Chapter 3
When I got home, the house was suffocatingly quiet.
I walked upstairs into Rue's bedroom. My nine-year-old daughter was asleep, her small hands clutching a stuffed rabbit. On her nightstand lay a family drawing -- except her father's face was completely covered in dark black crayon lines.
My heart broke. I sat on the edge of the bed, gently smoothing her hair. I didn't break down, but my hand trembled against her blanket. Even a child knew he was gone.
Downstairs, the front door slammed shut.
Voss marched into the dimly lit living room, throwing his coat onto the sofa. "We need to talk about your attitude, Noelle. The board members saw you leave the gala early."
I walked down the stairs, standing on the bottom step.
"You touched the foundation's primary reserve," I said, my voice steady.
"It's my foundation!" Voss barked, walking up to me. "My family name is on the building! You're just the administrator. Tomorrow morning, I'm filing a motion to transfer the administrative rights to Cosima."
He stepped up, standing inches from my face. "You have no leverage, Noelle. You don't own the Group. You don't own the land. If you fight me, I'll cut your allowance to zero and take sole custody of Rue."
He was using my daughter to threaten me.
I didn't flinch.
"You can file the motion tomorrow," I whispered.
"I don't need to wait for tomorrow," Voss sneered. He pulled out his work tablet, opened the trust management portal, and entered his authorization pin to confirm the $500,000 transfer to Cosima's account. "Watch me take it."
He pressed Execute.
A sharp, high-pitched error tone sounded from the tablet screen.
A yellow caution banner popped up:
[PENDING AUDIT: Transaction requires secondary founder verification within 24 hours. Notice dispatched to Primary Guarantor.]
Voss frowned, tapping the screen aggressively. "What is this? What secondary verification? I'm the primary trustee!"
"You're the primary trustee," I said quietly, looking down at him. "But I am the primary guarantor of the original land grant."
Voss's phone rang instantly in his hand -- an automated call from his legal counsel. On his screen, a private email notification popped up: an alert that I had just requested a formal manual review of all joint collateral transactions.
It wasn't a knockout punch. But Voss's face darkened as he realized he couldn't touch the half-million dollars tonight.
He glared at me, his eyes filled with a sudden, vicious resolve. "You want to play procedural games, Noelle? Fine. Let's see what the board says when I present the photos of your 'unstable mental state' at the emergency meeting tomorrow."
He turned and walked out, slamming the door.
I sat on the bottom step. My hands were freezing. How was I going to protect my daughter when the sun came up?