Chapter 5: The Trust Meeting
Philip Okafor arrived at the Carter Family Trust offices at eight forty-five.
I knew because Patricia texted me from the lobby.
*He's here.
He reviewed everything last night.
He's prepared.*
I was sitting in Patricia's car in the parking structure across the street.
Daniel was beside me.
Mom had gone to Patricia's office to wait.
"You don't have to go in," Daniel said.
"Yes I do."
"Emily—"
"He expects me to be somewhere crying.
Or begging.
Or calling him from a hotel room asking to come home." I checked my reflection in the visor mirror.
The swelling on my cheek had settled into a faint bruise, barely visible under the concealer I had borrowed from Patricia's assistant.
"I'm not going to be any of those things."
We crossed the street at eight fifty-two.
The trust offices were on the fourteenth floor.
Glass doors.
A receptionist who knew my face and looked briefly startled to see me.
"Mrs.
Carter—"
"Good morning," I said, and walked past her toward the boardroom.
Ryan was already inside.
So was Diane.
Claire sat two seats down, a glass of water in front of her, her phone face-down on the table.
Warren, Ryan's uncle, was at the far end.
Philip sat at the opposite head of the table from Ryan, his reading glasses on, a folder open in front of him.
Ryan looked up when I walked in.
His expression moved through three things in less than two seconds.
Surprise.
Calculation.
Then the careful, controlled smile he used when he wanted to appear reasonable.
"Emily.
I didn't think you'd come."
"I'm a co-signatory," I said.
"I'm required to be here."
I sat down across from Philip.
Daniel took the chair beside me.
Ryan's eyes moved to Daniel.
"This is a family trust meeting."
"Daniel is here as my representative," I said.
"Patricia Holt filed the appropriate notice this morning."
Claire picked up her phone.
Ryan put his hand over hers without looking at her.
Philip cleared his throat.
"Shall we begin?"
Ryan leaned forward.
"Before we start, I'd like to raise a procedural matter.
Given the personal circumstances between Emily and myself, I'm requesting that her co-signatory status be temporarily suspended pending the resolution of our legal matter."
"I received that request last night," Philip said.
"I reviewed it."
"And?"
Philip opened his folder.
He removed a single sheet and placed it on the table.
"A suspension of co-signatory status requires authorization from four of the five board members.
I will not be authorizing it." He looked at Ryan steadily.
"That leaves you with three.
You need four."
Ryan's jaw tightened.
"Warren?"
Warren shifted in his chair.
He was sixty-one, heavyset, a man who had always followed Ryan's father and then, by habit, Ryan.
But he was looking at the sheet Philip had placed on the table.
"What is that?" Warren asked.
"A summary of the counter-motion filed this morning in family court," Philip said.
"Along with a witness declaration regarding the photographs submitted in the emergency property petition."
Claire's hand moved under Ryan's.
He pressed down harder.
"Those photographs are legitimate," Ryan said.
"The declaration states otherwise," Philip said.
"It states that the photographs were staged in the Carter family kitchen two Saturdays ago.
It names the individuals present.
It names the photographer."
Claire stood up.
"Sit down," Ryan said.
"Ryan—"
"Sit.
Down."
She sat.
But her face had gone the color of old paper.
Warren was still looking at the sheet.
"Who filed the declaration?"
"I'm not at liberty to say at this stage," Philip said.
"But it has been submitted to the court and is part of the official record as of seven fifty this morning."
Ryan turned to me.
The reasonable smile was gone.
"You have nothing," he said.
"Whatever you think you have, it won't hold."
"Ryan," I said, "you emptied two hundred thousand dollars from our joint accounts last night.
You filed a fraudulent petition with fabricated photographs and coerced witness statements.
You had your attorney on standby before I even left the dining room." I kept my voice level.
"I don't think I'm the one with nothing."
"You assaulted my mother."
"Your mother staged her own bruises for photographs taken two weeks before I threw a bowl of soup at her." I looked at him.
"Which one of us do you think that makes look worse?"
Warren pushed back from the table.
Ryan looked at him.
"Warren."
"I need some air," Warren said.
He stood up, picked up his jacket, and walked out of the boardroom without looking back.
That was four board members.
Ryan had two.
Philip closed his folder.
"The suspension request fails for lack of authorization.
We'll proceed with the standard agenda." He looked down at his papers.
"Item one.
Annual distribution review."
Ryan didn't move for a long moment.
Then he picked up his pen.
Diane, who had sat in rigid silence through all of it, leaned toward Ryan and whispered something.
He shook his head once, sharply.
She sat back.
But her eyes found mine across the table.
And for the first time since the night before, she looked like exactly what she was.
May you like
An old woman who had gambled everything on her son winning.
And was beginning to understand that he might not.
