Chapter 15 - Rock Bottom
The judge refused to stop the merger without verified originals and authenticated ownership records.
Sterling’s lawyers attacked everything.
Catherine’s handwriting.
Edward’s memory.
Michael’s motive.
Amanda’s recordings.
Even the hotel video.
Richard appeared on television looking calm and wounded.
“My family is being targeted by people exploiting a painful marital dispute.”
Willow watched from the back room of the repair shop.
She felt exhausted.
Lucas stood beside his father during the statement.
That hurt more than she wanted it to.
When reporters asked about the slap, Lucas said only one sentence.
“I deeply regret what happened.”
Not what I did.
What happened.
Michael returned that evening.
No charges had been filed yet.
But the investigation remained open.
He looked ten years older.
Willow sat beside him.
“I dragged you into this.”
Michael turned.
“No.”
“This began before you were born.”
“I should have walked away after Lucas hit me.”
“And let Richard keep what he stole?”
“I don’t care about the money.”
Michael smiled sadly.
“Neither did your mother.”
“That’s why Richard beat us.”
Willow stared at him.
Michael continued.
“This was never about getting rich.”
“It was about forcing a man like Richard to hear the word no.”
Willow leaned against his shoulder.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Michael looked toward the empty space outside.
“My truck still with police?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Willow frowned.
“Why?”
He smiled.
“Because Richard thinks we found everything.”
Her head lifted.
“We didn’t?”
Michael shook his head.
“Your mother never trusted paper alone.”
He stood slowly.
“What are you talking about?”
“Catherine kept one final copy.”
“Where?”
Michael walked to the old workbench.
He touched the wall above it.
“Remember when you were little and I made you count things whenever you were scared?”
Willow remembered the terrace.
Look at the city lights and count them.
“Yes.”
“Your mother taught me that.”
“Why?”
“She liked numbers.”
Michael turned.
“And she hid important things inside them.”
Willow stared at him.
He pointed to an old photograph of the Ford.
The license plate was visible.
CATHERINE had circled four numbers in blue ink.
Willow read them.
Her mind raced.
Forty-nine percent.
Two percent.
Page seventeen.
Michael smiled.
May you like
“Page seventeen was never stolen.”
“It was a map.”
