Chapter 8: Before Friday
Daniel filed the challenge at six forty-seven p.m.
By nine o'clock that evening, the court had issued an emergency preservation order blocking any changes to the company share register until a hearing could be held.
Nathan's attorney called Daniel four times in the following hour.
Daniel let the calls go to voicemail.
I was at Daniel's office when the confirmation came through.
He set his phone on the desk and looked at me across the stacks of paper.
"It holds until the hearing," he said.
"Friday morning.
Nine a.m."
"Same time they were planning to file the transfer."
"Yes." He almost smiled.
"The judge will have the original trust documents, your father's sworn statement, the forensic report on the forged signature, and the security footage from the store." He paused.
"Nathan's attorney is going to argue that the footage is prejudicial."
"Let them argue."
"Emma." He leaned forward.
"I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer honestly.
Your father's statement — it confirms that he is alive and that the death certificate was falsified.
That opens a separate legal matter entirely.
For him, and potentially for your mother."
"I know."
"Are you prepared for that?"
I looked at the preservation order on the desk.
My name was on it.
Emma Hale.
Not Emma Voss, the name Nathan had given me when we married.
Hale.
My grandfather's name.
The name on the 1987 documents.
"My mother made her choices," I said.
"My father made his.
I'm not responsible for the consequences of what they did." I paused.
"But I'm not going to protect them from those consequences either."
Daniel nodded.
"There's one more thing," he said.
He slid a single sheet across the desk.
"This came in an hour ago.
From Nathan's attorney."
I picked it up.
It was a letter.
Two paragraphs.
Nathan was withdrawing his cooperation with the secondary beneficiary claim.
He was acknowledging that the share transfer document had been signed without the shareholder's knowledge or consent.
He was not admitting to fraud directly — his lawyer had been careful about that — but the withdrawal was clear.
"He's cutting his losses," I said.
"He's trying to reduce his exposure before the hearing.
If he withdraws voluntarily, his attorney can argue he was misled by others.
It won't save him from the footage, but it might reduce the charge."
"Does it affect the hearing?"
"No.
The hearing proceeds regardless.
The trust clause still triggers at midnight Friday.
The only question now is whether your name is on the register when it does."
I set the letter down.
"It will be," I said.
I left the office at ten-fifteen.
The street outside was quiet.
A light rain had started, the kind that doesn't quite commit.
I stood on the pavement for a moment and looked up at the dark sky.
My phone buzzed.
A message from a number I now recognized.
*I gave the statement.
I hope it was enough.
— R*
I looked at the initial for a long time.
Then I put the phone in my pocket and walked to my car.
I didn't reply.
Not yet.
There were things that needed to happen first.
A hearing.
A judge.
A ruling.
And after that, if there was space for it, a conversation I wasn't ready to have tonight.
May you like
But I would be.
Eventually.
