Chapter 14 - The Christmas Morning They RegrettedWhen the family came knocking, Naomi finally opened the door
Scott arrived in Portland four hours later.
He looked destroyed.
His hair was wet.
His jacket was soaked.
He stood on Naomi's porch, breathing hard.
“Where's Lauren?”
“Gone.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“What happened?”
“She took the car.”
“Which car?”
“She took mine.”
Naomi stepped aside.
Scott entered.
He looked around the house.
The Christmas tree.
The lights.
The gifts still wrapped.
The same room where he had spent Christmases since childhood.
He started crying.
“I am sorry.”
Naomi closed the door.
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“Yes.”
“I should have come back.”
“You should have asked.”
“I was afraid.”
“You were.”
“I thought if I kept everyone calm, nothing would collapse.”
Naomi looked at him.
“Everything collapsed anyway.”
Scott nodded.
Then he noticed the box on the table.
“What is that?”
“Your grandfather's trust.”
He frowned.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You know now?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Naomi looked at him.
“Enough.”
Scott lowered his eyes.
“What happens to us?”
“There.”
Naomi pointed to the chair.
“That's the first question you ask again.”
Scott sat.
“I don't know how to make this right.”
“You can't.”
He looked crushed.
Naomi softened slightly.
“You can stop making it worse.”
He nodded.
“Where did Lauren go?”
“Seattle.”
“Why?”
“She called Arthur.”
Naomi's face hardened.
“She knows?”
“She knows something happened.”
Scott swallowed.
“And she knows you're in control now.”
Naomi frowned.
“In control of what?”
“Everything.”
Naomi understood.
Palisade.
Clear Path.
The trust.
The acquisition.
Lauren had realized the family could no longer pressure Naomi through money.
So she was running.
But toward whom?
That answer came when Naomi's phone rang.
Meridian.
“Naomi, we need you at the closing room.”
“Why?”
“Lauren has been located.”
“Where?”
“In our office.”
Naomi froze.
“What?”
“She came here voluntarily.”
“Why?”
“She's asking for you.”
Naomi drove to Seattle with Scott.
They arrived at 10:03 p.m.
Lauren sat in a conference room.
No makeup.
No coat.
She looked exhausted.
Naomi entered alone.
Lauren stood.
“I know you hate me.”
“I don't hate you.”
“You should.”
Naomi sat.
“Tell me where the money came from.”
Lauren looked down.
“My father.”
“No.”
Lauren frowned.
“You're wrong.”
“The payment came from Palisade.”
Lauren's eyes widened.
“I didn't know that.”
“You forged Samuel's authorization.”
Lauren shook her head.
“No.”
“Your image is on the footage.”
“I didn't forge anything.”
“Then explain.”
Lauren's hands trembled.
“I went into your office.”
“Yes.”
“I copied files.”
“Yes.”
“I sent them.”
“Yes.”
“But I never touched the trust.”
Naomi studied her.
“Then who did?”
Lauren looked up.
“Jonathan.”
Naomi stared.
“Jonathan told me he could make the payment look like a consulting fee.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to prove you were hiding assets.”
“For whom?”
“Arthur.”
Naomi leaned back.
“Did Arthur know?”
“Yes.”
“Did Scott?”
“No.”
“Why did you uninvite me from Christmas?”
Lauren began crying.
“Because Jonathan said it would make you vulnerable.”
“And you believed him.”
“Yes.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
Then she asked the question that mattered.
“Who is Avery?”
Lauren went completely still.
“How do you know that name?”
“Answer me.”
Lauren whispered:
“I've never met Avery.”
“But?”
“But my father was terrified of Avery.”
“Why?”
“Because Avery owns Palisade.”
Naomi's heart tightened.
“I thought Jonathan did.”
Lauren shook her head.
“Jonathan worked for Avery.”
“Then who is Avery?”
Lauren stared at Naomi.
“I don't know.”
She reached into her bag.
Removed a photograph.
Placed it on the table.
Naomi looked down.
It showed a woman standing beside her mother.
Naomi knew the woman.
She had met her once.
At a school fundraiser.
Twenty-eight years earlier.
Her name was Evelyn Avery.
A quiet donor.
A philanthropist.
A woman who had asked Naomi unusually detailed questions about her classroom.
Lauren whispered:
“She is alive.”
Naomi stared at the photograph.
“How old?”
“Seventy-eight.”
“What does she want?”
Lauren swallowed.
“She wants Clear Path.”
Naomi looked at her.
“Why?”
Lauren shook her head.
“She says it was always meant to be hers.”
Naomi stood.
“Based on what?”
Lauren's face went pale.
“She says your mother promised it to her.”
Naomi stopped.
“My mother never knew Evelyn.”
“She did.”
“That's impossible.”
Lauren looked toward the door.
“Then why are you being watched?”
Naomi felt a chill.
A figure moved beyond the glass.
Security opened the door.
A woman stepped into the room.
Older.
Elegant.
Calm.
Silver hair.
Black coat.
Naomi knew her immediately.
Evelyn Avery.
She looked at Naomi.
Then smiled.
“Your mother would be proud.”
Naomi's blood ran cold.
“You knew her.”
Evelyn nodded.
“We built this together.”
Naomi felt the world shift.
“What?”
Evelyn placed an old photograph on the table.
It showed Naomi's mother.
Richard.
Evelyn.
And a whiteboard.
On the board was the original Clear Path architecture.
But Naomi noticed something no one else had.
A fourth name.
Written in her own handwriting.
Project Naomi.
Evelyn leaned forward.
“Your mother never intended to give you the company.”
Naomi stared.
“She intended to give you something much more dangerous.”
“What?”
May you like
Evelyn smiled.
“The truth about who your father really was.”
