Eleanor lowered herself into her chair.
I looked at Leonard.
“Why?”
“That is addressed in Mr.
Whitlock’s letter and supporting documents.”
Adrian struck the table with his palm.
“My father would never give her control of my company.”
“It was not your company,” said the accountant.
Adrian turned toward him with such fury that the man flinched.
The older employee beside the window finally spoke.
“Your father reminded us of that more than once.”
Adrian pointed toward the door.
“All of you work for me.”
“Not as of this morning,” Leonard said.
He removed a second document from the folder.
“Mr.
Whitlock exercised his authority as majority shareholder to suspend you from all executive functions upon his death, pending an independent audit.”
Lillian stood.
“Adrian, what audit?”
“Sit down.”
“What audit?”
He did not answer.
Leonard opened the blueprint tube I had brought and eased the plans onto the table.
The paper curled at the edges until he placed paperweights at each corner.
It was a development proposal for a steep parcel overlooking Monterey Hills.
Adrian had once described it to me as the project that would establish his legacy: twelve luxury homes, a private access road, and glass balconies cut into the ridge.
Samuel’s red mark crossed the eastern slope.
Do not let them build on this.
Leonard turned to me.
“You examined these?”
“Yes.
The preliminary soil report identified instability after heavy rain.
The design could not be safely approved without substantial reinforcement and a reduced footprint.”
“Did you tell anyone at Whitlock Development?”
“I sent Samuel a written assessment.
I also told Adrian, months before our divorce.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“You gave me an opinion.
You were not retained by the company.”
“I told you the retaining plan was inadequate.”
“You said it would be expensive.”
“I said people could be hurt.”
Lillian looked from him to the blueprint.
“You told me the permits were nearly approved.”
“They were.”
“No,” I said.
“They weren’t.”
Leonard slid a municipal notice across the table.
The print faced downward, unreadable from where Adrian stood, but the official seal was visible.
“The application was rejected twice,” Leonard said.
“After the second rejection, a new submission was made using a professional authorization bearing Ms.
Rowan’s name.”
I felt the room tilt.
“My name?”
Dana had warned me that Samuel’s message on the blueprint might relate to more than a dangerous design.
She had searched the public planning index, but several documents were sealed while the permit dispute remained active.
