The directive came directly from Oliver, flagged as highest priority. That seems unusual timing, I observed, just before introducing new ownership. It's more than unusual, Amelia. It's alarming.
Marcus leaned forward, lowering his voice despite us being alone in the house. The transfer protocols aren't consistent with our security standards, and the destination isn't our regular backup system. It's an external server with minimal encryption. My breath caught.
He's extracting the intellectual property. Marcus's eyes widened at my immediate comprehension. You understand what this means? I believe so.
I kept my voice calm despite the anger building inside me. He's preparing to transfer Bradford's most valuable assets, your designs, patents, proprietary processes, to a separate entity before the ownership transition completes. Exactly. Relief washed over Marcus's features at being understood.
We'd lose everything that makes the company valuable. Just empty buildings and equipment remaining, while the intellectual property, the true value, would be controlled elsewhere. By Oliver, I presume. The brazenness of the scheme was breathtaking.
Not content with undervaluing the company and stealing my share, Oliver was now planning to gut Bradford Precision's most valuable assets before the official transfer to Monarch Holdings, to me. When did this directive come through? I asked, mind racing through implications. Yesterday afternoon, Marcus hesitated.
Shortly after Oliver left your house, according to the timestamp. So, that was his contingency plan. If he couldn't control the estate and company through legal means, he would simply steal the intellectual property that gave Bradford Precision its true value. Have you begun the transfers?
I asked. Marcus straightened, professional pride evident in his posture. No, I implemented a technical delay, claimed system incompatibilities that need resolving. It bought us until tomorrow afternoon.
Us? I questioned. The core engineering team. His expression hardened.
We've worked with your husband for decades, Mrs. Blackwood. We know something isn't right. The valuation numbers Oliver shared with us don't match our project portfolios.
The pension fund reports have discrepancies, and now this rushed transfer of proprietary information. You've been watching, I realized, all this time. Richard treated us like family, Marcus said simply. We owe him better than silence while his company is dismantled.
Family. The words struck me with unexpected force. While Oliver, actual family, had been systematically betraying his father's legacy, these employees had been quietly standing guard over it. Marcus, what I'm about to tell you must remain confidential until tomorrow's board meeting, I said, making a split-second decision to trust this man, whom Richard had respected so deeply.