Chapter Twenty-Nine
EVERETT
Three minutes late. Claudia Preston is making us wait. That's intentional.
Christian is beside me. Tie knotted tight. Briefcase in hand. Court face on—the one that means he already knows how bad this is going to get.
He hasn't said much since we stepped off the elevator.
He doesn't need to.
The tremor in my hands is still there. It’s faint and manageable, but still there.
I keep my fingers flat against my thighs as Genevieve looks up from where she's seated off to the side. Not at the table. Near the windows. Observing.
Genevieve.
Ms. Preston sits at the head of the table. The other two trustees flanking her. Someone definitely rehearsed this seating arrangement.
Christian takes the chair to my left.
I take the one directly across from Preston.
"Mr. Kauffman," Preston says. "Thank you for coming on short notice."
"You didn't give me the impression it was optional."
Her expression doesn't shift. "It wasn't."
She opens the folder in front of her. Takes her time about it.
I don't give her the satisfaction of shifting in my chair.
"The board has received information," she says, "regarding the circumstances under which your marriage to Aria Taylor was initiated."
Taylor.
Not Kauffman.
She's making her point before she gets to the evidence.
Christian folds his hands on the table. "What information."
Preston glances at him, then returns to me.
"We have evidence that Ms. Taylor was terminated from her position at Kauffman Enterprises days before the engagement was announced.
That the termination was subsequently reversed.
That a private agreement existed between you and Ms. Taylor outlining terms of marriage, including financial consideration. "
The room goes still enough that I can hear the air system humming over my own pulse.
Not suspicion. Not theory.
They know.
Preston turns one page.
"We also have information that public displays of affection between you and Ms. Taylor were, at least in the beginning, strategic in nature and intended to establish the relationship's credibility for press purposes."
The kiss on the Hawkeyes steps. The firing. The contract. The payout.
Not guesses. Specifics. The kind that come from someone who had access.
Christian speaks before I can. "May I ask the source of this information?"
"You may ask," Preston says. "We are not obligated to disclose it."
"Under the trust provisions—"
"The trust provisions require the board to protect the integrity of the estate." She folds her hands over the folder. "That is what we are doing."
Focus.
I should be running source analysis. Proof chain. Admissibility. Challenge points. I should be thinking like the man who runs a billion-dollar company and has sat through worse than this.
Instead I'm thinking about Aria in the studio. Bare feet on the hardwood floors I chose for her. The heart emoji she sent last night that I stared at until the screen went dark.
Focus, damn it.
"Based on the evidence before us," Preston continues, "the board is prepared to invoke the fraud provisions of the Kauffman Family Trust."
Christian shifts beside me. Not much. Enough.
"All eight beneficiaries," Preston says, "will be subject to disinheritance review, effective immediately."
All eight.
Not just me.
Levi. Colston. Zayne. Wes. Archer. Christian.
Everly. Seven people who didn't sign anything. Seven people who had nothing to do with how this started and might lose everything because of it, only for the trustee to funnel the funds into passion projects and charity events, padding the pockets of their friends since they can’t take the funds themselves.
"That's an overreach," Christian argues.
"The trust provisions are clear."
"Review is not the same as automatic disinheritance."
"The board retains discretion."
"Discretion," Christian says, "is still bound by fiduciary reason. Punishing seven uninvolved parties for one beneficiary's conduct is neither proportionate nor defensible."
Preston opens her mouth.
Genevieve beats her to it.
"If I may."
Every head in the room turns.
She hasn't moved from her chair near the window. One leg crossed over the other, portfolio balanced on her knee. The room goes quiet for her in a way it didn't go quiet for Preston, and I file that away.
"This is the first offense," she says. "The first beneficiary in thirty years to trigger the clause in this way."
Preston regards her carefully. "Your point?"
"My point," Genevieve says, "is that the board should consider the practical implications of dismantling all eight positions simultaneously."
She uncrosses her legs. Leans forward just slightly.
"Colston Kauffman is currently overseeing Morrison Tower, in which board member Harris's development group holds a direct interest. Everly Kauffman is coordinating the Foundation gala, which raises substantial funding for organizations represented by this board."
She pauses. Lets that land. Harris shifts in his seat.
"Zayne Kauffman is tied to multiple real estate partnerships that currently serve the trust's public image. Christian Kauffman is legal counsel on several trust-adjacent transactions already in motion."
"Removing all eight at once would not be a clean correction. It would be an amputation that damages the body performing the surgery."
No one speaks.
Preston's expression stays cool, but one of the trustees to her right glances at another— brief and involuntary.
Genevieve continues.
"I'm not suggesting the board ignore the violation. I'm suggesting the response be proportionate to the offense." Her gaze cuts to me, then back to Preston. "One sibling acted. Perhaps one sibling bears the consequence."
Silence stretches.
Then Preston closes the folder.
"We'll take a thirty-minute recess."
The hallway outside the boardroom has too much light and not enough air.
Christian starts pacing the second the door closes. Three steps one direction. Turn. Three back. His tie is loosened. His briefcase is open on the bench, legal pad already out, but I can tell by the way he's moving that the lawyer in him is running too hot to sit down.
"We can fight this," he says. "Whatever they have, we challenge the source, we challenge the process, we force disclosure—"
"They know about the contract."
"That doesn't mean the evidence survives scrutiny."
"They know about the firing. The kiss. The timeline."
He stops pacing.
I lean back against the wall. Press my palms flat to the cool surface behind me.
"This isn't a fishing expedition, Christian. Someone told them."
His jaw tightens.
"I know."
I can see him running the list in his head. Who knew enough. Who had access. Who could put the pieces together. The list is short. Too short. And none of the names on it help right now.
"If we fight this," I say, "Aria gets dragged into it."
Christian looks at me.
"She goes on a witness stand. She explains the contract. The money. The terms. She explains why she signed it. They drag her father into it. Brookhaven. They make her tell the worst parts of her life to a room full of people who'll use every word to bury her."
Christian closes his eyes for one second.
One.
When he opens them, the lawyer is still there. But so is my brother.
"Everett—"
"Whatever they offer, I'm taking it."
He goes still.
"You don't know that yet."
"I know enough."
The boardroom door opens behind us. Genevieve stands there with one hand on the handle, chin tilted toward the room.
Come back in.
We do.
Preston is standing when we return. The others are seated, but something in the room has shifted. Less trial. More negotiation.
Somehow that's worse.
"We've discussed the matter," she says. "The board is prepared to offer a resolution."
Resolution. The kind of word people use when they want surrender to sound like a handshake.
"If Mr. Kauffman voluntarily relinquishes his claim to his share of the trust," Preston says, "without litigation and without public dispute, the remaining beneficiaries will retain their inheritances, positions, and rights under the trust."
Christian's hand flexes once beside me.
I don't move.
"This offer is extended once," Preston continues. "If declined, the board will proceed with review and formal fraud inquiry."
She pauses.
"There is an additional condition."
Of course there is.
"Mr. Kauffman will be required to dissolve the marriage to Ms. Taylor. If the relationship resumes in any material way—formally or informally—the board will treat that as evidence of continued fraud and revisit the protections extended to the other beneficiaries."
There it is.
Not the money. Not the position.
Aria.
I have to lose Aria or my siblings lose everything.
My dead father. Still running the damn family from a filing cabinet. I'd almost be impressed if I weren't the one sitting here getting gutted by it.
Christian turns toward me, voice low. "We need time."
"I'll take the deal," I say.
His hand lands hard on my forearm.
"Everett."
I don't look at him.
"With conditions," I add.
Preston's eyes narrow. "You are not in a position to negotiate."
"And yet I am."
I hold her gaze.
"First, the protections for my siblings are explicit. Not implied. Their inheritances, their roles within the company, their projects, their authority. No retaliation. No restructuring. No quiet punishment later because this board got embarrassed today."
A look passes between Preston and the trustee to her right.
She nods once. "That can be documented."
"Second." I lean forward. "Aria Taylor's father is a patient at Brookhaven Memory Center. When this marriage ends, she loses the financial support keeping him there. I want his care fully covered. Not three years. Indefinitely."
The room goes quiet.
Different kind of quiet.
Preston studies me for a long moment.
"That can also be arranged."
Christian looks at me then. Really looks.
And I know exactly what he's hearing: I negotiated for my siblings. I negotiated for her father. I asked for nothing for myself.