“Then be very careful with your next sentence.”
Robert lowers his voice.
“Nathan moved investor money through entities I couldn’t identify. When I questioned him, he said Serena had municipal contacts and private guarantees. I told him to slow down. He said the project was too big to pause.”
A chill moves through me.
“What private guarantees?” I ask.
Robert pauses.
“Your house. That’s what he implied.”
My throat closes.
The Oakridge house was not just property. It was my grandmother’s inheritance, the house with the magnolia tree in the courtyard, the one I restored room by room while Nathan dismissed my design work as decorative.
He had not only forged my signature.
He had fed my inheritance to his ambition.
Vivian tells Robert to put everything in writing before sunrise.
He agrees too fast.
That means he is afraid of more than embarrassment.
At 4:11 a.m., Nathan leaves a voicemail.
Ethan plays it through a separate device while Vivian records.
Nathan’s voice begins low and controlled.
“Caroline, this is enough. You walked out, fine. You made your little statement, fine. But if you touch the firm, if you send anything to anyone, I promise you will regret it.”