Chapter 5: The Man Who Planned It All
Dominic Hartwell was on the fourteenth floor.
Charlotte knew this because the elevator panel showed a keycard access log β and Gerald had the master override.
He handed it to her without being asked.
She rode up alone.
The fourteenth floor was executive territory.
Thick carpet.
Framed photographs of the Solmere properties going back decades.
Her grandfather in one of them, standing in front of the original building.
Her mother in another, younger than Charlotte had ever known her, laughing at something off-camera.
Charlotte stopped in front of that photograph for exactly two seconds.
Then she kept walking.
Dominic Hartwell's temporary office was at the end of the corridor.
The door was slightly open.
She could hear him before she reached it.
"β doesn't matter what the document says, the filing sequence gives us priority β" He stopped.
Charlotte pushed the door open.
He was on the phone.
Tall, well-dressed, somewhere in his mid-fifties.
The kind of man who had spent decades being the most important person in every room he entered.
He looked at Charlotte the way people look at something that should not exist.
He lowered the phone slowly.
"Miss Vale," he said.
"Mr.
Hartwell," she said.
"Hang up."
He didn't move.
"I'll wait," she said.
He said something quiet into the phone and ended the call.
He set it face-down on the desk.
"You've caused a great deal of disruption this morning," he said.
"Your wife dragged me across the lobby floor," Charlotte said.
"I'd call that the disruption."
"Vivienne was protecting the interests of β"
"Of you," Charlotte said.
"Let's not dress it up."
He studied her for a moment.
Then he sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and gestured to the chair across from him as though he were conducting a business meeting.
Charlotte did not sit.
"The ownership transfer you filed is legitimate," he said.
"Whatever Gerald has told you, the legal sequence β"
"The signature on your document is forged," Charlotte said.
"I have two forensic examiners who will say so in court.
I have the original transfer document my mother filed, which predates yours by fourteen months.
And I have the incorporation records for the shell firm your name is attached to." She paused.
"Would you like me to continue?"
Something shifted in his expression.
Not fear β not yet.
Calculation.
"What is it you want?" he said.
"I want you to understand what's about to happen," Charlotte said.
"Not negotiate.
Not make a deal.
I want you to sit in that chair and understand that it's already done."
He stood up.
The chair scraped back hard.
"You are twenty-six years old," he said, his voice dropping to something colder.
"You have no board relationships, no operational experience, and no allies in this industry who will stand behind you once I make three phone calls.
Your mother built something remarkable.
I am offering you the chance to walk away with a settlement that will keep you comfortable for the rest of your life."
"My mother didn't build the Solmere Empire so I could be comfortable," Charlotte said.
"She built it so I could run it."
"Then you're going to lose it," he said.
"Because I will tie this up in litigation for five years.
I will drain every account, challenge every filing, and make sure that by the time any court rules in your favor, there is nothing left worth having."
He picked up his phone.
Charlotte reached into her jacket pocket and set a small digital recorder on his desk.
The red light had been on since she walked through the door.
May you like
Dominic Hartwell looked at it.
He did not pick up his phone.
