name is completely ruined," Isabelle sobbed, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. "He said having a child with Dominic now would tie our family to a convicted fraudster for the next twenty years. He told me he would cut me off without a dime if I didn't get an abortion and sign an annulment paper by Friday."
She looked at me, her young face stripped of all vanity, exposing only the raw terror of a twenty-four-year-old girl whose golden cage had just collapsed around her.
"I don't know what to do, Norah," she cried softly. "I don't love Dominic anymore—I hate him for what he did to you, and what he lied to me about. But this baby... this baby didn't do anything wrong. I don't want to get rid of my child."
I looked at her—the woman who had replaced me, the woman whose lavish baby shower was meant to be the final nail in my coffin. And in that moment, I didn't see an enemy. I saw another victim of the Reed family meat grinder.
May you like
I reached across the table and covered her trembling hand with mine.
"You aren't getting rid of your baby, Isabelle," I said firmly, my voice leaving no room for doubt. "And your father isn't going to touch you. Because tomorrow morning, you and I are going to walk into the Reed Technologies shareholder meeting together."
