Chapter 8 - The Name on the Missing SharesRebecca ended the call and immediately requested the complete trust file.
Grant had filed a competing claim.
He had done it weeks earlier.
While telling me we couldn't afford to finish Lily's nursery, he had been trying to gain control of my inheritance.
But there was something worse.
According to the administrator, his submission included a document claiming that I had voluntarily transferred my beneficial interest to him in exchange for a settlement payment.
The settlement amount was listed as three hundred thousand dollars.
I had never received a single dollar.
“Can he do that?” I asked.
“Not lawfully without a valid transfer,” Rebecca said. “But we need to examine the documents he submitted before we can assess what happened.”
She requested copies of the signature pages.
Then she looked at the dates.
“This is interesting.”
“What?”
“The claim was filed on September eighteenth. Your husband attached an affidavit stating that you had signed the transfer in his presence on September fifteenth.”
I checked the calendar.
I had spent September fifteenth in bed with severe pregnancy-related back pain. Grant had told me he was attending an out-of-town meeting.
I remembered because I had asked him to stay.
He had kissed my forehead, promised to be home by nine, and returned after midnight smelling of expensive perfume.
Vanessa's perfume.
“I didn't sign anything that day,” I said.
“I believe you,” Rebecca replied. “Now we need independent evidence.”
Claire arrived with an update from the company's forensic accounting team.
They had traced part of the Nevada company's funds through two consulting firms connected to the Vancouver proposal. One firm had received money from a shell company that purchased restricted shipping data from an unidentified intermediary.
The other had paid Grant's company for a consulting service that didn't appear to have been performed.
“Do you have the name of the intermediary?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Claire said. “The transaction records are incomplete.”
Noah entered behind her.
“We've also confirmed that Meridian Atlantic is seeking financing for a competing port network in western Canada. The company would benefit substantially if Whitaker Global's planned expansion were delayed.”
“So Grant was selling your information to a competitor?”
“We have evidence consistent with that possibility, but we haven't established who authorized the transfers.”
“Vanessa?”
Noah placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Vanessa entering a private office building in Vancouver three days earlier.
“She has been working as a consultant for Meridian Atlantic for more than a year,” he said.
My stomach tightened.
“Grant told me she was a project coordinator.”
“He may have deliberately concealed the extent of her role.”
I recalled all the excuses. The dinners, the supposedly urgent meetings, the late-night calls. Grant had turned our marriage into a maze of half-truths.
But now there was one detail I couldn't ignore.
“Why was she helping him with a stolen shipping forecast if she already worked for the competitor?”
Noah regarded me carefully.
“That is a very good question.”
Claire opened her tablet.
“There's another issue. The account used to fund Grant's claim against your inheritance received a payment from Meridian Atlantic shortly before he filed the paperwork.”
The room fell quiet.
Grant had potentially stolen my identity, tried to seize my father's shares, and used the resulting financial structure in the same network as the confidential information.
I looked at the documents.
“What happens if I prove the claim is fraudulent?”
“The trust administrator can restore the voting rights, subject to the trust's terms and any court orders,” Rebecca explained. “We may also be able to seek an injunction against further transfers.”
“What do the voting rights control?”
Noah answered.
“Your father's trust holds a minority interest in a port-services company that predates Whitaker Global's acquisition. Its voting agreement includes protections for the trust beneficiaries.”
“Meaning?”
“Under certain circumstances, the shares can block a major transaction involving the company.”
I began to understand why Grant was so interested.
The Vancouver proposal involved a major transaction. If the trust's votes could block it, then whoever controlled those shares could influence the outcome.
“And if my shares were transferred to Grant?”
“He could attempt to use the voting rights to influence negotiations,” Noah said. “Depending on the exact structure of the agreement.”
Grant wasn't merely stealing an inheritance.
He was trying to acquire leverage over a multibillion-dollar deal.
My father had worked with machines at the port. He had never talked about corporate power. He had simply gone to work, collected his wages, and come home to fix our broken kitchen tap.
I wondered whether he had ever understood what those shares would eventually mean.
My phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID showed Vanessa Cole.
I almost declined it.
Then Rebecca gestured for me to answer with the call recorded through the proper legal process.
“Hello?”
Vanessa's voice was controlled and cool.
“Emma, I think we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“Grant has made some mistakes. You know that. But the situation is bigger than your marriage.”
“You threatened my daughter?”
“I did no such thing.”
“Someone sent me a photograph of Lily and told me to keep quiet.”
“That wasn't me.”
“Then help me identify who did.”
She was silent for a moment.
When she spoke again, her voice had changed.
“Grant told me you knew nothing about the trust. He promised the paperwork was already settled.”
“He lied to both of us.”
“Maybe.”
“Why are you working with Meridian Atlantic?”
A long pause followed.
Then Vanessa whispered, “Because Grant wasn't the person who came up with the plan.”
“Who did?”
“I can't say over the phone.”
“Then tell me in person.”
She exhaled shakily.
“Tomorrow, at six, meet me at the old ferry terminal. Come alone.”
Rebecca shook her head immediately.
I ignored the warning in Vanessa's voice and asked the only question that mattered.
“Why should I trust you?”
“Because,” she said, “Grant has a second family in Vancouver, and his son is the reason he needed your inheritance.”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone.
Grant had told me he desperately wanted a son.
He had said it was the only thing missing from our family.
May you like
Now a woman who had been sleeping with him was claiming he already had one.
And if she was telling the truth, I had no idea who my husband really was.
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