Chapter 48
CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT
JULIE
Wednesday morning arrives too quickly. I barely slept last night.
Every time I close my eyes, I see Dean's face.
That cold, calculating expression he wore when he told me about the building and the loan and the five-year trap.
I get dressed in a black sheath dress and heels.
Professional. Controlled. I pull my hair back into a low bun and put on minimal makeup.
Jamie wears a navy suit. Ryan drives us to Gregory's office in downtown Seattle, and the whole way there, none of us speak. When we pull into the parking garage, I feel like I'm going to throw up.
"You okay?" Ryan asks.
"No."
"Do you want me to come up with you?"
"You can't. Gregory said only Jamie and I."
He nods. "I'll wait here in the car then. Text me when you're done."
Jamie and I take the elevator to the fourteenth floor. The law offices of Hale & Associates are sleek and modern, all glass and steel and expensive furniture. The receptionist greets us with a professional smile. "Mr. Hale is expecting you. Conference room B, down the hall on your left."
We walk down the hallway in silence. My heels click against the polished floor. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. When we reach the conference room, I pause with my hand on the door handle.
"You ready?" Jamie whispers.
"No."
"Me neither."
I push the door open. The conference room is large, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
There's a long table in the center, and seated around it are five people. Gregory Hale at the head of the table. Then two men in suits I recognize as being Ancre board members. And Asher. I knew he’d be here. But still. I freeze in the doorway.
He looks up, and our eyes meet for half a second before I look away. Asshole. He looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes. His jaw tight. He's wearing a suit, but it looks rumpled, like he slept in it. Good. I hope he’s fucking miserable.
"Julie. Jamie. Please, come in," Gregory says, standing. "Have a seat."
Jamie and I sit on the opposite side of the table from Asher. As far away as possible.
Gregory gestures to the two men in suits. "These are board members from Ancre Technologies. Mr. Richard Pemberton and Mr. David Cho. They're here as witnesses to the proceedings."
The board members nod at us. I nod back, my throat tight.
"Now then," Gregory says, sitting back down. "Let's begin."
He opens a leather folder in front of him and pulls out several documents.
"As I mentioned on the phone, the separation filing has triggered an early distribution clause in the Dean Stevens Living Trust. Normally, the trust would not be distributed until one year following Mr. Stevens' death.
However, certain conditions were built into the trust that, if met, would accelerate that timeline. "
He looks at me. "Julie, I need to confirm for the record: is your marriage to Asher Stevens irrecoverably broken?"
The words hang in the air. I don't look at Asher. I keep my eyes on Gregory.
"Yes," I say clearly. "It is."
"And there is no possibility of reconciliation?"
"Absolutely none."
"I see." Gregory makes a note on his legal pad. “Your lawyer tells me that you have documentation of infidelity and emotional manipulation?”
"Yes. I have evidence," I say. "If you need it, I'm happy to send it along."
Gregory shakes his head. "That won't be necessary. But I do suggest you instruct your attorney to keep those records. Just in case."
"In case of what?"
"In case Mr. Stevens decides to make a very poor decision to contest any aspect of the trust distribution. In that scenario, you’ll be asked to provide that documentation and he’ll lose everything.”
Asher shifts in his seat. I still don't look at him. "Understood," I say.
Gregory nods and turns to the documents in front of him. "Very well. Let's proceed."
He clears his throat. "The Dean Stevens Living Trust was established in 2015 and updated multiple times over the years, most recently during your honeymoon in the Maldives."
My stomach drops. During our honeymoon?
"The trust contains several key provisions," Gregory continues. "First, regarding Asher Stevens."
Asher sits up straighter.
"Asher, you are to receive a lump sum payment of one billion dollars."
The room is silent. One billion dollars. It's an obscene amount of money. Life-changing money. But from the look on Asher's face, it's not what he was expecting.
“What the fuck? That’s fucking chump change,” he seethes.
Jesus Christ. Who is he? Who hears they’ve been left a billion dollars and calls it chump change? That’s the kind of money no one person could spend in a lifetime. He’s insane.
"In addition," Gregory says, "you will retain ten percent of Ancre Technologies shares. However, the board of directors will need to vote on whether you remain as head of the company."
Asher's jaw tightens. "What the fuck?"
"Your father stipulated that your position as CEO is contingent on board approval following the trust distribution. Given the circumstances surrounding the triggering event, the board will convene within the next sixty days to make that determination. There is a morals clause to consider."
Mr. Pemberton and Mr. Cho exchange a glance. Neither of them looks particularly sympathetic.
"That's bullshit," Asher says. "I've been running that company for?—"
"Mr. Stevens," Gregory interrupts calmly. "This is not a negotiation. These are the terms of your father's trust. Your thoughts about it are irrelevant.”
Asher's face goes red, but he doesn't say anything else.
Gregory turns to Jamie. "Jamie Nelson. You are to receive a bequest of fifty million dollars, free and clear, with no conditions attached."
My jaw drops.
Jamie's hand flies to her mouth. "What?"
"Fifty million dollars," Gregory repeats.
She looks at me, stunned. I can't speak. I can't breathe. And then Gregory turns to me.
"Julie Stevens," he says. "You are to receive the remainder of the estate."
"That includes sixty-one percent of Ancre Technologies shares, making you the majority shareholder. It also includes all real property, investment accounts, and liquid assets not otherwise designated in the trust."
The room spins. Sixty-one percent. Majority shareholder.
"In total," Gregory says, "your inheritance is valued at approximately twenty point two billion dollars."
I hear the words, but they don't make sense. Twenty point two billion. Billion. With a fucking B. "I don't—" My voice cracks. "I don't understand."
Gregory's expression softens slightly. "Your late father-in-law left you everything, Julie. Everything except the provisions for Asher and Jamie."
I finally look at Asher. He's staring at me, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock and crystal clear, easy to see horror. "How?" he asks, his voice faint. "How is that possible?"
Gregory reaches into the folder and pulls out an envelope. "Your father left a letter about this. It's dated during your honeymoon. He asked that it be read aloud at the trust distribution."
He opens the envelope and unfolds the letter.
"To my son, Asher,'" Gregory begins. "'If I’m dead and you're hearing this version, it means you failed. You've never been disciplined. Never had to fight for anything. Everything was handed to you, and you squandered it.'"
Asher's hands are shaking.
"'I suspected this would happen,'" Gregory continues. "'Which is why I built contingencies into the trust. You fumbled. Just like you always do. I left you a billion dollars. It’s far more than you deserve. I thought about leaving you nothing. But I don't want people judging the things I didn’t leave you. So you get some money. Just not all that you wanted. I hope that hurts. It probably does, because you’re spoiled and stupid.”
I can't breathe. Dean really was a bastard. What a shitty, horrible thing to do to your child. As angry as I am at Asher, as much as he disgusts me, I can't imagine the kick in the ass having your father talk shit to you posthumously is.
"To Julie,'" Gregory reads, "Before the wedding, I manipulated you.
I set a trap with your business, thinking I could control you the way I controlled my son.
But you surprised me. You tried to give it back.
You told me you didn't want it. That display of integrity, that refusal to be bought, showed me who you really are.
And it made me realize that you deserved better than the conditions I'd placed on you. '"
“After that night, I knew I needed to fix my mistake.
Therefore, I have rescinded all conditions on your business loan and building,'" Gregory continues.
"'The five-year requirement is null and void.
The building is yours, free and clear. I've also left a bequest to your sister Jamie, so that both of you can have the future you want.
Free of walls. Free of conditions. Free of men like me and my son. '
Tears are streaming down my face now. I’m so fucking relieved it’s staggering. My sister and I get to keep our store. Gregory pauses, then continues reading.
"'Julie, you are a remarkable woman. If you're getting this version of the letter it means my son didn't deserve you.
I hope you use this inheritance to build the life you were always meant to have.
And Asher, I hope you learn from this. But I doubt you will.
You're both too much like me and not enough, all at the same time. It’s not a good mix. Signed, Dean Stevens.'"
Gregory sets the letter down. The room is silent. The board members are staring at the table looking quite uncomfortable. And Asher. Well. Asher looks like he's about to explode. "How fucking ironclad is this?" he asks stiffly, like he’s holding onto his temper by a thread.
Gregory looks at him. "Airtight. Your father worked with me and nineteen of the other top estate and trust attorneys in the country. Every contingency was planned for. Every loophole closed. There is no contesting this. And as I mentioned earlier, if you try, you lose everything.”