Chapter Ten #2
I ignored him.
I looked at Martin’s tablet and then at the phone.
“You have no idea who Madeleine is if you think a man can make her vote.”
Victor went quiet for one second.
Then he said, “We will see.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your wife has a price. Everyone does.”
My blood went cold.
“Do not go near her.”
“She is still a shareholder.”
“She is still the mother of my son.”
“And that is why I will be polite.”
I stood. “Where are you?”
“Doing what you are too weak to do.”
“If you contact her, I will—”
“You will what?” Victor asked. “Call another board meeting? Cry on another camera? Hand her another knife and ask her to cut gently?”
My voice went low. “I will expose you.”
“For what? Protecting the company from your lust and her revenge?”
“Victor,” Peter said sharply.
My father went silent.
Then he said, “Ah. So Peter is there. Good. Perhaps someone in the room still understands business.”
“I understand enough,” Peter said. “And if you contact Ms. Hart without counsel present, you may create liability for the board.”
Victor laughed softly. “Always the careful one, Peter.”
The call ended.
I stared at the dead screen.
Martin spoke first. “His jet filed a flight plan ten minutes ago.”
My body went rigid.
“To where?”
“Vancouver.”
The room changed.
Peter said, “Bennett, no.”
I was already moving.
Martin stepped in front of the door.
I stopped.
“Move.”
“No, sir.”
I stared at him. “You work for me.”
“Yes. And you told me my loyalty starts with Madeleine and Theo’s safety.”
“He is going to her.”
“And if you chase him, every camera in the Pacific Northwest will chase you both.”
“He will pressure her.”
“Yes.”
“He will offer money.”
“Probably.”
“He may threaten her.”
Martin’s face hardened. “That is why we call Audrey Finch.”
I breathed hard.
Peter nodded. “He is right.”
I hated both of them in that moment.
Because both of them were standing between me and my oldest habit.
Control.
I wanted to go to Madeleine. I wanted to stand at her door and block my father with my body. I wanted to prove I could protect her now.
But protection without permission was just another kind of force.
I had learned that too late.
I took out my phone and called Audrey.
She answered on the fourth ring, voice sharp with sleep and murder.
“This better be real.”
“It is Bennett.”
“I know. I have caller ID.”
“My father is flying to Vancouver. I believe he is coming to Madeleine.”
Silence.
Then, “Why?”
“To buy her out. Or threaten her. Or both.”
“Do you have proof?”
“His flight plan. His phone call. Evidence from Serena’s laptop that connects his office to the bracelet and the Northstar framing.”
Another silence.
This one colder.
“Send everything.”
“I will.”
“Do not come here.”
My chest tightened. “I wasn’t—”
“Yes, you were.”
I closed my eyes.
“I won’t come.”
“Good.”
“Audrey.”
“What?”
“Tell her I did not send him.”
“I will tell her what she needs to know.”
“That is not the same.”
“No,” she said. “It is better.”
I deserved that.
“Protect them,” I said.
“She protected herself before you called.”
The line went dead.
I lowered the phone.
Peter looked at me. “That woman terrifies me.”
“She should.”
Martin had already started sending the files.
I looked at the window.
The city was still dark. Somewhere above the black water, my father was going to the woman I had hurt with money in one hand and poison in the other.
I could not stop him without making it worse.
That was punishment too.
The board gathered at seven.
Some appeared on screens. Some arrived in person with wet coats and tired faces. My father’s chair stayed empty.
I stood at the head of the table but did not sit.
Peter opened the meeting. His voice was formal. Dry. Controlled.
Then Martin presented the timeline.
The video leak.
The bracelet theft.
The safe access.
The system update from Victor’s office.
Serena’s interview coaching.
Northstar’s donor connection.
The private merger thread.
The room grew colder with every document.
Ewan Price looked like he might vomit.
One board member, Carol Venton, removed her glasses and said, “Are we certain Ms. Hart did not know about Northstar?”
I turned to her.
“Do not do that.”
She stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“Do not take a file tied to my father and use it to smear my wife.”
Peter spoke before Carol could answer. “There is no evidence Ms. Hart knew.”
“Then we say that,” I said.
Ewan adjusted his tie. “Publicly?”
“Yes.”
Peter nodded. “I agree.”
Carol looked uncertain. “This may create exposure.”
I laughed once. “Exposure? My wife’s face is on every screen in the country because of exposure we created.”
“You created,” she said.
I held her stare. “Yes. I created the personal betrayal. And I will pay for that. But this board will not hide behind my affair while someone uses Madeleine as a shield for corporate rot.”
The room went quiet.
Peter said, “Motion to freeze all merger activity related to Northstar pending review.”
“Second,” Carol said after a moment.
The vote passed.
“Motion to appoint outside counsel to review Victor Rourke’s office and all communications with Serena Mallory,” Peter said.
Another vote.
Passed.
Ewan looked at me. “And your leadership role?”
I looked around the room.
Every face waited.
This time, I did not make them ask.
“I will extend my step-back period to sixty days. Peter remains interim executive chair. I remain available for technical and founder-level consultation only, under board oversight.”
Ewan blinked.
Carol looked surprised.
Peter turned to me. “Bennett.”
“No,” I said. “This is right.”
“You do not have to give more than the board asked for.”
“I gave too little for too long.”
Carol’s face softened a little.
I did not want softness.
I wanted clean lines.
“And,” I added, “Madeleine Hart’s voting rights are not to be challenged, diluted, frozen, purchased through pressure, or discussed outside counsel. Any contact with her must go through Audrey Finch.”
Ewan’s pen stopped moving.
“That is unusual,” he said.
“Do it.”
Peter looked at the board. “I support that.”
The vote was slower this time.
But it passed.
For the first time in twenty-four hours, I could breathe.
Not fully.
But enough.
My phone buzzed while Ewan prepared the written resolution.
Audrey.
I stepped out of the boardroom and answered.
“Did he get there?” I asked.
“No.”
Relief hit so hard I put one hand on the wall.
Then Audrey continued.
“He called first.”
My relief died.
“What did he say?”
“He requested a private meeting with Madeleine.”
“And?”
“She refused.”
I closed my eyes.
Good.
Good girl.
No.
Not girl.
My wife.
No.
Madeleine.
Just Madeleine.
Audrey’s voice sharpened. “Then he sent an offer.”
My hand tightened around the phone. “How much?”
“Twenty million dollars, the Vancouver house, and a clean custody path if she signs over voting control before the next board session.”
I laughed once.
Cold.
Furious.
“He offered to buy the woman who owns the vote.”
“Yes.”
“What did Madeleine say?”
Audrey was silent for a beat.
Then she said, “She asked if he preferred the answer from her lawyer or from the woman he tried to erase.”
My chest tightened.
That was my Maddie.
“What answer did she give?”
Audrey’s voice turned almost amused.
“She told him the price for her silence went up the moment he assumed it existed.”
For the first time all morning, I almost smiled.
Then Audrey added, “But Bennett?”
“Yes?”
“Victor is not done. And there is something else.”
The smile vanished.
“What?”
“The Northstar documents include Madeleine’s foundation signature.”
I went still.
“She did not know.”
“I believe that. But the signature is there.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“That,” Audrey said, “is what we need to find out before your father uses it to accuse her of fraud.”