Chapter 27: Seventy-Two Hours to the Board

The blank signature line refused to leave my mind.

No family member had officially identified Nathaniel's body.

No one had signed the release.

For three years, I had mourned beside a grave that might not belong to my brother.

"Who authorised the burial?" I asked.

Victor slid another document across the desk.

"Ashford Holdings' legal department."

Damien frowned.

"That's impossible."

"A corporation can't claim a body."

"Not legally," Victor replied.

"Unless the family signs a power of attorney."

"Did anyone?"

"Not that I can find."

I studied the paperwork.

The authorisation carried a familiar signature.

Marcus Ellery.

"Your legal director," I said quietly.

Damien nodded once.

"He's been with the company for almost twenty years."

"Long before I became CEO."

"Then someone above you gave the order," Victor said.

The room became very still.

Damien didn't argue.

For the first time, he looked like a man discovering how little control he truly possessed.

"There's something else," Victor continued.

He opened his laptop.

A calendar filled the screen.

Several dates had been circled in red.

"Do you know what happens in exactly seventy-two hours?"

Damien looked once before answering.

"The quarterly board meeting."

"Not just any meeting," Victor corrected.

"The annual voting session."

"Every director will be present."

"Including Richard Ashford."

My eyes shifted to Damien.

"Your father never misses it," he said.

"No."

"Even after retiring from daily operations."

"Who controls the votes?" I asked.

"Officially?"

"The board."

"Unofficially?"

Damien exhaled slowly.

"My father."

"If this conspiracy reaches the company..."

"It will reach him first."

Victor leaned forward.

"That's exactly why the next seventy-two hours matter."

"After the board meeting, documents can disappear."

"Witnesses can change their statements."

"Records can be rewritten."

"You have three days before everyone closes ranks."

"What do we need?" I asked.

"Proof," Victor answered immediately.

"Not theories."

"Not suspicions."

"Evidence strong enough that even the board can't bury it."

Damien folded his arms.

"Where do we start?"

"With Raven Capital."

"I've already searched every public database," Damien said.

"Nothing links them to Ashford Holdings."

"Public databases aren't the problem," Victor replied.

"Private ledgers are."

"Nathaniel believed Raven Capital had a silent investor."

I remembered the words written across the Hawthorne file.

"Follow the silent partner."

"Exactly," Victor said after I repeated the sentence.

"Find the silent partner and everything else follows."

My phone vibrated.

One message.

Evelyn Cross.

"Meet tonight."

"I found something your brother hid."

I showed Victor.

He nodded.

"Go."

"She's one of the few people Nathaniel trusted outside this room."

"What about the board?" Damien asked.

"You have your own assignment."

"Which is?"

"Watch your executives."

"Don't accuse anyone."

"Don't confront anyone."

"Just watch who becomes nervous once the media starts asking questions."

Damien slipped the hospital photograph into his briefcase.

"And if the guilty party notices?"

"Good," Victor answered.

"Pressure creates mistakes."

An hour later, Damien drove me toward the old Riverside Library.

Neither of us mentioned the divorce.

Neither of us mentioned Colette.

Too many larger questions had replaced them.

Halfway there, Damien broke the silence.

"Vivian..."

"Yes?"

"If Nathaniel is alive..."

"Don't."

"Why?"

"Because I can't survive hoping for something that isn't real."

He nodded.

"Fair enough."

The library stood almost empty.

Most of its windows were dark.

Only a reading room near the back remained lit.

"I'll wait outside," Damien said.

"No."

"If Evelyn sees us together, she'll stop talking."

"You're probably right."

I stepped inside alone.

Evelyn Cross sat at a long oak table surrounded by old newspapers.

She looked younger than I expected.

Sharp eyes.

Simple clothes.

A woman who blended easily into crowds.

"Mrs. Ashford," she said.

"Call me Vivian."

"Only if you call me Evelyn."

I smiled faintly.

"Agreed."

She placed a thick envelope on the table.

"Nathaniel gave me this the night before he disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

She caught herself.

"The night before the accident."

I noticed the correction.

She had almost said disappeared.

"What's inside?"

"Copies."

"Not originals."

"He never trusted me with those."

I opened the envelope.

Inside were financial transfers.

Property deeds.

Company registrations.

Every document carried one name.

Raven Capital.

But one sheet stood apart from the others.

A shareholders' register.

Most investor names had been blacked out.

Only one remained visible.

"Minority Shareholder."

"V. Ashford."

I stared at it.

"Vivian Ashford?"

"No," Evelyn said.

"Three years ago you weren't an Ashford yet."

"Then who?"

She pointed to the initial again.

"Not Vivian."

"Victoria Ashford."

"Who's Victoria?"

Evelyn held my gaze.

"Richard Ashford's younger sister."

"According to every official record..."

"She died twenty-five years ago."

"But Nathaniel believed she never did."

Before I could respond, every light inside the reading room suddenly went out.

Darkness swallowed the library.

Someone screamed in the hallway.

A loud crash echoed from the entrance.

Then footsteps.

Running toward us.