Chapter 4: The Man My Father Buried
“That's impossible.””
My father's voice cracked as he stared at his phone.
For several seconds, nobody in the conference room moved.
Then he slowly lowered the device.
“Who contacted him?”” he demanded.
Martin Shaw folded his hands.
“Mr. Carter, I believe that's a question you should answer.””
My father turned toward me.
“You knew.””
I frowned.
“Knew what?””
“Don't stand there pretending. You knew he was alive.””
I shook my head.
“Dad, I don't even know who you're talking about.””
Blake let out an impatient breath.
“Can someone explain what's happening?””
My father ignored him.
He looked toward the conference room windows, where employees were beginning to gather. Through the glass, I could see Patricia whispering to Daniel.
Then Martin spoke.
“Richard, the notification came from a man named Thomas Whitmore.””
The name meant nothing to me.
But it did something to my father.
His fingers tightened around the phone.
“Thomas is not involved in this company.””
Martin opened his laptop again.
“According to the original incorporation documents, he holds a twelve-percent interest in Riverside Builders.””
“That was settled years ago!””
“Was it?””
My father slammed his briefcase onto the table.
“He abandoned the business. He walked away. He signed everything over.””
Martin calmly turned his screen around.
“I don't see a transfer of his shares.””
My mother looked between them.
“Richard, who is Thomas Whitmore?””
My father rubbed his forehead.
“An old business partner.””
“An old business partner who apparently still owns part of the company,” I said.
He shot me a look.
“Stay out of this.””
I almost smiled.
For four years, I'd been told to stay out of the business while simultaneously being expected to keep it alive.
Now that the truth was emerging, he wanted me silent again.
Martin cleared his throat.
“Mr. Carter, I have received a formal notice from Mr. Whitmore's legal representative. He is requesting an immediate review of all related-party transactions, executive compensation, and the company's ownership records.””
Blake shifted in his chair.
“Why does some random guy get to do that?””
“He isn't random,” my father snapped.
“Then who is he?””
My father looked at his son.
“Someone who should have stayed out of our lives.””
I watched him carefully.
“Dad, why did you tell everyone he was dead?””
My mother turned sharply.
“Richard?””
He didn't answer.
Instead, he picked up his phone and walked toward the door.
Martin stood.
“Please don't leave. We still need your cooperation.””
“I have nothing more to say.””
He pulled the door open.
And froze.
A tall man in a dark gray coat stood outside.
He looked to be in his early sixties, with silver hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a leather folder tucked beneath one arm.
His eyes moved across the room.
Then they stopped on my father.
“Hello, Richard.””
My father looked as though someone had pulled the floor out from beneath him.
“Thomas.””
The man smiled without warmth.
“It's been a long time.””
My mother rose slowly.
“Who is this?””
Thomas glanced at her.
“Abigail. You haven't changed much.””
She stared at him.
“Richard told us you died.””
Thomas's expression hardened.
“Richard told you a lot of things.””
He entered the conference room and placed his folder on the table.
Then he looked at me.
“You must be Maya.””
I nodded.
“Yes.””
He extended his hand.
“Thomas Whitmore. I believe we've been working together longer than either of us realized.””
I shook his hand.
“I'm sorry. I don't understand.””
He pulled out a chair.
“Four years ago, when Riverside was about to collapse, someone contacted me requesting help with the company's restructuring.””
I looked at my father.
He was staring at the folder.
Thomas continued.
“The person who contacted me was you.””
I frowned.
“Me?””
“You were nineteen. You sent me a detailed financial recovery proposal. Forty-three pages, if I remember correctly.””
I remembered writing something similar.
I'd found an old business contact in my father's emails and sent a message asking for advice.
I hadn't expected a response.
“I thought you were just giving me advice,” I said.
Thomas smiled.
“I was. But I also recognized that someone in that company understood its problems better than the man running it.””
My father stepped forward.
“That's enough.””
Thomas didn't look at him.
“Richard, you had already missed two payroll cycles. Three suppliers had threatened legal action. The bank was preparing to call in the debt.””
He opened the folder.
“Maya helped restructure the business. She provided the financial model, secured creditor extensions, and personally contributed the capital needed to keep the company operating.””
I swallowed.
“I thought the agreement was between Dad and the bank.””
“No,” Thomas replied.
“The agreement was between the three controlling parties. You, Richard, and me.””
My father grabbed the folder.
Thomas let him take it.
“Go ahead. Read page fourteen.””
Richard opened the document.
His face changed.
“What is this?””
“Your removal clause.””
My father stared at the page.
Thomas leaned back.
“Apparently, you've forgotten that the agreement allows the controlling members to suspend an executive who conceals related-party transactions or misuses company funds.””
Martin nodded.
“That is consistent with the document I reviewed.””
Blake suddenly stood.
“This is ridiculous. You can't just walk in here and take Dad's company.””
Thomas turned toward him.
“Your father doesn't own the company outright, young man.””
Then he looked at me.
“And neither do I.””
His next words made the room fall silent.
“Maya owns the largest share. I own twelve percent. Richard owns the remainder.””
My mother sat down slowly.
I stared at Thomas.
“Why didn't you contact me earlier?””
His expression softened.
“Because I promised your father I would give him time to correct his mistakes.””
He paused.
“And because I wanted to see whether you would eventually stand up for yourself.””
I didn't know what to say.
For years, I'd believed I was alone.
I'd believed nobody knew what I was doing.
But someone had been watching.
Someone had read my reports.
Someone had understood.
Thomas closed his folder.
“Now, there's one more thing.””
He turned toward Martin.
“I brought the original shareholder correspondence.””
Martin reached for it.
“What correspondence?””
Thomas looked at my father.
“The emails Richard sent me before the restructuring.””
My father took a step forward.
“Don't.””
Thomas opened the folder.
“One of those emails explains exactly why Maya was given controlling ownership.””
He placed a printed page on the table.
I read the first sentence.
Then my breath caught.
If the business survives, Maya should retain control. She's the only one I trust to protect the employees.
I looked at my father.
He couldn't meet my eyes.
Thomas quietly added:
“Those were your father's words, Maya.””
And suddenly, I realized something even more painful than the insults.
My father had known I was capable all along.
He had simply chosen to make me believe otherwise.
But why?
Thomas turned the page.
“There's another email. This one was sent two years later.””
He slid it toward me.
The subject line read:
May you like
*TRANSFER MAYA'S SHARES TO BLAKE.*
And beneath it was my father's signature.
