The tension in the room thickened, a palpable weight. Before Julian or I could respond, Howard Fenn burst into the office, his usually slick hair disheveled.
“An emergency board meeting has been called,” Howard announced, his eyes darting nervously between Marcus and Julian. “The estate trustees, effective immediately.”
Marcus’s face registered surprise, then a grim satisfaction. He obviously hadn’t expected this, but saw an opportunity.
Howard avoided my gaze. “Unless Ms. Lin surrenders the property deed, I will be filing a formal report with the Boston Police Department for grand larceny within the next two hours.”
My stomach dropped. Two hours. That was no time at all.
“This is blackmail,” Julian said, stepping forward. His jaw was tight. “You can’t do this.”
“I can,” Howard shot back, finding a surge of confidence under Marcus’s watchful eye. “The bank records speak for themselves.”
“They’re forged!” I countered, my voice sharp. “The dates are wrong, the ink is off—”
“Irrelevant,” Howard interrupted. “The transaction shows the money in your account, Ms. Lin.”
Julian turned to me, his expression resolute. “Clara, I won’t let them do this to you. I’ll pay the money myself. $450,000. It’s nothing compared to your reputation.”
He pulled out his phone, ready to initiate a transfer. The thought of him sacrificing his own funds, his own stability, for me, sent a pang through my chest. Could I let him?
A frantic knock echoed from the outer office door. Arthur Pendelton’s assistant opened it.
“Ms. Lin,” the assistant said, breathless. “Your daughter is here. Chloe. She’s at the estate gates, insisting on seeing you. She says she has a locked leather briefcase.”
My heart leaped. Chloe. What was she doing here? What could she possibly have?
Should I allow Julian to pay the money to end the conflict quickly and quietly? Or should I wait for Chloe to present the contents of the briefcase before taking any action?
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