Chapter 4 - The Ticking Clock
Nathaniel spent his nights in the office, but his mind was not on real estate. He was working with a private firm to audit Vivien’s entire life. He needed a smoking gun, something that would hold up in court and keep her away from his family forever.
He was in the middle of a conference call when his lawyer walked into his office, his face pale.
"Nathaniel, we have a problem. The board of directors has been leaked information—fabricated information—that you have been embezzling funds to pay for 'unauthorized household expenditures.' They’re calling for an emergency session tomorrow morning to vote on your suspension."
Nathaniel sat back, a bitter smile on his lips. "She’s not waiting. She’s going for the jugular."
"There’s more," the lawyer added. "They have an affidavit signed by a local doctor claiming you’ve been drugging your mother to keep her 'compliant.'"
"That’s insane," Nathaniel spat. "My mother has been in the hospital for a week."
"They claim it happened before the accident. It’s all part of a narrative they’re building to show you’re unfit to lead."
Nathaniel knew what he had to do. He couldn't play by the rules anymore. If he didn't stop her by morning, he would lose the company, and he would lose the leverage he needed to protect his mother.
He arrived back at the estate at 11:00 PM. The house was quiet, save for the soft glow of lights in the foyer. He walked in and headed straight for the library. He needed the hard evidence he knew was there—the proof of Vivien’s sabotage.
He caught sight of Rosa in the hallway, looking terrified. She signaled him, leading him toward the kitchen.
"Mr. Whitmore," she whispered, pulling the digital devices from her pocket. "She’s been recording everything. And she’s planning something for the board meeting tomorrow. She’s not just going to take the company; she’s going to have you committed."
Nathaniel stared at the devices in his hand. This was the proof he needed. "Rosa, you’ve done more than you know. You need to leave the house. Take Lily and go to my brother’s home in the city. Here is the address."
"I can't leave you here with her," Rosa said, her eyes filled with tears.
"I’m the target, Rosa. If you’re here, you’re in danger. Please, for Lily."
Rosa hesitated, then nodded. She grabbed Lily from the laundry room and slipped out the side door, disappearing into the dark of the estate.
Nathaniel took a deep breath. He walked into the library and turned on the lights. He knew Vivien was watching. He deliberately sat at the desk, pulled out the phone, and started making calls, loud and clear, about the documents he had supposedly found.
He was playing the part of the unsuspecting victim, leading her into the room.
Within minutes, the door opened. Vivien stood there, dressed in a sleek black silk robe. She didn't look like a woman who was about to lose everything. She looked like a woman who was ready for the kill.
"Nathaniel," she said softly. "Working late?"
"I’m finishing the audit, Vivien," Nathaniel said, looking up with a forced, tired smile. "I finally know what’s been happening to the accounts. I know about the offshore firms."
Vivien paused. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for any sign that he had found the recordings. "I don't know what you’re talking about."
"I think you do," Nathaniel said. "I’m going to the board meeting tomorrow, and I’m going to present everything."
Vivien walked toward him, her hand moving toward the hidden pistol she had clearly brought into the room. "You’re not going to any meeting, Nathaniel."
"Are you going to kill me, Vivien? Like you tried to kill my mother?"
Vivien laughed, a cold, dry sound. "Your mother was a nuisance. You are the obstacle. And in business, obstacles must be removed."
She raised the weapon.
"Do you really think I didn't see you coming?" Nathaniel asked, his voice steady.
Suddenly, the library door burst open. Not with the police, but with his mother, Margaret Whitmore, wheelchair-bound but holding a heavy, ornate brass lamp, flanked by two armed security guards Nathaniel had hired earlier that day.
"Put the gun down, you pathetic little vulture," Margaret said, her voice as hard as stone.
Vivien’s face twisted in rage, but as she looked at the security guards, the reality of her situation hit her. The game was up.
She dropped the weapon, her knees buckling.
May you like
"Call the police," Nathaniel said to the guards.
As Vivien was led out of the house in handcuffs, Nathaniel collapsed into the desk chair. It was over.
