Chapter 37 Dominic
Dominic
The boardroom is full when we arrive at nine.
Fourteen board members are seated around the same table where I fucked Mattaniah during a spike six days ago.
The thought crosses my mind as I set the presentation folders at my place.
This is not the time. The table has been cleaned.
New water glasses sit at each seat. Father is at the head in his usual position, his suit pressed, his hands folded on the table.
He's going to let his accusers speak first.
Amos sets up the projector while I distribute the folders.
Three copies of the forensic evidence, bound and tabbed.
Each one contains eighteen months of financial documentation tracing two point four million dollars from Hale Industries into Meridian Holdings, a shell company that belongs only to Richard Hale.
"Thank you all for coming on short notice." Amos addresses the room. "What we're about to show you is the result of several months of forensic financial analysis."
I watch Father's face while Amos talks. His expression holds through the first three slides.
By slide four his jaw has tightened enough that I can see the muscle jumping.
By slide six his composure cracks. Amos is displaying the incorporation documents for Meridian alongside the bank statements showing Father as the sole authorized signatory.
"These documents are fabricated." Father's voice cuts through the presentation with a certainty that would convince anyone who hadn't spent months verifying every line. "My sons have a personal vendetta against me and they've manufactured evidence to support it."
"The bank records were obtained directly from the institution under a legal subpoena.
" Amos clicks to the next slide, which displays the subpoena documentation.
"The incorporation filings were pulled from the Delaware Secretary of State's office.
The transfer authorizations bear your electronic signature, which our forensic team has verified against samples from authenticated company documents. "
Father's eyes move to me. The rage in them is familiar. I've been on the receiving end of that look since childhood. But underneath the rage sits something I've never seen from him before, and it looks like fear.
"This is retaliation." Father addresses the board rather than us. "My sons are angry because I objected to their relationship with my stepson. This is a personal attack dressed up as corporate governance."
"The forensic analysis began eight months before Mattaniah arrived in your household." I keep my voice level. "The timeline is documented in the materials in front of you. Amos flagged the first irregularity in April. Mattaniah didn't move into the house until September."
"The timeline doesn't change the motivation." Father leans forward. "You've been looking for a way to remove me since you were old enough to resent me. This is your opportunity and you're using a financial audit to mask what is fundamentally a family dispute."
"Mr. Hale." The board chair, a woman named Garrett, lifts her head from the documents. "The evidence will need to be reviewed by outside counsel before the board can take action. I'm tabling the final vote for forty-eight hours pending legal review."
"The evidence is fraudulent." Father's voice rises for the first time and the sound shifts something in the room. Three board members exchange glances. Another closes her folder. She's already made her decision.
"Forty-eight hours." Garrett repeats it and the room accepts it. "Both parties will refrain from contact with board members during the review period. The vote will take place Thursday at nine."
Father stands. He buttons his jacket and the gesture carries none of the deliberate composure it held at the mansion. His fingers fumble the second button and I notice.
"This isn't over." He says it directly to me as he passes my chair.
"Yes." I hold his gaze. "It is."
He leaves. The silence that follows fills the room. Garrett asks Amos three follow-up questions about the subpoena process. The meeting dissolves in stages, each member leaving with a folder under their arm.
Amos packs the projector while I collect the remaining folders. Neither of us speaks until the boardroom is empty.
"Forty-eight hours." Amos slides his laptop into its case.
"The outcome is decided. The forty-eight hours is legal cover." I stack the folders and tuck them under my arm. "Garrett knew the evidence was legitimate before we finished the first section. She's tabling for due diligence, not because she has doubts."
"Father is going to use those forty-eight hours."
"Father is going to drink and make threats and try to contact board members despite the order. None of it will matter." I turn for the door. "Let's go home."
Home is the apartment now.
The apartment is quiet when we arrive at noon.
Mattaniah is asleep on the couch with his laptop open on the coffee table and a half-eaten bowl of cereal beside it.
He didn't make it to the bedroom. His cheek is pressed into the cushion, his legs curled up, one hand hanging over the edge with his phone loosely gripped in his fingers.
The bond marks on his neck have faded from red to deep purple.
He's been working. The laptop screen shows the Meridian Holdings spreadsheet with three new tabs open, annotations in the cells that weren't there when I left this morning. He's been building the case while we presented it.
I pull the blanket from the back of the couch and drape it over him without touching his skin. His body shifts toward the warmth and his fingers tighten on his phone but he doesn't wake. Through the bond his sleep reads shallow and restless.
Amos goes to the kitchen and starts making something that involves a cutting board and vegetables. I sit in the chair across from the couch.
He hasn't let me touch him in three days. Since the blowout he has maintained a distance that the bond protests constantly. I can feel his anger through the marks, pulsing alongside the love and the hurt. Words didn't work. The only thing that's working is showing up.
Mattaniah stirs around one. His eyes open and find me in the chair. Something moves across his face that the bond echoes but I can't name.
"How did it go?" His voice is rough with sleep.
"The evidence is in front of the board. Garrett tabled the vote for forty-eight hours pending legal review."
"Forty-eight hours." He pushes himself upright and the blanket falls to his waist. His eyes flick to the blanket. "You put the blanket on me."
"You looked cold."
"You could have woken me up."
"You needed the sleep more than you needed the information." I stay in the chair. "Amos is making lunch."
He's quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. Through the bond something shifts. My bond mark pulses.
"Your father." He pulls the blanket around his shoulders. "How did he take it?"
"He called it fabricated. Then he called it retaliation. Then he lost his composure in front of fourteen board members, which did more damage to his credibility than anything in our presentation."
"He's going to come after you."
"He's been coming after me since I was twelve. The difference now is that I have the evidence and a bonded Omega who found the thread that unraveled his operation." I lean forward in the chair. "You built three new tabs on the Meridian spreadsheet while we were gone."
His cheeks flush. "I couldn't sleep. Working helped."
"You're angry at us and you're still building the case that protects us." I keep my hands on my knees. "I notice that."
"Don't read into it." He stands and wraps the blanket tighter around his shoulders. "I'm building the case because it's the right thing to do, not because I've forgiven you."
"I know."
Amos appears in the doorway with three plates balanced on his arms. He sets them on the coffee table without ceremony and sits on the floor beside the couch.
"I made stir fry." Amos hands Mattaniah a fork. "You don't have to talk. I just want to be near you if that's okay."
Mattaniah looks at Amos on the floor, then at me in the chair. Through the bond his defenses waver. The anger is still there and the hurt hasn't healed.
"It's okay." He takes a bite of the stir fry and his eyes close. "It's more than okay. This is really good."
"I know." Amos' mouth curves.
We eat in the living room. Mattaniah finishes his plate and sets it on the coffee table, pulling the blanket to his chin.
"Come sit with me." He says it quietly. "Not touching, just sitting."
Amos moves to the couch first. I follow. The three of us sit in a row with Mattaniah in the middle, the blanket around his shoulders, six inches of space between his body and each of ours. Through the bond the proximity eases an ache that's been building for three days.
"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you." He stares straight ahead at the blank television screen.
"We know." Amos keeps his hands in his lap.
"It means my bond marks hurt less when you're close and I'm tired of them hurting."
"That's enough." I keep my hands on my knees. "That's more than enough."