Chapter 2 - The Power of Attorney
I did not go home that night.
I went to my office.
At 9:14 p.m., every light in Donovan Family Legal Services was still on.
My assistant, Nina, was halfway out the door when she saw my face.
“Oh my God. What happened?”
“Lock the door.”
She frowned.
“Claire?”
“Please.”
Something in my voice made her stop asking questions.
She locked the front entrance.
Then she followed me into my office.
I spread Adrian's documents across my desk.
Nina stared.
“Is that Mason?”
“Yes.”
“With Evelyn Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Why do I feel like I should call the police?”
“Because this is probably bigger than an affair.”
I showed her the transfers.
Nina's expression changed.
“What's Vale Meridian?”
“One of Adrian Vale's subsidiaries.”
“And this?”
“A company in Nevada.”
“This one?”
“Delaware.”
“How many?”
“Thirty-six so far.”
She sat down.
“Claire, what am I looking at?”
“Money being moved.”
“How much?”
I hesitated.
“Twenty-eight million.”
Nina whispered something I couldn't hear.
Then she looked up.
“Does Adrian know?”
“He knows.”
“How?”
“He's been investigating them.”
“Why come to you?”
I thought about his expression in the garage.
Because he needed something only I could legally provide.
“Because I may be connected to it.”
I told Nina about my father.
She knew the broad version.
Everyone did.
My father had been a commercial developer who lost everything after a disastrous construction project.
He died when I was nineteen.
The family story was that his creditors had crushed him.
He drank.
He spiraled.
He died of a heart attack.
I had never questioned it.
Now I wondered whether that entire story had been manufactured.
At 10:03 p.m., my phone buzzed.
Mason.
I stared at his name.
Nina watched me.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Hey, baby.”
His voice was calm.
Almost loving.
That made me sick.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Sure?”
“Of course.”
I closed my eyes.
“I'm still at work.”
“You should come home.”
“I will.”
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I looked at the financial documents.
“I love you too.”
The words tasted like ash.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “there's something important we need to discuss.”
“I know.”
He paused.
“You know?”
“I know we need to talk.”
“Good.”
His voice softened.
“Get some rest.”
The call ended.
Nina looked at me.
“He suspects.”
“Maybe.”
“Or he thinks you're still clueless.”
“Let's make sure he keeps thinking that.”
At 8:00 the next morning, Mason arrived at my office with flowers.
Red roses.
Twenty-four of them.
The same number he had given me after my first trial win.
He kissed my forehead.
“You look exhausted.”
“Didn't sleep.”
“Neither did I.”
That was almost funny.
He set the flowers down.
“I'm sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being emotionally distant.”
I stared at him.
He looked sincere.
That was the worst part.
He had always been good at sincerity.
He could look directly into someone's eyes and make lies feel like intimacy.
“I've been thinking,” he said.
“About?”
“Our future.”
My stomach tightened.
He pulled out a folder.
There it was.
The power of attorney.
“I need you to sign this temporarily.”
“Why?”
“Because the firm is growing.”
“It's my firm.”
“Our firm.”
“No.”
His smile faltered.
“What?”
“My firm.”
He laughed.
“Claire, come on.”
I opened the document.
The powers were broad.
Too broad.
Authority over finances.
Property.
Contracts.
Bank accounts.
Corporate restructuring.
Potential litigation.
Exactly what Adrian had warned me about.
“Why would you need all this?”
“Because I'm trying to protect what we've built.”
“From what?”
He looked away.
“A potential lawsuit.”
“From whom?”
He hesitated.
“Vale Meridian.”
My heart stopped.
“Why would Vale Meridian sue us?”
“There's a misunderstanding.”
“About what?”
“Some billing.”
I watched his face.
No blink.
No fidget.
But his right thumb rubbed the edge of his sleeve.
A habit I'd seen whenever he was lying.
“How much?”
“What?”
“How much money is involved?”
“Claire—”
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
Adrian had said twenty-eight million.
Mason was offering me the first layer of the lie.
I smiled.
“Okay.”
He relaxed.
“I'll sign.”
He blinked.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I pulled a pen from my drawer.
Then I paused.
“I want my own lawyer to review it.”
His face changed.
Only for a second.
“No need.”
“I insist.”
“Claire, this is between us.”
“Exactly.”
He stood.
“Fine.”
I closed the folder.
“Leave it.”
He kissed me.
I nearly recoiled.
Instead, I let him.
He whispered:
“Thank you for trusting me.”
After he left, I stared at the closed door.
Then I called Adrian.
He answered on the first ring.
“You signed?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“He lied about the amount.”
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
Adrian was silent.
“He's testing you.”
“For what?”
“To see whether you know.”
“Know what?”
“Your firm's name appears on seventeen transfers.”
I froze.
“My firm?”
“Yes.”
“Claire.”
His voice softened.
“You're not being used as a witness.”
“You're being framed as an accomplice,” he finished.
The words landed hard.
“What happens if they succeed?”
“They make it look like you helped steal the money.”
“I didn't.”
“I know.”
“But a court doesn't operate on what you know.”
“No.”
His tone changed.
“That is why I need you to trust me.”
“I don't.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you keep saying things like that?”
“Because eventually you will.”
He hung up.
I sat there for a long time.
Then Nina walked in.
“Someone left this downstairs.”
She handed me a small package.
No name.
Inside was an old brass key.
And a note.
Your father's office.
I knew immediately.
My father had kept an office in a commercial building downtown.
I had never been there after his death.
I had assumed the bank sold the property.
I searched the county records.
The building was still owned by a company registered twelve days before my father's death.
The company name was one I had never seen.
Hartwell Preservation LLC.
I looked at the financial documents Adrian had given me.
There it was.
A transfer.
One of Mason's shell companies had paid Hartwell Preservation LLC eighteen months ago.
My breath caught.
Then another detail emerged.
Mason hadn't randomly started an affair with Evelyn Vale.
He had met her exactly eleven months before he proposed to me.
And that was four months after my father's old office had been reopened.
I called Adrian again.
“This is about my father.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I needed to know whether you were involved.”
The honesty surprised me.
“You thought I might be?”
“I thought you might not know you were.”
I stared at the old brass key.
“Take me to the building.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if the office still exists, someone may be waiting for us.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I don't doubt that.”
May you like
He paused.
“I doubt what they'll do when they realize you're not alone.”
