The Mountain Lodge Ultimatum: How VP Maeve Hollister Confronted Her Predatory Cousin Over a $45 Million Ranch Betrayal With Her Father’s Enforcers
Garrett stood by the fireplace, his shoulders slumped. He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, a gesture of exasperation. “You can’t do this, Maeve. You can’t just dictate terms. What about my position? My equity?”
I ignored him for a moment and turned my attention to Silas Finch, who was practically melting into the wall beside the grandfather clock. Silas had been a peripheral figure in Garrett’s scheme, but a crucial one. His fraudulent appraisal and notary stamps were the linchpin of Garrett’s supposed legality.
“Silas,” I said, my voice cutting through the heavy silence. “Come forward.”
Silas flinched, his eyes darting to Garrett, then back to me. He took a hesitant step.
“You’re a certified real-estate appraiser, a notary public,” I continued, my gaze unblinking. “You know the ethical guidelines. You know the legal repercussions of falsifying property valuations, particularly for a public company. And you know what notary fraud entails.”
Silas swallowed hard. “I… I was just following orders, Ms. Hollister. Mr. Hollister assured me everything was legitimate.”
“Legitimate?” I scoffed, picking up the appraisal report again. “You valued land with known mineral deposits and seventy years of agricultural value at a quarter of its market price. You didn’t just ‘follow orders,’ Silas. You participated in a felony.”
Garrett bristled. “She’s bluffing, Silas. She has no proof you falsified anything.”
“Oh, but I do,” I countered smoothly. I pulled out my phone. “Remember our last quarterly board meeting, Garrett? The one where you proudly announced the projected sale price for Blackwood Ridge, outlining the potential profits from the mineral rights lease to the Kingston Mining Group?”
Garrett’s face tightened. “That was a preliminary discussion.”
“It was on a recorded corporate call,” I corrected him. “Minutes were taken. And it places the value of this land, with the mineral rights, at closer to seventy million dollars. Your appraiser, Silas, put it at fifteen million. That’s a fifty-five million dollar discrepancy. A very clear, very deliberate undervaluation.”
Silas’s face went completely ashen. He knew the difference between a minor discrepancy and a deliberate, documented act of fraud. Notary fraud, especially when tied to corporate valuation manipulation, carried severe penalties. Prison time. Loss of license. Ruined life.
“And your notary stamp, Silas,” I pressed on. “It’s on all of Garrett’s ‘official’ documents. Did you actually witness my signature on these proposed liquidation papers? Because I haven’t signed a single thing. Which means you’ve certified documents with a false signature, or certified my agreement without my presence. That’s a state offense. Very serious.”
Silas’s knees seemed to buckle. He knew the jig was up. He also knew that federal prosecution for corporate fraud and state prosecution for notary fraud were two entirely different beasts. The latter was far more immediate, far less forgiving of a “just following orders” defense.
“I… I can revoke the appraisal,” Silas stammered, his voice barely audible. “I can submit a corrected valuation. Right now. I have my laptop here. My digital notary seal.”
“Not just revoke it,” I corrected him, my voice firm. “You will publicly, on camera, admit that this initial valuation was prepared under duress and contained deliberately misleading figures. You will state that you’ve reviewed the 1984 Hollister Estate Trust Deed, and that based on its Section 9B, Subsection Four, this sale cannot proceed without the consent of the named council.”
Garrett took a step forward, fury in his eyes. “You can’t make him do that, Maeve! He’s my employee!”
“He’s a certified public official, Garrett,” I shot back. “And he’s about to face either my father’s men and a federal investigation, or he’s going to save his career right now. Which one will it be, Silas?”
Silas didn’t hesitate. His hands shook as he pulled out his laptop and turned it on. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it right now. Anything. Just… please don’t involve the authorities.”
I pulled out my phone again, switching it to video recording. “State your name, Silas Finch, the date, and your current location. Then state for the record that you are retracting your prior appraisal of Hollister Agribusiness land assets, dated [specific date from the outline/prior chapter if given, otherwise invent one like ‘November 15th, last year’], acknowledging that it contained deliberately manipulated figures and was prepared under duress. Confirm that the 1984 Hollister Estate Trust Deed, Section 9B, Subsection Four, is a legally binding document that prevents the current proposed sale.”
Silas gulped, but he began to speak, his voice trembling but clear enough for the recording. He laid out the admission, his confession stripping Garrett of his entire legal pretense for the sale. The cornerstone of his scheme was crumbling, recorded for posterity.
Garrett watched, defeated. The rifle lay forgotten at his feet. The game was truly over for him.
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