Warren would notify the bank in writing that I had been excluded from operations and that no future statement could imply my approval without my signed consent.
Finally, Wrangle Auto would provide me with a complete written release from every current and future obligation connected to the expansion loan, Wrangle Holdings, or transactions made under my initials.
My father read the first page.
Then he pushed it away.
“No.”
Rhett returned to his chair, relieved by the familiar sound of Warren refusing reality.
“This gives outsiders control of our company,” Warren said.
“It gives facts control of your company.”
“I built Wrangle Auto.”
“And you can decide whether your pride is more important than its survival.”
His fist struck the table hard enough to rattle the glasses.
My mother flinched.
Rhett pointed toward the folder.
“She planned this.
She has probably been waiting for the company to struggle so she could take over.”
“I don’t want the company.”
He blinked.
“You expect us to believe that?”
“I wanted a voice when I worked there.
You made sure I didn’t have one.
Now I want my name removed, the truth documented, and the people who still work for Wrangle Auto protected from whatever you created.”
“You’re lying,” he said.
“Everyone wants power.”
“That is something people without restraint tell themselves.”
Rhett looked ready to lunge across the table, but Warren raised one hand.
“If we agree to this review, the bank will see every mistake.”
“Yes.”
“They could reduce the loan.”
“Yes.”
“They could demand personal collateral.”
“Yes.”
“We might have to abandon the headquarters expansion.”
“Yes.”
Each answer stripped another illusion from the table.
Warren looked older by the time he asked, “And if we refuse?”
“Danielle sends the complete Shadow Ledger to the bank’s compliance department tomorrow morning.
My withdrawal remains in place either way.”
My father glanced at the folder.
“You named it?”
“Shadow Ledger.”
Rhett laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“You really think you’re the hero here.”
“No.
I think I’m the person who finally stopped helping you hide.”
A knock came at the door.
Warren’s expression sharpened.
“We said no interruptions.”
The door opened, and Gordon Maddox stepped inside.
His tie was crooked.
His forehead shone with sweat despite the cold evening.
He carried a battered accounting case against his chest.
Rhett stared at him.
“What are you doing here?”
Gordon looked at me, then at Warren.
“Ms.
Keller sent a preservation notice this afternoon,” he said.
