I Showed Her the Truth… Partially
797 Words
Chapter 12
(Xander's POV)
Monday's meeting with Victor couldn't wait until Monday.
He called at noon, which meant he already knew about Theo's review request. Which meant Theo had reported back faster than I'd anticipated.
I let it go to voicemail.
Then called Richard.
"Pull everything Theo Grant has accessed on the Voss Group internal servers in the last thirty days," I said. "Cross-reference it with the Laurent Luxe quarterly data he requested yesterday. I want it on my desk before three."
"Understood," Richard said. "Also, Nadia flagged a delivery. A sealed file. Came through the building's private courier service this morning. No return address."
"Bring it up."
The file arrived within minutes.
No letterhead. No signature.
Inside were three documents I recognized immediately copies of internal Voss Group correspondence from fifteen years ago. The same correspondence I'd found buried in the Laurent merger files last week.
But these copies had annotations.
Handwritten. Precise. In a handwriting I didn't recognize.
Someone else had been through these papers.
Someone who knew exactly which pages mattered.
I read through the annotations carefully.
They connected things I hadn't yet connected myself, a paper trail linking Reginald's signature on the Laurent Tower documents not to independent decision-making but to direct instruction.
Victor's instruction.
I sat with that for a long time.
My father had not been the architect.
He'd been the instrument.
That distinction didn't absolve anything.
But it rearranged everything.
By two o'clock I'd made a decision.
Sophia was in a design review at Laurent Luxe until four. I knew her schedule the way I knew all variables that affected my operation. I texted her one line:
'Come to the penthouse before dinner. There's something you need to see.'
Her reply came three minutes later.
"That depends entirely on what it is."
"Documents," I sent back. "About your father."
No reply for eleven minutes.
Then she replied: "I'll be there at five."
She arrived at four fifty-eight.
Still in her work clothes, a deep emerald wrap dress that made her hazel eyes appear almost green. She'd come straight from the office. No pretense of changing for the performance. This wasn't a public appearance.
She stood in the doorway of the study and looked at the files spread across the desk.
"How long have you had these?" she asked.
"The originals, one week," I said. "The annotated copies arrived this morning."
Her eyes moved to mine. "Annotated by who?"
"I don't know yet."
She crossed to the desk slowly and picked up the first document.
I watched her read.
Sophia Laurent reading documents was a particular kind of focused, completely still, eyes tracking every line, nothing on her face until something registered internally. Then the smallest tightening around her eyes. The almost imperceptible press of her lips together.
She set the first page down and picked up the second.
Then the third.
The room was completely silent.
"This is Reginald's signature," she said finally. "On the instruction to forge my father's deed transfer."
"Yes."
"But the instruction originated from Victor."
"Based on the annotation trail, yes."
She set the page down carefully.
Looked at the wall for a moment.
"My father died on those courthouse steps believing your father acted alone," she said quietly. "Believing it was one man's greed."
"I know."
"He died thinking there was no one else to fight." Her voice was steady but something underneath it wasn't. "If he'd known Victor was behind it, if he'd known the full structure..."
She stopped.
I didn't fill the silence.
Some silences needed to exist without being managed.
"There's more," I said after a moment.
She looked at me.
"The second sabotage. The fabric line ten years ago." I pulled the relevant page forward. "Victor didn't work alone on that one either."
I watched her eyes drop to the page.
I Watched the exact moment she saw the name.
Her face went very still.
"That's my mother's signature," she said.
Barely above a whisper.
"Yes."
She didn't move for a long moment.
Then she stepped back from the desk slowly, like the documents had become something physical she needed distance from.
"Elena was involved," she said. Not a question. A recalibration.
"It appears so." I kept my voice even. "I don't yet know the full extent."
She turned away from the desk entirely and walked to the window.
Arms crossed. Shoulders tight.
I stayed where I was.
Giving her space she clearly needed and wouldn't ask for.
"She's dead," Sophia said finally. "She died in a car accident six years ago. So whatever she did..." A pause. "Whatever she did, she can't answer for it."
I said nothing.
Because what I suspected about Elena Laurent was not something I was prepared to say without certainty.
Not yet.
Not to her.
- Writer
