Chapter 3 - The Missing Years
I stared at the photograph until my vision blurred. I was twenty-nine in the picture. The background was a small diner in downtown Charlotte, a place I hadn't visited in over a decade. In the photo, I was looking down at Meredith with an expression of pure, unadulterated devotion.
How could I not remember this?
I rubbed my temples, a sharp ache forming behind my eyes. Ten years ago, I had been in a severe car accident. A drunk driver had T-boned my sedan on a rainy Tuesday night. I had spent three weeks in a medically induced coma. When I woke up, the doctors told me I had suffered retrograde amnesia. I had lost roughly a year of memories leading up to the crash.
At the time, David had been by my bedside. He had told me I was a workaholic, that I hadn't been seeing anyone, and that my focus had solely been on building Whitcomb Capital. I had believed him. I had rebuilt my life based on the narrative David provided.
Now, holding the photograph, the terrifying truth began to set in. David hadn't just been my partner. He had been the architect of my reality.
I looked back down at Thomas’s letter. You must protect him from David at all costs.
If Meredith had known me before the accident, if we had been in love, why hadn't she told me when we met three years ago? Why pretend to be a stranger whose family desperately needed a corporate bailout?
I grabbed the divorce papers from the entryway table and spread them out under the living room lamp. For weeks, I had barely glanced at the legal jargon, trusting the lawyers David had hired. But now, reading with a desperate, critical eye, I saw the trap.
Buried in Section 14, Subsection B, was a clause regarding my corporate assets. It stated that to liquidate the twenty million dollars for Meredith’s settlement, a temporary transfer of voting shares would be placed in a blind trust managed by the firm’s senior partner.
David.
If I signed these papers tomorrow, David would gain a 51% majority control of Whitcomb Capital. Once he had the votes, he could force me out of my own company, liquidating assets to offshore accounts before I could even file an injunction.
The twenty million wasn't for Meredith. It was the bait. And Eleanor was in on it.
A cold fury ignited in my chest. I had treated my wife like a transaction for three years, remaining emotionally distant, believing she was a gold-digger. All the while, she was carrying the weight of my forgotten past, bound by a contract with her toxic mother, and desperately trying to keep a promise to my late mentor to protect me from my best friend.
I needed answers, but confronting Meredith right now in her fragile state could cause her to retreat. I needed to know exactly what Eleanor held over her. I needed to understand the threat regarding her nephew, Leo.
I quietly walked down the hall to Eleanor’s guest suite. The door was slightly ajar. I could hear the faint murmur of her voice. She was on the phone.
I pressed my ear to the crack.
"Yes, David," Eleanor was saying. "He suspects nothing. The papers are on the table. He plans to sign them at 9:00 AM. As soon as the transfer clears, I expect my wire. And don't worry about Meredith. As long as I have legal custody of Leo, she won't breathe a word about the past. She thinks she's doing this to get the settlement money to buy Leo’s freedom from me."
Eleanor paused, letting out a dry, cruel chuckle. "She actually thinks I'm going to give her the boy. Once the twenty million hits her account, I'm taking half of it as my finder's fee, and sending the brat to boarding school in Switzerland. Meredith will be left with nothing. It’s what she deserves for trying to back out of our arrangement."
I stepped back, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached. The betrayal was staggering.
I retreated to my study, locking the door behind me. I opened my private safe and pulled out a burner phone I kept for highly sensitive corporate acquisitions. I dialed my personal lawyer, Marcus—the only man at the firm who hated David as much as I did.
"Grant?" Marcus answered, his voice thick with sleep. "It's 2 AM."
"Wake up, Marcus. I need an emergency injunction drafted by 7 AM. We are blocking a hostile takeover. I also need a private investigator to pull every record on Eleanor Vance, specifically regarding the custody of a minor named Leo Vance."
"Grant, what's going on? You're supposed to sign the divorce papers in a few hours."
"There isn't going to be a divorce," I said, staring at the old photograph of Meredith and me. "I’m going to war."
I hung up. I turned to look at the silver pocket watch again. I flipped it over. The engraving read: To my future. Love, M.
As I traced the letters, my gaze fell onto a small, folded piece of thick blue paper tucked inside the watch’s velvet lining. It looked like a ticket stub. I pulled it out and smoothed the creases.
May you like
It was a train ticket to Chicago, dated tomorrow. The passenger name was Meredith Whitcomb.
She wasn't just planning to sign the papers and take the money. She was planning to disappear from my life forever.
