Chapter 37 Grant
GRANT
It’s Tuesday afternoon, and I’m standing in the private meeting room of my lodge watching snow fall outside the window.
Samantha made the call to Robert on Saturday. He confirmed he’d be here today at two o’clock, and according to the text I just received from security, he’s walking from his resort suite to the checkpoint right now.
“He’s on his way,” I tell Donovan, who’s arranging documents on the conference table with the kind of precision that means he’s ready to tear someone apart.
Samantha sits in the leather chair closest to the fireplace, hands folded in her lap. She’s wearing a burgundy sweater and dark jeans, hair pulled back, and she looks calmer than she did this morning when she barely touched her breakfast.
“You can still leave,” I tell her. “You don’t have to watch this.”
“I’m staying.” Her voice is steady. “He lied to me for years. Used my mother’s memory as a weapon. I need to see his face when you destroy him.”
I move to the table and dial Kai’s number on my phone. He answers immediately, propped up against pillows in the medical wing with color finally returning to his face.
“About time,” he says. “I’ve been waiting all morning.”
“Doctor says you need rest,” I remind him.
“I’ll rest when Robert’s gone.” He shifts against the pillows. “Is he there yet?”
“Security’s checking him in now.” I prop the phone against a stack of files on the table, angling it so Kai has a clear view of the room. “You’ll see everything.”
My phone buzzes with another text from security. Robert cleared the checkpoint and is being escorted to the lodge by Marcus, one of my most trusted staff members. They’ll be here in five minutes.
I move back to the window and watch the path that leads from the main resort building to the private lodge.
It’s barely a quarter mile, winding through snow-covered pines and past the heated outdoor pool that’s steaming in the cold air.
Through the trees, I see two figures approaching.
Marcus, in his dark security uniform, and Robert, in an expensive charcoal suit, carrying a leather briefcase.
Robert’s walking with confidence, chin up, shoulders back. He thinks he’s about to get exactly what he wants.
He has no idea what’s waiting for him inside this room.
“Two minutes,” I tell the others.
Donovan straightens his tie and moves to stand beside Samantha’s chair. Protective. Ready. Samantha’s hands tighten in her lap, but her expression stays composed.
Footsteps echo on the wooden porch outside. The door opens, and Marcus steps inside first, his hand resting casually near his hip where I know he keeps his gun.
“Mr. Allen to see you, sir,” Marcus says formally.
“Thank you, Marcus. You can wait outside.”
Marcus nods once and steps back, pulling the door closed behind him but staying close enough that I know he’ll hear if anything goes wrong.
Robert walks into the room, and his confident smile falters the moment he sees Donovan and me standing there. His gaze sweeps across Samantha, then lands on the phone propped on the table showing Kai’s face, then returns to me.
“Grant Hale.” He recovers quickly and extends his hand like we’re old friends meeting for lunch. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”
I don’t take his hand. “Sit down, Robert.”
His smile tightens at the edges, but he pulls out the chair across from me and settles into it with false confidence. He sets his briefcase on the table and clicks it open, pulling out a manila folder.
“Samantha,” he says, looking at her with warmth that makes my skin crawl. “I thought we’d be meeting privately.”
“Plans changed,” she says, and her voice doesn’t shake.
“I see.” Robert’s gaze shifts between Donovan and me, calculating his next move. “Well, I suppose we can discuss everything openly. After all, we’re all adults here who understand how business works.”
“What business is that?” I ask, crossing my arms.
Robert leans back in his chair and gestures to the folder he brought. “The kind where information has value. Samantha mentioned she’s gathered some interesting details about your operations over the past few weeks. Details that certain parties might find very valuable.”
“And what parties would those be?” Donovan asks, his voice dangerously calm.
“Let’s not play games.” Robert’s smile sharpens. “You run a very successful empire, Grant. Some people are curious about how you built it. The offshore accounts. The shell corporations. The business associates who prefer to stay out of the public eye.”
I move to the table and lean forward, palms flat on the polished wood. “You think you’re the first person to try blackmailing me?”
“I think I’m the first person with real leverage.” Robert taps his folder. “Samantha’s been very helpful. Haven’t you, sweetheart?”
Samantha flinches at the endearment, and rage burns hot in my chest.
“She has been helpful,” I agree. “Just not in the way you think.”
I pull out my own folder from the stack Donovan prepared. It’s easily three inches thick compared to Robert’s single thin file. I drop it on the table between us with enough force that the sound echoes through the room.
“Open it,” I tell him.
Robert hesitates. His eyes flick to the folder, then to my face, searching for some hint of what he’s about to find. When he doesn’t get one, he flips open the cover.
His expression goes carefully blank as he sees the first page. Bank statements showing accounts in the Cayman Islands under his name. Large deposits that don’t match any legitimate source of income.
“Keep going,” Donovan says from behind Samantha’s chair.
Robert turns the page. Then another. Each one reveals a different piece of his carefully constructed lies. Gambling debts to multiple organizations. Embezzlement records from the Volkov operation. Wire transfers that trace back to money laundering schemes he’s been running for over a decade.
The color drains from his face.
“This is…” He trails off, fingers frozen on a page showing debts totaling over eight million dollars.
“This is everything you’ve done,” I finish. “Every crime. Every debt. Every lie you’ve told to stay ahead of the people hunting you.”
“You can’t prove any of this,” Robert says, but his voice lacks conviction now.
I pick up my phone and tap the screen. Robert’s own voice fills the room through the Bluetooth speaker on the table, crystal clear and undeniable.
“Mandy’s clothing company was already failing when I married her. I used it as a front for money laundering. When it became a liability, I transferred the assets to pay off my gambling debts to Grant’s organization.”
Robert’s hand goes white-knuckled on the folder.
“That’s not all,” Donovan says. He pulls out his phone and plays another recording of Robert explaining in cold, calculated detail how he shaped Samantha’s grief into a weapon and pointed her at my family like she was nothing more than a tool.
“We tapped your phone,” I tell him. “Every conversation. Every text. Every call to your contacts at Volkov.”
“Volkov,” Kai says from the screen, and even through the speaker, I hear the dangerous edge in his voice. “You’ve been working with them this entire time. Trying to get inside information on our operations so you could sell it to our biggest competitor.”
Robert closes the folder with shaking hands. “You don’t understand. I had no choice. The debts, the pressure from Volkov’s people, I needed a way—”
“So you used your stepdaughter,” I cut him off. “You orchestrated her entire relationship with Logan. Fed her lies about her mother. Manipulated her grief for years. All so you could get leverage against my family and sell it to save your own skin.”
“I was protecting her!” Robert’s mask cracks completely. “Grant, you have to understand. The people I owe money to would have killed me. I needed—”
“You were protecting yourself,” Samantha interrupts, and her voice cuts like ice. “You made me believe the Hales destroyed Mom’s company. Made me think they killed her. Sent me here to ruin them when they never did anything to hurt us.”
“I gave you a purpose,” Robert argues desperately. “After your mother died, you were lost. I gave you something to focus on.”
“You gave me lies.” Samantha stands, and Donovan’s hand moves to her back, steadying her. “Everything I believed for years was built on your manipulation. You didn’t care what it would cost me as long as you got what you wanted.”
Robert turns back to me, trying one last angle. “Grant, we can work something out. I have detailed information on Volkov’s entire operation. Names, locations, shipment routes, everything they’re planning for the next six months. That has to be worth something.”
“It might be,” I agree. “If I trusted a single word that came out of your mouth. But I don’t.”
I lean forward until we’re eye to eye across the table. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Robert. You’re going to sit there and listen very carefully to what my son has to say. And then you’re going to make the smartest decision of your pathetic life.”
Robert looks at Donovan, and I watch the moment he realizes this isn’t a negotiation.
It’s a sentencing.
“Wait.” Robert holds up both hands. “Just wait. Samantha, sweetheart, you have to understand. Your mother would have wanted—”
Donovan moves faster than I expect. His fist connects with Robert’s jaw with a crack that echoes through the room. Robert’s head snaps to the side, and he topples backward in his chair, crashing to the floor with a grunt.
“Don’t,” Donovan says, standing over him with his fist still clenched. “Don’t you ever mention her mother again.”
Robert touches his jaw, blood trickling from his split lip. He looks up at Donovan with genuine fear in his eyes now, all pretense of control completely gone.
“Get up,” I tell him. “My son has something to say to you.”