Chapter 3 Thirty-Eight Percent
Commissioner Fletcher ordered everyone to remain downstairs while the officers searched the second floor.
Miriam protested immediately.
“This is ridiculous. My son has done nothing illegal.”
“No one said he had,” Fletcher replied.
“You entered our home with armed officers.”
“Your daughter-in-law has a broken arm, your son ran from the room when evidence was mentioned, and someone just activated an electronic purge system.”
His gaze moved toward the ceiling.
“I’d say we have a reasonable cause for concern.”
The alarm stopped.
The silence that followed was worse.
I guided Sienna back into the sitting room while Dr. Chen stabilized her arm.
“She needs imaging tonight,” the doctor said. “Possibly surgery. The fracture is displaced.”
Sienna stared at the floor.
“Will it heal?”
“Yes,” Dr. Chen told her. “But you need treatment now.”
Garrick’s sister, Vanessa, appeared in the doorway.
She was thirty-one, thin, expensively dressed, and so pale that her lipstick looked unnaturally bright.
“Sienna,” she said, “I’m sorry.”
Miriam turned sharply.
“Vanessa, stay out of this.”
Vanessa ignored her.
“I heard them arguing last night.”
Sienna lifted her head.
Vanessa’s eyes filled with tears.
“I should have come downstairs.”
Garrick’s younger brother, Preston, remained at the dining table.
He had stopped smirking.
Miriam crossed the room.
“No one in this family is speaking without an attorney.”
“That instruction might work in one of your company meetings,” Fletcher said. “It does not control voluntary witnesses.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“He hurt her before.”
Sienna closed her eyes.
“How many times?” I asked.
Vanessa hesitated.
“Three that I know of.”
“Liar,” Miriam snapped.
Vanessa recoiled.
Miriam’s expression contained no maternal concern.
Only betrayal.
Not because her son had allegedly hurt his wife.
Because her daughter had spoken about it.
A door opened upstairs.
Heavy footsteps crossed the landing.
Two officers brought Garrick down the staircase.
His white shirt was streaked with gray dust. A cut marked one side of his forehead. His wrists were not restrained, but an officer held each arm.
“What happened?” Fletcher asked.
“We found him inside a concealed room behind the office bookcase,” one officer replied. “He was attempting to remove computer drives from a wall safe.”
“I was protecting confidential company information,” Garrick said.
“From your own company’s board chairman?”
Garrick looked toward Daniel.
“You have no idea what you walked into.”
Daniel’s voice remained calm.
“Then explain it.”
Garrick stared at me.
“This woman has been manipulating Ashford Industries for decades.”
Miriam found her courage again.
“She admitted it herself. Her trust controls company shares. This is a hostile takeover.”
“No,” I said. “A hostile takeover requires someone to seek control they do not already possess.”
Daniel opened his folder again.
“The Voss Family Trust owns thirty-eight percent of Ashford Industries’ voting shares. Through a standing agreement with two institutional investors, Mrs. Voss also has proxy authority over an additional eleven percent during any emergency governance proceeding.”
Garrick’s lips parted.
Daniel continued.
“That gives her temporary control of forty-nine percent.”
“Not a majority,” Garrick said quickly.
“No,” I agreed.
“Which is why your future depends on whether even one other shareholder believes you should be trusted.”
His eyes moved around the room.
For the first time, Garrick looked smaller.
Not weaker.
Cornered.
There was a difference.
Cornered men could still be dangerous.
One of the officers placed three black hard drives on the dining table.
“We recovered these from the safe.”
Garrick stepped forward.
“You cannot take those.”
Fletcher blocked him.
“If they contain company information, the board can secure them. If they contain evidence related to a crime, we can seek a warrant.”
“They contain privileged material.”
“You can make that argument through counsel.”
Miriam pointed toward the front door.
“Everyone needs to leave.”
“No,” Sienna said.
Every face turned toward her.
Her voice trembled, but she did not lower her eyes.
“This is my home too.”
Garrick laughed once.
It was a cruel, humorless sound.
“Is it?”
Sienna flinched.
I stood beside her.
“What does that mean?”
He looked at his wife.
“Tell your mother whose name is on the deed.”
Sienna said nothing.
Garrick smiled.
“Mine.”
“You purchased this house after the marriage,” I said.
“With my money.”
Sienna’s shoulders tightened.
I noticed.
“What money?” I asked.
Garrick’s smile disappeared.
Sienna whispered, “Mine.”
Miriam closed her eyes as though my daughter had committed a social embarrassment.
I moved closer to Sienna.
“Explain.”
“When Dad died, he left me an account.”
I knew the account.
Jonathan had created it so Sienna would never be trapped by financial dependence. It contained investments, insurance proceeds, and part of his estate.
Approximately four million dollars.
“You told me the funds were still managed by Whitaker Private Bank,” I said.
“They were.”
“Were?”
She looked at Garrick.
“He convinced me to transfer them.”
“Convinced?” I asked.
“At first.”
The words chilled me.
Garrick interrupted.
“My wife invested in our marriage.”
Sienna’s hand shook.
“He said we needed the house because it would help his image at the company.”
“How much did you provide?”
“Two point eight million.”
Daniel removed his glasses.
The home was worth slightly more than three million dollars.
“And the deed is only in his name?” I asked.
Sienna nodded.
Garrick shrugged.
“She signed the documents.”
“After independent legal advice?”
“She had a lawyer.”
“Who?”
“Martin Kessler.”
I knew the name.
Kessler was Ashford Industries’ former deputy general counsel.
He had retired three years earlier—or claimed he had.
“Did you choose him?” I asked Sienna.
“No.”
“Did you ever meet him alone?”
“No.”
Garrick’s eyes sharpened.
“You’re making ordinary financial decisions sound criminal.”
“I’m asking questions.”
“You’re building a case.”
“That is what happens when the answers begin to form a pattern.”
One of the board members, Priya Nanduri, picked up a hard drive.
“Why were these stored in a hidden room?”
Garrick said nothing.
Preston finally rose from the table.
“I know.”
Miriam stared at him.
“Sit down.”
He did not.
The boyish grin was gone from his face.
Preston was twenty-six, ten years younger than Garrick, and had spent most of his life being treated like the unserious son.
Perhaps he had learned to survive by pretending not to notice anything.
“The room was Dad’s,” Preston said.
Miriam’s face tightened.
“Our father kept company records there. Garrick reopened it after the funeral.”
“What records?” Daniel asked.
“Old ownership agreements. Private accounts. Documents related to the factory acquisitions.”
Garrick stepped toward him.
“Be quiet.”
Preston backed away.
Fletcher moved between the brothers.
“Continue.”
Preston swallowed.
“Garrick told me the company was supposed to belong to our family again.”
“It does belong to your family,” Daniel said. “In part.”
“No. He meant all of it.”
The room became silent.
Preston looked at me.
“He said the Voss Trust stole Ashford Industries when our grandfather was desperate. He said after the COO promotion, he would have access to vendor approvals, internal financing, and pension reserve transfers.”
Priya’s face changed.
“Pension reserves?”
“I don’t know the details.”
Garrick laughed.
“This is absurd. Preston failed out of business school. He doesn’t understand the words he’s repeating.”
“I understand enough,” Preston said. “You wanted me to create shell companies.”
Miriam slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Vanessa gasped.
Preston staggered sideways, holding his cheek.
“No one betrays this family,” Miriam hissed.
Sienna began to cry again.
But this time she was not shrinking.
She was watching them.
Seeing the structure clearly.
Garrick had not become cruel in isolation.
He had been protected.
Excused.
Admired.
And every person who remained silent had helped him believe consequences were meant for other men.
Commissioner Fletcher turned to Preston.
“Do you have documents supporting what you just said?”
Preston nodded slowly.
“Some.”
“Where?”
Garrick’s face went rigid.
Preston looked toward the hard drives.
“Not there.”
“Where are they?” I asked.
He reached into his jacket and removed a key.
“There’s a storage unit near the river.”
Miriam looked horrified.
“You had no right.”
“I was scared,” Preston said. “I copied everything I could.”
“Everything about what?” Daniel asked.
Preston looked at Garrick.
“The fake companies.”
Garrick moved faster than anyone expected.
He shoved Fletcher aside and lunged across the table.
His hand closed around the carving knife.
Sienna screamed.
An officer drew his weapon.
“Drop it!”
Garrick held the knife against Preston’s throat.
Everyone froze.
His eyes moved toward me.
“You think thirty-eight percent makes you powerful?”
His breathing was ragged now.
The polished executive had disappeared.
“You have no idea what this family had to do to survive.”
I stared at the blade against Preston’s skin.
“Put the knife down.”
“Tell them to give me the drives.”
“No.”
His hand tightened.
A red line appeared on Preston’s neck.
Miriam whispered her eldest son’s name.
Not as a warning.
As encouragement.
“Garrick,” Sienna said.
He looked at her.
My daughter slowly stood.
“You want everyone to believe I’m confused,” she said.
Her voice shook, but each word became clearer.
“You tell them I’m emotional. You tell them I misunderstand you. You tell them you only hurt me because I make you angry.”
Garrick stared at her.
“But there are cameras in every room,” she continued.
His face changed.
“You recorded everything.”
“Sienna,” he warned.
“You recorded yourself.”
For one second, his grip loosened.
Preston drove his elbow backward.
The knife fell.
Officers tackled Garrick to the floor.
Miriam screamed.
Sienna collapsed against me.
As the officers restrained her husband, one of the hard drives rolled across the table and struck Daniel’s folder.
The outer casing cracked open.
Inside was not a standard company drive.
There was a smaller encrypted device marked with three handwritten words:
VOSS TRUST — TERMINATION PLAN.
I picked it up.
Garrick stopped struggling.
His face told me more than any confession could have.
This was not only an attempt to steal Ashford Industries.
May you like
Garrick had developed a plan specifically designed to remove me.
Permanently.
