If you walk out of Apex Media to play live-in nurse to that washed-up recluse, you are dead to this family and blacklisted from Hollywood, my uncle Victor Cross told me five years ago.
Arthur Pendelton’s office was a sanctuary of old money and quiet power. Bookshelves lined with leather-bound legal tomes rose to the ceiling, and the air was thick with the scent of aged paper and wood polish. He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his silver hair neatly combed, his gaze sharp through his spectacles.
I placed the 1974 Stock Trust Deed on his desk. He picked it up, handling the brittle parchment with meticulous care. He examined the signature, the seal, the dated stamps.
“This is indeed it, Leo,” he confirmed, his voice calm and steady. “Eleanor’s original controlling interest in Westwood Pictures. Undisputed. Un-cancelled.”
He leaned back, gesturing to a stack of old, yellowed newspaper clippings beside him. “This, however, is the story Victor’s father wanted everyone to believe.”
He slid a few clippings across the desk. The headlines were sensational, dated August 1974.
“‘WESTWOOD PICTURES ACQUIRED BY EMERGING APEX MEDIA IN SWEEPING INDUSTRY DEAL!’” one screamed. Another read: “‘ELEANOR WESTWOOD STEPS DOWN AMIDST HEALTH CONCERNS.’”
“Eleanor never ‘stepped down,’ Leo,” Arthur said, his eyes darkening. “She was hospitalized. A severe case of pneumonia, complicated by immense stress.”
He tapped a specific paragraph in one of the articles. “Victor’s father, Bartholomew Cross—your grandfather, in a way—used that opportunity. He already held a minority share. He visited her in the hospital, ostensibly offering comfort.”
Arthur’s voice lowered. “He brought a legal document. Not the stock deed you hold, but a fraudulent ‘restructuring agreement.’ He convinced the attending physician to sign off on Eleanor’s temporary ‘incapacity’ for signing business documents.”
“Incapacity?” I asked, my blood running cold. “But she wasn’t.”
“No, she wasn’t. But she was weakened, grief-stricken. Her husband had just died. Her daughter, Chloe, was a teenager, manipulated by Bartholomew into believing her mother was unstable.” Arthur sighed. “She signed, not understanding the full implications, believing it was a temporary measure to protect her assets while she recovered.”
He pointed to another clipping. “‘Apex Media’s visionary founder, Bartholomew Cross, takes the helm, promising a new era!’”
“And just like that,” Arthur finished, “Westwood Pictures, Eleanor’s life’s work, became the unacknowledged foundation of Apex Media. Her name was erased from the credits, from the history books. All while she was still recovering, believing her daughter was safe, and her studio was merely being ‘managed’ through a difficult period.”
I stared at the pristine deed in my hand, then at the faded newspaper articles. Fifty years of history, rewritten by deceit. Eleanor wasn’t just a founder; she was a victim, silenced and stripped of her legacy.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours