Chapter 4
The following morning, the coastal fog rolled heavily over Shaw Harbor, wrapping the grand estate in a damp, gray shroud that mirrored the heavy mood inside the Van Der Hoven family residence. Beatrice sat at the head of a long, polished dining table, surrounded by her remaining allies and legal advisors. Across from her sat Marcus Thorne, the senior managing partner of the Shaw Harbor Trust, whose family had served the estate as accountants for three generations. Marcus looked distinctly uncomfortable, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses repeatedly as he reviewed the legal brief Beatrice had slammed onto the table.
“This appointment is legally indefensible,” Beatrice insisted, her voice tight with exhaustion and unspent fury. She had not slept, her eyes circled by faint shadows that she had attempted to mask with heavy cosmetics. “Eleanor Vance is losing her grip on reality if she thinks she can hand over the entire corporate and residential portfolio to an outsider like Clara Vance. There is no blood relation, no historical precedent, and certainly no shareholder consensus.” Marcus cleared his throat, avoiding direct eye contact as he tapped a finger against the document.
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“It is true that the charter favors lineage, Miss Van Der Hoven,” Marcus began cautiously, choosing his words with professional precision. “However, the charter also contains a clause regarding moral and fiduciary competence. Mrs. Vance’s legal team has already submitted preliminary audits regarding the Shaw Harbor Trust’s subsidiary accounts. If those audits become public record during a contested board hearing, the reputational damage to your family name—and your position on the board—would be catastrophic.” Beatrice froze, the coffee cup halfway to her lips.
“What are you implying, Marcus?” she asked, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. Marcus finally looked up, his expression deadpan and weary. “I am implying that Miss Clara Vance did not join Eleanor’s camp on a whim. She spent the last eight months auditing the very accounts you used to secure your leverage over the trustees. She knows about the shortfall in the municipal restoration fund, Beatrice. She knows you used estate capital to cover private debts.” The silence in the dining room became absolute, broken only by the mournful foghorns echoing from the harbor below.
