What does this have to do with you?" "Elizabeth is my middle name," I said quietly. "Windsor is my maiden name." The blood drained from Oliver's face as comprehension dawned.
"That's not possible." "Quite possible," Jonathan interjected, sliding a document toward each man. "As these incorporation papers clearly demonstrate, Monarch Holdings is solely owned and controlled by Amelia Elizabeth Blackwood, formerly Windsor." Henderson snatched up the document, scanning it with increasingly frantic movements.
"This can't be legal. The negotiations, the valuation process, were conducted with full transparency on Monarch's side," Jonathan finished smoothly. "If Mr. Blackwood chose not to investigate the purchasing entity thoroughly, that's hardly Mrs.
Blackwood's responsibility." Oliver remained frozen, the business card still clutched between his fingers as if it might somehow transform into something less damning. "You've been behind this entire process? The emails, the conference calls, the negotiations were conducted by legitimate representatives of Monarch Holdings," I confirmed, "following my explicit instructions."
"Why?" The single word seemed torn from Oliver, raw with betrayal and confusion. "Why would you do this?" Before I could answer, the boardroom door opened once more to admit Marcus Torres, accompanied by a distinguished man in his 60s whom I recognized as Harold Westfield, the board member Oliver had been counting on to support whatever emergency measures he had planned.
"Mrs. Blackwood," Westfield greeted me with evident surprise. "I didn't expect to see you here this morning." "Apparently that's the consensus," I replied with a small smile.
"Though as the new owner of Bradford Precision Technologies, I thought my presence appropriate." Westfield's eyebrows shot upward. "I beg your pardon?" "She's claiming to be behind Monarch Holdings," Oliver interjected, finally finding his voice.
"It's absurd. A misunderstanding or worse, a manipulation by Mercer to" "It's neither absurd nor a manipulation," Marcus interrupted, his normally respectful tone hardened with anger. "And there's more you all need to know before this conversation proceeds." He placed a flash drive on the table with deliberate care.
"This contains evidence of systematic intellectual property theft attempted yesterday under Oliver's direct orders. Had we complied, Bradford's most valuable assets would have been transferred to an external server under his personal control before today's ownership transition completed." Oliver surged to his feet. "That's a lie.
The transfers were standard security protocol for what?" I asked quietly. "For ensuring that after selling a hollowed-out company to Monarch Holdings, you would retain control of the patents and designs that give it actual value? The same patents and designs that weren't included in the valuation documents you provided during negotiations?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Henderson and Patterson stared at Oliver as the implications became clear. Westfield's expression had transformed from confusion to cold assessment. "Perhaps," Jonathan suggested into the silence, "we should review the complete financial evidence before the full board arrives at 10:00.
Mrs. Blackwood has some rather significant organizational changes to announce and it would be helpful if certain irregularities were addressed privately first." Oliver looked from face to face, searching for an ally and finding none. Whatever he saw in my expression finally shattered his remaining composure.