Chapter 5 - My Mother Arrives
Margaret Sterling arrived in Cabo wearing black trousers and a white blouse.
No entourage.
No jewelry except wedding ring.
She walked into my hospital room and started crying before she reached bed.
“Genevieve.”
I had never seen my mother cry like that.
She touched my face.
Then my stomach.
“Baby?”
“Stable.”
“Thank God.”
I watched her.
Loved her.
Distrusted the situation.
“Mom.”
She looked.
“Did you authorize a Northstar payment for watercraft?”
Her hand stopped.
“What?”
“A charter payment came from Adrian’s expense card.”
She turned toward Dad.
“Hector?”
He said:
“We were waiting to ask.”
“Ask?”
She stood.
“You think I paid for this?”
“No one said that.”
“Victoria did.”
Mom’s face changed.
“What?”
“She says you wanted to end my marriage.”
Margaret stared.
Then laughed once.
Not amused.
Disbelief.
“That woman has never spoken to me in her life.”
“Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Did Adrian know Julian?”
Silence.
That mattered.
“Mom.”
“He attended two Vance Meridian board observer meetings years ago on Northstar’s behalf.”
I stared.
“Julian knew Northstar?”
“Of course he knew the fund.”
“Did he know it was ours?”
“No.”
“Did Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Could Adrian have told him?”
“Yes.”
Dad asked:
“When did you last speak with Adrian?”
“Yesterday morning before Genevieve’s rescue. He said he was flying to New York.”
“Where is he now?”
Margaret took out phone.
Called.
Straight voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
My father looked at me.
Not good.
Mom said:
“He disappears during due diligence sometimes.”
“Does he have authority to make the Cabo payment?”
“Yes, within certain project budgets.”
“Would a jet ski charter be legitimate?”
“No.”
“Could he disguise?”
“Temporarily.”
Mom sat.
“Why would Adrian hurt Genevieve?”
No one answered.
Then she said:
“Unless this is about the audit.”
I looked.
“What audit?”
Her face tightened.
“Hector…”
“Tell her.”
Mom exhaled.
“The trust board ordered a special review of private investments.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Performance discrepancies.”
“Northstar?”
“Yes.”
“What discrepancies?”
“Several investments are marked at values inconsistent with bank records.”
My skin went cold.
“How much?”
“We don’t know.”
“Adrian manages them.”
“Yes.”
“And Vance Meridian is one.”
“Yes.”
I remembered Julian’s recent panic about valuations.
He had asked me:
“Do you ever think private investors lie about where their money comes from?”
At the time, I thought philosophical.
Now?
“What happens if audit finds misconduct?”
“Adrian could lose position. Potentially face civil or criminal exposure depending what happened.”
“Did he know audit started?”
“Yes.”
“Does he know I asked for greater transparency from Mom?”
Margaret looked at me.
“You mentioned concerns at Thanksgiving.”
“I said family investments should be easier for beneficiaries to review.”
“Adrian was there.”
My stomach tightened.
There.
Foreshadow.
He knew I might look.
Then Mom said:
“There’s another reason he might care about your baby.”
My heart stopped.
Dad’s eyes sharpened.
“What?”
Margaret looked at me.
“When your first child is born, your grandfather’s trust instrument gives you an additional voting seat on the family investment committee.”
I had forgotten.
The provision was archaic.
A beneficiary gained governance rights after marriage plus issue.
“That means after she’s born…”
“You can vote on manager removal.”
Adrian Cross’s job.
There was the motive.
Not my death giving him money.
My daughter’s birth giving me power.
If I died before exercising that right, the seat would pass into a temporary independent mechanism until Lucy? Wait unborn child not named yet. We can call baby Elise later. Let's decide name. Genevieve's daughter maybe Amelia Vance? We'll need. Let's use Grace? Need consistent. Let's choose Elise Sterling Vance. Fine.
Mom continued:
“Adrian knew you planned to question the Northstar valuations.”
I stared at my belly.
The attack was not only about Julian’s marriage.
It may have been timed before childbirth because the moment my daughter was born, Adrian became easier to remove.
Then Dad’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face turned cold.
“What?”
Mom stood.
“Hector?”
He ended call.
“Adrian’s plane never went to New York.”
“Where?”
“Private charter landed in San José del Cabo yesterday.”
May you like
The same city.
Adrian had been in Cabo while I was being dragged across the ocean.
