Chapter 4 - THE NOTARY TRAP
The scratching of expensive fountain pens against thick legal paper echoed in the quiet boardroom. Beside me, Ashley sat perfectly still, her hands resting protectively over her swollen belly. She cast a nervous glance my way, but I squeezed her knee gently under the table to keep her calm.
“There,” my father said, capping his pen with a dramatic flourish. He slid the folder back toward Arthur. “The company is secure. The family estate is secure.”
Stephanie and my mother followed suit, practically shoving their signed documents toward the lawyer. Stephanie let out a triumphant sigh, leaning back and giving Ashley a look of pure, venomous satisfaction. “Well, Ashley,” she sneered, “I suppose you’ll be needing to pack the rest of your cheap clothes. The guest house in the backyard might be available, assuming you pay rent.”
My mother chuckled, a cruel, grating sound. “Don't be rude, Stephanie. She’s pregnant. We’ll give her a week to find an apartment. We aren't monsters.”
I slowly reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone, placing it face down on the polished mahogany table. “Arthur,” I said quietly, the temperature in the room seemingly dropping ten degrees. “Are the signatures legally binding?”
Arthur Penhaligon, a man who had orchestrated corporate mergers worth billions, stamped the documents with his official notary seal. He gathered the folders, tapped them against the table to straighten them, and looked my father dead in the eye.
“They are fully executed and legally irrevocable,” Arthur confirmed.
I stood up. I buttoned my suit jacket, taking my time, savoring the absolute confusion that was just beginning to ripple across my father’s face.
“Good,” I said. “Dad, Mom, Stephanie... I think you should have actually read the final drafts. The ones on the table aren't the ones we discussed last week.”
My father’s arrogant smile faltered. He looked at Arthur, then back at me. “What are you talking about, Devin? What did you do?”
Arthur opened the first folder and began to read aloud, his voice projecting with clinical authority. “By signing this document, Raymond and Florence Castell willingly and irrevocably confess to the embezzlement of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars from Castell Cybersecurity Inc. over the past thirty-six months. Furthermore, they sign a complete renunciation of any and all claims to the Castell Family Trust, and agree to the immediate transfer of their primary residence in Boca Raton to Devin Castell as restitution for the stolen funds.”
The color completely drained from my father’s face. He looked as if he had been struck by lightning. “What?! Embezzlement? That’s a lie! We didn't—you gave us access to that account!”
“I gave you an emergency credit card,” I corrected him, my voice turning to ice. “I didn't authorize you to funnel company capital into offshore shell accounts to pay off your gambling debts, Dad. A forensic accountant has been tracking your movements for six months. I have every receipt.”
Stephanie jumped to her feet, her chair scraping violently against the floor. “You tricked us! This is fraud! I didn't sign anything about embezzlement!”
Arthur calmly opened Stephanie’s folder. “Miss Castell, your document is a formal admission of grand larceny. It details the unauthorized removal of jewelry, electronics, and cash from Devin and Ashley Castell’s primary residence. In exchange for Devin not pressing criminal charges for the theft, you have just signed over the title to your Range Rover, and surrendered your 5% minority shares in the company back to Devin.”
“No!” Stephanie shrieked, lunging across the table as if she could physically tear the documents from Arthur’s hands.
I stepped forward, blocking her path with my body. “Sit down, Stephanie,” I commanded. It wasn't a request. The sheer authority in my voice forced her to freeze. She stumbled back into her chair, her hands shaking wildly.
My mother began to hyperventilate, clutching her pearls. “Devin! You can't do this! We are your parents! We gave you life! You are leaving us with nothing! We’ll be homeless!”
“You are leaving yourselves with nothing,” I said coldly. “You thought I was weak. You thought because I valued family, I would blindly sign away my wife’s security. But the papers you just signed? They don’t just strip you of your stolen wealth. They legally bar you from ever stepping foot on any property I own, from contacting me, and from ever going near my wife or my children.”
My father’s face turned a violent shade of purple. He slammed his fists onto the table, spittle flying from his lips. “I’ll sue you! I’ll drag you through court for a decade! I’ll claim we signed under duress! No judge will uphold this trap!”
I smiled. It was a dark, hollow smile. I picked up my phone from the table.
May you like
“You can try, Dad,” I said. “But you might want to see the evidence I’m submitting to the police before you decide to walk into a courtroom.”
I tapped the screen, and the large presentation monitor mounted on the boardroom wall flickered to life. The trap was sprung, but the real execution was just beginning.
