Chapter 5: The Call from Victor Kane
Richard stared at the phone as though it had become a weapon.
“It’s Kane.””
Arthur stepped closer.
“Answer it.””
Richard didn't move.
I watched the screen vibrate in his hand.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Dad,” Arthur said, “answer him.””
Richard finally swiped across the screen.
“Victor.””
A man's voice came through the speaker.
Calm.
Almost friendly.
“Richard. I was beginning to wonder whether you still remembered me.””
Richard glanced at me.
“I remember.””
“Good. Then you'll remember our agreement.””
“We don't have an agreement.””
A quiet laugh came through the phone.
“Not yet.””
I stepped closer.
Richard noticed.
His eyes widened.
Kane continued.
“I heard Claire Morgan is with you.””
Richard's face went rigid.
Arthur looked at me.
I reached for the phone.
Richard handed it over.
“This is Claire.””
There was a brief silence.
Then Kane said,
“Finally.””
His voice was smoother than I expected.
“I was beginning to think I'd never get the pleasure.””
“You've had enough pleasure already.””
Another soft laugh.
“I like that.””
“You forged my signature.””
“I didn't.””
“You acquired my private information.””
“I acquired information that was available to someone willing to sell it.””
“Danielle.””
He chuckled.
“Efficient woman.””
My jaw tightened.
“You've been planning this for months.””
“For years, actually.””
I looked at Richard.
“Why Northbridge?””
“Because Northbridge was always going to become important.””
I walked toward the study.
Arthur followed.
“Who introduced you to Havenridge?””
Kane didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said, “You're asking the wrong question.””
“Then give me the right one.””
“Ask who introduced me to you.””
I stopped.
“What does that mean?””
“You think I discovered your company by accident?””
“No.””
“Good.””
“Then explain.””
He laughed softly.
“I don't think you'll enjoy the answer.””
“Try me.””
There was another pause.
Then Kane said,
“Your father knew me.””
The world seemed to stop.
I stared at the phone.
“My father is dead.””
“I know.””
“How did you know him?””
Richard stepped forward.
“Claire—”
I raised one hand.
Kane answered.
“We did business together.””
My throat tightened.
“What kind of business?””
“Logistics.””
I looked toward Richard.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
“You know about this,” I said.
Richard remained silent.
Kane laughed.
“Of course he does.””
I turned back to the phone.
“What did my father do for you?””
“He didn't work for me.””
“Then what?””
“He helped finance my first transportation network.””
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“My father didn't have that kind of money.””
“Not personally.””
I frowned.
Kane continued.
“He used an intermediary.””
“Who?””
“You'll find the answer in your company's oldest records.””
I stiffened.
Northbridge.
Eight years ago.
Three employees.
A rented office.
A startup loan that I had always believed came from a regional business lender.
But my father had insisted on helping me establish the company.
He had died six months before Northbridge signed its first major contract.
I'd always thought he'd simply believed in me.
Now another possibility surfaced.
“You funded Northbridge.””
Kane's voice became almost playful.
“Partially.””
Richard finally spoke.
“That's enough.””
Kane ignored him.
“Your father had a vision. He believed the logistics industry was changing. He believed your company could become something significant.””
I stared at the floor.
“Why did he never tell me?””
“Because he wanted you to believe you built it alone.””
I swallowed.
“Did you own part of Northbridge?””
“No.””
“Then what did you want?””
“Repayment.””
I waited.
“And something else.””
“What?””
“A promise.””
“What promise?””
Kane's voice dropped.
“That if your company ever became valuable enough, you'd sell.””
I felt a cold pressure behind my ribs.
“I never agreed to that.””
“Not personally.””
“Then who did?””
“Your father's estate.””
The phone nearly slipped from my hand.
I looked toward Richard.
He had gone pale.
“Did you know about this?”” I asked him.
Richard didn't answer.
Arthur looked at his father.
“Dad?””
Richard finally spoke.
“Your father's name appeared in some old financing documents.””
I stared at him.
“You knew.””
“I knew there had been an agreement.””
“You knew Kane financed me.””
“I knew there was a private investment connected to your father.””
I laughed bitterly.
“You knew and never told me.””
“We were trying to protect you.””
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
I looked at Arthur.
“That's becoming the favorite excuse in this family.””
Kane laughed through the phone.
“You see the problem, Claire?””
“What problem?””
“You've spent eight years believing Northbridge was entirely yours.””
I looked at the company keys in my hand.
“It is.””
“Legally?””
“Yes.””
“Emotionally?””
I said nothing.
“That's where it becomes complicated.””
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“What do you want?””
“Now we're having a productive conversation.””
“Tell me.””
“I want Havenridge.””
I frowned.
“You could have it without me.””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because Havenridge isn't the objective.””
I felt my pulse quicken.
“What is?””
“Northbridge.””
The words landed quietly.
Almost gently.
“I won't sell.””
“I know.””
“Then we're done.””
“Not yet.””
Kane paused.
“You're thinking too narrowly.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means I don't need you to sell.””
He hung up.
I stared at the phone.
“Hello?””
Nothing.
The call had ended.
Arthur looked at me.
“What did he say?””
I handed him the phone.
“Everything.””
Richard moved toward the desk.
“What exactly did he tell you?””
I faced him.
“That my father financed part of Northbridge.””
Richard closed his eyes.
“Claire…”
“Did he?””
“Yes.””
The answer was quiet.
Too quiet.
I felt betrayed all over again.
“How much?””
“I don't know.””
“You don't know?””
“I saw the original structure years ago.””
“Then tell me.””
Richard shook his head.
“Your father kept most of it private.””
I looked at Arthur.
“You knew about this?””
“No.””
“I believe you.””
He seemed surprised.
“But that doesn't mean I trust you.””
He nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.””
I looked back at Richard.
“What exactly did my father promise Kane?””
Richard hesitated.
“We need the original contract.””
“Where is it?””
“I don't know.””
“Who would know?””
He stared at me.
Then, reluctantly, he said,
“There was a lawyer.””
“What lawyer?””
“Margaret Bell.””
The name struck me.
“Margaret?””
Arthur looked confused.
“You know her?””
“She was my father's attorney.””
I remembered her.
A tall woman with silver hair who had attended my father's funeral and then disappeared from my life.
I had been nineteen.
Northbridge had not existed yet.
Richard continued.
“She handled the trust.””
“What trust?””
He said nothing.
I stepped toward him.
“What trust, Richard?””
Arthur looked at his father.
“Dad, what aren't you telling her?””
Richard's shoulders dropped.
“Your father's estate wasn't simple.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“He created a private holding trust before he died.””
“For what?””
“For Northbridge.””
I stared at him.
“What did it own?””
“Nothing.””
“Then why create it?””
Richard hesitated.
“To protect the company from outside claims.””
I understood immediately.
“From Kane.””
“Yes.””
I felt something close to relief.
Then Richard added,
“Temporarily.””
The relief vanished.
“What does temporarily mean?””
“Until the company reached a certain valuation.””
“What valuation?””
“Ten million dollars.””
I stared at him.
Northbridge had crossed ten million years ago.
“What happened when it did?””
Richard looked away.
“That was when the trust could be challenged.””
My heartbeat accelerated.
“By whom?””
“Kane.””
I shook my head.
“But nobody challenged it.””
“Not publicly.””
The room became silent.
Arthur stepped forward.
“Dad.””
Richard looked at his son.
“You need to understand something. Victor Kane has been waiting for years.””
“For me?”” Arthur asked.
“For Northbridge.””
I looked down at the photograph still open on my phone.
Victor beside Arthur.
Five months ago.
Months before I knew any of this.
I suddenly remembered the first time Arthur had mentioned him.
It had been at dinner.
Arthur had joked about meeting “an old family acquaintance.””
I had laughed.
I'd asked who.
He said, “Nobody important.””
I looked at him.
“You lied to me.””
Arthur's face tightened.
“I didn't know the whole story.””
“But you knew his name.””
“Yes.””
“And you met him.””
“Yes.””
“While dating me.””
“I told you why.””
“To ask whether I was ambitious.””
Arthur stepped closer.
“He asked me questions. I answered some.””
“Which ones?””
“I already told you.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“You forgot one.””
“What?””
“Did he ask whether you intended to marry me?””
Arthur froze.
I watched his expression change.
That was the answer.
My voice dropped.
“He did, didn't he?””
Arthur swallowed.
“Yes.””
Richard looked at him sharply.
“You told him?””
“I didn't know why he was asking.””
“What did you say?”” I asked.
Arthur's eyes dropped.
“I said we were serious.””
“And?””
“I said I thought I'd propose.””
The room seemed to tilt.
“When?””
“About a month before I did.””
“So Kane knew you were going to propose.””
“Yes.””
“And yet you kept pretending none of this existed.””
“I was trying to figure it out.””
“By marrying me?””
“No.””
His answer was immediate.
“No, Claire.””
I studied his face.
For the first time, I believed he was frightened too.
But fear didn't make him innocent.
It only made him human.
My phone vibrated.
Maya.
I answered.
“Tell me you have something.””
“I do.””
“What?””
“It's about Danielle.””
I waited.
“She didn't just access your ownership records.””
“What did she do?””
“She copied them.””
“How?””
“From a backup server.””
“Can we prove it?””
“Yes.””
“Then send me everything.””
Maya hesitated.
“There's one more thing.””
“What?””
“We traced the original file she copied.””
“Where did it go?””
Maya lowered her voice.
“To Arthur's personal email.””
I looked up.
Arthur was standing three feet away.
His face changed as soon as he heard his name.
I ended the call.
“Arthur.””
“Yes?””
I held out my phone.
“Give me your phone.””
His expression hardened.
“Claire—”
“Now.””
He didn't move.
I stepped closer.
“I'm not asking whether you love me.””
He stared at me.
“I'm asking whether you're hiding something.””
“I’m not.””
“Then give it to me.””
He slowly pulled his phone from his pocket.
Before he handed it over, the screen lit up.
One new email.
No sender.
No subject.
Just an attachment.
Arthur glanced at it.
Then at me.
I took the phone.
The attachment contained a single photograph.
It showed me as a child, standing beside my father outside the first warehouse that had ever belonged to our family.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
*He never told her the truth.*
May you like
And beneath that, in fresh black ink:
*You will. Tonight.*
