Chapter 6 - The SignatureThe son who said he was protecting his mother
Naomi refused to believe it.
For twenty minutes, she sat in the conference room studying the signature.
Scott Mercer.
The ink was electronic.
The date was September.
Three months before the Christmas incident.
The document gave authorization for representation in a dispute involving Clear Path's foundational methodology.
The attorney explained the technical language.
Naomi barely heard it.
“Why would he sign this?”
Mitchell answered.
“Because someone told him it was not ownership.”
Naomi turned toward him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You suspected?”
“I suspected family pressure.”
“From Arthur?”
Mitchell didn't answer.
The attorney did.
“Yes.”
Naomi looked at Nina.
“Did Scott know what he was signing?”
Nina shook her head.
“We don't know.”
“What do you know?”
“That he signed a document claiming he was acting to preserve a potential inheritance interest.”
Naomi stared.
“Inheritance.”
The word tasted bitter.
Her son had not understood what Clear Path was.
But he had understood that it might be worth money.
Or perhaps someone had taught him to understand that.
The lawyer opened another folder.
“There is more.”
“Of course.”
“We traced the legal communications.”
“To Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“And Lauren?”
“Yes.”
Naomi's eyes narrowed.
“What exactly did Lauren do?”
“We believe she transmitted internal information.”
“What information?”
“Pilot results.”
Naomi went pale.
“The Idaho numbers?”
“Yes.”
“The Nebraska school reports?”
“Yes.”
“Our development roadmap?”
“Yes.”
“Who did she send them to?”
The lawyer hesitated.
“Northstar.”
Naomi leaned back.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she asked:
“Do you have proof?”
“Yes.”
He slid a printed email toward her.
The sender address belonged to Lauren.
The recipient was a Northstar executive.
The subject line:
What Naomi Doesn't Know Yet
Naomi read the first paragraph.
She stopped.
Lauren had written:
She thinks they're only interested in acquisition. They're actually interested in the adaptation engine.
The next sentence hurt more.
Scott believes the family will eventually benefit from whatever she gets.
Naomi folded her hands.
She felt strangely calm.
That frightened Nina.
“Naomi?”
“I'm fine.”
“You don't look fine.”
“I spent thirty-five years teaching adolescents how to recognize evidence.”
She looked at the email.
“This is evidence.”
There was one sentence at the bottom.
If you need anything else, I can get it through Scott.
Naomi looked at the signature.
Lauren.
Her daughter-in-law.
The woman who had stood behind her son and told Naomi she made everyone uncomfortable.
Naomi closed the folder.
“Call Scott.”
“He won't answer.”
“Call anyway.”
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then voicemail.
Naomi left a message.
“Scott, this is your mother. I'm not calling to yell at you. I'm calling because I need you to hear one thing.”
She paused.
“I know.”
Then she hung up.
An hour later, Scott appeared at the office.
He looked exhausted.
Naomi watched him enter.
He had been her little boy once.
The same child who had fallen asleep on her chest during thunderstorms.
The same child she had driven to soccer practice in freezing rain.
The same child who had called her from college because he couldn't understand his chemistry homework.
Now he stood in front of her like a stranger.
“Did you sign it?”
Scott closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“By challenging my company?”
“I wasn't challenging ownership.”
“You signed a claim.”
“I know.”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you understand it?”
“No.”
Naomi laughed once.
“Then why did you sign it?”
Scott looked at the floor.
“Because Dad said if I didn't, everything would go to strangers.”
Naomi's face changed.
“Your father?”
“He said the company was partly Grandpa's intellectual legacy.”
“Did he tell you that Richard had a role?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I didn't know.”
“You could have asked me.”
Scott's eyes filled.
“You never told me anything.”
Naomi's expression hardened.
“I told you for years.”
“No. You told me about teaching.”
“That was my life.”
“You never told me what you were building.”
“Because every time I talked about it, you smiled like I was playing a game.”
Scott flinched.
“You said there were thousands of platforms like it.”
He looked away.
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
Naomi sat down.
“Why didn't you come back the next morning?”
“What?”
“When you uninvited me from Christmas.”
Scott swallowed.
“Lauren told me not to.”
Naomi stared at him.
“Why?”
“She said you would use Christmas to manipulate us.”
Naomi almost laughed.
“Manipulate you into what?”
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
He couldn't meet her eyes.
“You wanted something.”
Scott's voice became barely audible.
“I wanted you to tell me what you were worth.”
Silence.
There it was.
The truth.
Not ambition.
Not concern.
Money.
Naomi nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
Scott looked confused.
“For what?”
“For finally saying it.”
She stood.
“Go home.”
“Mom…”
“Go.”
He walked to the door.
Before leaving, he turned.
“There is one thing you need to know.”
Naomi waited.
“Arthur wasn't the person who contacted Jonathan Vale.”
“Then who was?”
Scott's face went pale.
“I don't know.”
“But you know someone did.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Scott whispered:
“Your father's executor.”
Naomi frowned.
“My father's executor is dead.”
Scott shook his head.
“No.”
“He died with my father.”
“No, Mom.”
Scott looked at her.
“The executor is alive.”
“And he's been trying to reach you.”
“Why?”
“Because he says Grandpa left a message.”
Naomi felt the room go cold.
“What message?”
Scott opened the door.
“He said, ‘Tell Naomi never to trust the person who benefits when she thinks she's finally won.’”
Then he left.
Naomi stood alone.
May you like
And for the first time, the $184.7 million no longer felt like an ending.
It felt like bait.
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