Mom, you're upset. Grief can make people paranoid. See conspiracies. Not paranoia, Oliver.
Clarity. I moved toward the door. I believe Ms. Hargrove has waited long enough.
Please inform her that the house will not be sold after all. This isn't over, he warned, his voice low. You have no idea what you're getting involved in. On the contrary, I replied, opening the door.
For the first time in decades, I know exactly what I'm involved in. I'll see you Friday at the board meeting. Do give my regards to Elizabeth Windsor when you speak with her. As Oliver and a visibly confused Vanessa departed, I allowed myself a moment of quiet satisfaction.
The shock in my son's eyes when I mentioned Elizabeth Windsor, the fictitious owner of Monarch Holdings, confirmed what Jonathan and I had suspected. Oliver had never bothered to investigate the company purchasing Bradford Precision Technologies. His greed and haste had blinded him to even basic due diligence. I returned to Richard's desk and picked up our wedding photograph, tracing the outline of his younger face through the glass.
The first move is complete, I whispered to his image. He suspects something's wrong, but he has no idea what's coming. In 2 days, Oliver would discover exactly who he had been negotiating with all these months. He would learn that his mother was not the decorative corporate wife he had dismissed, but a woman with both the intellect and the resolve to protect what mattered, even from her own son.
And perhaps most painfully, he would finally understand that Richard had known everything.
He's been making inquiries, Jonathan informed me over the phone Thursday morning. Urgent ones. Three calls to the Monarch Holdings office yesterday afternoon. Multiple requests for direct contact with Elizabeth Windsor.
I sipped my tea, standing at the kitchen window where weak spring sunshine illuminated the garden. Richard's prized roses were beginning to bud, a reminder that life continued its cycles regardless of human drama. What response did he receive? Exactly what we planned.
His calls were professionally fielded by the service with assurances that Ms. Windsor is traveling, but looks forward to meeting everyone at tomorrow's board introduction. Jonathan's voice held a note of satisfaction. He also contacted three separate law firms specializing in estate litigation.
Moving quickly, I observed. He knows something is wrong, but not what. Precisely. He's scrambling without direction.
Jonathan paused. Amelia, are you certain you want to go through with this? Once tomorrow's meeting begins, there's no turning back. The question gave me pause.