Chapter 3: The Company He Thought He Had Lost
The next morning, I arrived at Hayes Industrial Group at 8:15 a.m.
I hadn't been inside the building for eleven months.
The glass doors still carried the silver company logo I had designed myself. The marble floor still reflected the ceiling lights. The reception desk still stood beneath the photograph of the first factory I had opened with my father.
But the people inside looked at me differently.
A young receptionist stood up when she saw my wheelchair.
“Good morning, Mr. Hayes.””
Her voice trembled.
“Good morning, Emily.””
She glanced toward the elevator.
“Mr. Collins is expecting you.””
I stopped.
“Derrick?””
She nodded.
“He's been acting as interim chief executive.””
I looked at Daniel.
He said nothing.
I pushed myself toward the elevator.
For eleven months, Derrick had apparently been doing more than sleeping in my house.
The elevator opened on the executive floor.
My assistant, Patricia Lewis, came rushing toward me.
She was in her early fifties, with short silver hair and the habit of carrying three folders at once.
When she saw me, she froze.
“Oh, my God.””
“Hello, Patricia.””
Her eyes filled.
“Mr. Hayes. You're here.””
She bent down and hugged me.
I hadn't realized how much I had missed that simple gesture until she did it.
“Are you all right?”” she asked.
“I'm getting there.””
She pulled back and looked at my legs.
“Can you stand?””
I smiled.
“Would you like to see?””
Her hands flew to her mouth as I slowly rose from the wheelchair.
“Oh, Marcus.””
For a moment, she looked like she might cry.
Then her expression changed.
She glanced toward the glass conference room.
“There's something you need to know.””
“What?””
“Derrick fired three department heads last week.””
“On what grounds?””
“He said they were obstructing the transition.””
“What transition?””
Patricia lowered her voice.
“The sale.””
I looked through the glass.
Derrick was standing at the head of my conference table.
He wore a navy suit and my father's old gold watch.
Around him sat six executives.
One of them was Thomas Reed, my chief financial officer.
Thomas had worked with me for fourteen years.
He knew every major contract, every acquisition, every weakness in our financial structure.
And he was sitting beside Derrick.
Patricia followed my gaze.
“Mr. Reed has been helping him.””
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“Does he know I'm coming?””
“No.””
“Good.””
I walked toward the conference room.
My hip protested with every step.
I ignored it.
When I opened the door, everyone turned.
Derrick's mouth fell open.
“Marcus?””
I pulled out the chair at the far end of the table.
“Good morning.””
Nobody moved.
Derrick recovered first.
“What are you doing here?””
I looked at the company logo on the wall.
“Visiting my office.””
He laughed awkwardly.
“I'm afraid this meeting is confidential.””
“Then you'll be pleased to know I'm the majority shareholder.””
Thomas cleared his throat.
“Marcus, perhaps we should discuss this privately.””
I looked at him.
“Thomas. How long?””
He blinked.
“How long what?””
“How long have you been helping Derrick?””
His face reddened.
“I've been protecting the company's interests.””
“By transferring $4.7 million to a company that doesn't provide any services?””
Derrick slammed his hand on the table.
“That's enough!””
The room went silent.
He pointed at me.
“You don't get to walk in here after abandoning this company for almost a year and start accusing people.””
I took a slow breath.
“I didn't abandon anything. I was recovering from a serious accident.””
“And while you were recovering, someone had to make decisions.””
“You mean someone had to steal my company?””
Derrick leaned forward.
“You have no idea what it takes to run a business.””
I looked at the men and women around the table.
“I built this business with twenty-seven employees and a secondhand delivery truck. Today, we have eleven factories, six hundred employees, and contracts in four countries.””
I turned back to Derrick.
“So don't tell me what it takes.””
Patricia entered the room carrying a folder.
She placed it in front of me.
“I found these in the old archive,” she whispered.
I opened it.
Inside were copies of emails between Derrick and Thomas.
The first was dated seven months earlier.
Once Marcus is declared medically incapable, we can complete the transfer without further delays.
The second was dated three months later.
Vanessa says he still refuses to sign. We need another solution.
And the third was dated just two weeks ago.
If he starts recovering, we move faster. The doctor must not interfere.
I read the last sentence again.
The doctor must not interfere.
My stomach tightened.
“Patricia,” I said quietly, “who sent this?””
“An anonymous account. It was forwarded to my personal email.””
Derrick stood abruptly.
“Those emails are fabricated.””
Thomas looked at the papers.
His face had turned gray.
“Derrick,” he whispered.
“You told me those messages had been deleted.””
The room went completely silent.
I slowly raised my eyes.
“You told him?””
Thomas immediately covered his mouth.
Derrick spun toward him.
“Shut up!””
But the damage was done.
I closed the folder.
“Daniel.””
My attorney stepped into the room.
“Yes?””
“Please explain what happens when someone attempts to sell company assets using forged documents.””
Daniel placed a formal notice on the table.
“Pending the investigation, all disputed transactions can be challenged. We have already notified the relevant financial institutions, and we are seeking an emergency injunction against the unauthorized transfer of shares.””
Derrick laughed.
“You're too late.””
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a document.
“Northbridge Capital completed the purchase at 7:30 this morning.””
I stared at him.
“What?””
He pushed the document toward me.
“It's done, Marcus. You no longer control this company.””
Thomas looked at Derrick.
“You said the payment wouldn't clear until tomorrow.””
Derrick ignored him.
I read the document.
It showed a completed transfer of 62 percent of the company.
But something didn't make sense.
I looked at the buyer's name.
Northbridge Capital Holdings.
Then I noticed the signature of the company's authorized representative.
A name I recognized.
A name I hadn't seen in almost twenty years.
“Daniel,” I said slowly.
He leaned over my shoulder.
His expression changed.
“That's impossible.””
“What?””
Daniel pointed at the signature.
“The authorized representative for Northbridge Capital is listed as Eleanor Hayes.””
My mother.
I hadn't spoken to her in seventeen years.
She had disappeared from my life after my father died, leaving behind a letter saying she wanted nothing to do with the family business.
I had spent years believing she had moved overseas.
I looked at Daniel.
“Find her.””
He nodded.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A single message appeared.
Marcus, stop looking into Northbridge. You don't know who you're dealing with.
A second message arrived immediately afterward.
And if you want to know why your accident happened, ask your wife what she paid the truck driver.
My fingers went cold.
I looked through the glass wall toward the elevator.
Vanessa was standing there.
May you like
She had just arrived.
And she was holding a folder with my mother's name written across the front.
