Chapter 3 - BLOODLINES AND FORGERIES
The storm over the Rhode Island sound grew fiercer as dawn broke, casting the breakfast salon in a dull, silvery gloom.
Brooke sat at the head of the long mahogany table, sipping black coffee. She had changed into a tailored ivory wool suit, her golden hair swept back in an elegant chignon. Opposite her sat Arthur Vance, a thin man in his late fifties with sweat glistening on his temples despite the chilly draft coming off the patio.
"The language in the conveyance is aggressive, Brooke," Vance whispered, leaning across the table while glancing nervously toward the doorway. "If Dominic’s corporate counsel audits the trust schedule before the wedding on Saturday, we’re finished. Dominic doesn’t sue people in civil court. He leaves them in shipping containers."
"Dominic trusts me," Brooke said coldly, her tone dripping with disdain. "He thinks I’m a refined socialite who wants to modernize his estate. Besides, Dominic is in London until Monday morning. By then, the merger between Harrington Logistics and Mercer Atlantic will be filed under the revised trust structure. My name will be on the deed."
"And Natalie?"
"Natalie is a broken widow with no income and a traumatized child," Brooke sneered. "She survived on Dominic’s pity. When I tell him she took a three-million-dollar buyout to move to Vermont, he will believe me."
Just then, the heavy oak doors swung open.
Natalie Mercer walked into the room. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but her posture was straight. She wore a simple dark sweater, her hand resting on the shoulder of young Noah, who clutched his baseball glove tightly.
Brooke immediately switched on her charming smile. "Natalie, darling. Sit down. Emma prepared pancakes for Noah."
Natalie didn’t move toward the table. "Noah, go into the kitchen and ask Emma for some juice, okay? Stay there until I call you."
The boy nodded nervously, cast a fearful look at Brooke, and bolted through the pantry doors.
Once the doors swung shut, Natalie walked to the table, pulled out the chair opposite Vance, and sat down. "You were my mother's lawyer for twelve years, Arthur. She trusted you with her estate."
Vance swallowed hard, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. "Natalie, this is merely an administrative adjustment. With Dominic entering a high-profile marriage, the asset liability needs consolidation. The cottage—"
"The cottage was built by my grandfather," Natalie interrupted, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "My mother lived there when she was sick because she wanted to hear the ocean. She left it to Noah so he would never feel like a guest in his own family's home after his father died."
Brooke placed her coffee cup down with a sharp clink. "Sentimental nonsense. A nine-year-old child does not need seventy acres of waterfront property. The Harrington group needs the port access rights tied to that parcel. In exchange, you will receive a trust fund in your own name, payable monthly—provided you reside outside of Rhode Island."
"You're exiling us," Natalie said.
"I am establishing order," Brooke countered, her eyes narrowing. "Sign the paper, Natalie. Or by noon today, I will have child protective services reviewing the police reports from your husband's accident and your subsequent psychiatric leave. Let's see how long a grieving, unemployed widow keeps custody of a young boy when Dominic’s future wife raises concerns."
Natalie gasped, her face draining of color. "You wouldn't."
"Try me," Brooke whispered.
Before Natalie could answer, the phone on the credenza rang. It was the private line from the London office.
Brooke froze. She gestured sharply at Vance and Natalie to stay silent, cleared her throat, and picked up the receiver.
"Dominic, my love," she said, her voice instantly melting into syrupy sweetness. "Are you out of your morning meetings already?"
Through the line came Dominic’s deep, measured voice. "Just finished, Brooke. The rain in London is relentless today. How is everything at the house?"
"Oh, peaceful as always," Brooke purred, glancing warningly at Natalie. "Natalie and Noah are having breakfast. We were just discussing the floral arrangements for the chapel."
"Good," Dominic said smoothly. "Because family means everything to me, Brooke. You know that, don't you?"
"Of course, darling. More than anything."
"I'll see you sooner than you think," Dominic said.
The line clicked dead.
Brooke lowered the receiver, a cold thrill of victory running through her. She slid the document across the table to Natalie and tapped a silver fountain pen against the line.
"You heard him," Brooke whispered. "Sign."
May you like
Natalie took the pen, her hand trembling. But before the nib touched the paper, the grandfather clock in the corner chimed eight times, and the heavy library doors behind them swung shut with a resounding thud.
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