Chapter 8: Callum's Offer
They met at a rooftop bar in the city.
Callum's suggestion.
Ethan arrived to find him already seated, a drink in front of him, dressed in the kind of casual expensive clothing that was designed to look effortless.
He was somewhere in his mid-thirties, broad-shouldered, with the easy confidence of someone who had never seriously doubted his own welcome in any room.
He stood when Ethan approached and extended his hand.
"Callum.
Good of you to come."
Ethan shook it and sat down.
He ordered water.
"I'll get straight to it," Callum said, settling back in his chair.
"I don't have a problem with you personally.
You didn't ask to be dragged into this.
I understand that.
What I have a problem with is a sick old man rewriting his estate in the final months of his life under emotional pressure, and everyone around him pretending that's fine."
"Who's applying emotional pressure?" Ethan asked.
Callum smiled slightly.
"You showing up.
Antoine engineering the introduction.
The whole — reunion narrative." He waved a hand.
"Gerald is not well.
He's on medication that affects his judgment.
His doctors have noted it.
I have documentation."
"What kind of documentation?"
"Medical records.
Statements from his care team." Callum leaned forward slightly.
"Any estate change made while a person is not of sound mind is contestable.
I'm not threatening you — I'm telling you how this looks from a legal standpoint."
Ethan looked at him steadily.
"You're threatening me."
Callum's smile didn't move.
"I'm offering you an alternative.
Gerald's original estate plan was generous.
My mother received her settlement.
Antoine receives the business and the primary assets.
There was a discretionary fund — substantial — that was intended for charitable giving and family support." He paused.
"I'm proposing that fund be redirected.
To you.
Directly.
No legal contest, no drawn-out process, no public airing of Gerald's history." He named a figure.
It was not a small figure.
Ethan looked at the number Callum had written on a card and slid across the table.
He didn't pick it up.
"And in exchange," Ethan said, "I withdraw from any acknowledgment in the estate documents."
"You sign a simple agreement confirming you make no further claim," Callum said.
"You walk away with more than most people see in a lifetime, and nobody has to go through a messy legal process that would be very hard on Gerald in his current condition." He paused.
"And on your mother.
Her name would come up.
Her history with Gerald.
I imagine she'd prefer to keep that private."
There it was.
Ethan had been waiting for it.
"You'd bring my mother into a legal proceeding," Ethan said.
"I'd have no choice," Callum said pleasantly.
"Her relationship with Gerald, the nature of the financial arrangements over the years — it would all become relevant.
These things tend to get uncomfortable." He picked up his drink.
"I'm trying to avoid that.
For everyone."
Ethan looked at him for a long moment.
"How long have you known about me?"
Callum's expression shifted — just slightly.
"Gerald told my mother when they divorced.
She told me."
"So you've known for six years."
"Yes."
"And in six years, you never contacted me.
Never told me my father was alive and knew where I was." Ethan kept his voice level.
"But now that the estate documents have changed, you're very concerned about my wellbeing."
Callum set his drink down.
"I'm being practical."
"You're being afraid," Ethan said.
"That's different."
Callum's easy manner cooled by a degree.
"I'd think carefully about your next move.
Gerald's mental competency is genuinely questionable.
My attorney is prepared to file.
If this goes to court, it becomes public.
Gerald's reputation, your mother's name, Antoine's role in all of this — it all comes out." He leaned forward slightly.
"Or you take what I'm offering and everyone moves on quietly."
Ethan picked up the card.
He looked at the number on it.
Then he set it back on the table, face-down.
"I'm going to need a few days," he said.
Callum relaxed slightly.
"Of course.
Take the time you need."
Ethan stood.
"One question.
The irregularities in the subsidiary account two years ago.
The funds that were redirected.
Was that you?"
Callum's jaw tightened.
"That's a separate matter."
"Was it you?"
"That situation was resolved internally," Callum said carefully.
"It has no bearing on—"
"I'll be in touch," Ethan said.
He left the card on the table and walked to the elevator.
In the lobby, he called Antoine.
"He offered me money to disappear," Ethan said.
"And threatened to drag my mother into court if I don't take it."
Antoine was quiet for one second.
"Are you recording this call?"
"No.
Should I be?"
"From this point forward," Antoine said, "yes.
Download a call recorder tonight.
And Ethan — did he mention the subsidiary account?"
"He didn't deny it when I asked."
Antoine exhaled slowly.
"Gerald's attorney needs to know about this conversation.
Every detail.
Can you write it down tonight while it's fresh?"
"Already planning to."
"Good." A pause.
"How are you doing?"
Ethan pushed through the lobby door into the afternoon air.
"I'm fine," he said.
"I'm angry, actually.
Which feels better than confused."
"Anger is useful," Antoine said.
"Don't let it make you careless."
"I won't." Ethan stopped on the pavement outside.
"He threatened my mother, Antoine."
"I know."
"That was a mistake."
May you like
"Yes," Antoine said quietly.
"It was."
