Chapter 6 - The Boardroom Knife
Charles Merrick had been Grant’s chief financial officer for sixteen years.
He had attended Claire’s funeral.
He had carried Lily away from the cemetery when she became too tired to walk.
Grant had trusted him with every financial secret the Callahan family possessed.
Now Merrick was dead in a warehouse owned by the company.
Adam Haines was found unconscious beside him.
Police discovered a pistol in Adam’s hand.
The evidence looked simple.
Too simple.
Adam woke the following morning.
He remembered being abducted from his apartment.
He remembered Mercer asking questions about his mother.
He remembered being taken to the warehouse.
He did not remember touching the gun.
Toxicology reports revealed a sedative in his blood.
Merrick had been killed hours before Adam arrived.
Someone had staged the scene.
While Detective Ruiz investigated, Grant called an emergency board meeting.
He asked me to attend.
“I’m a nanny.”
“You have the ledger.”
“Give it to the police.”
“We photographed every page.”
“The original cannot enter Callahan headquarters.”
“Then why do you need me?”
“Because no one on my board knows who you are beyond the stories Renata released.”
“That does not answer the question.”
Grant looked at Lily, who was coloring at the hospital table beside my mother.
“She trusts you.”
“And right now, I trust the people she trusts.”
The Callahan Industrial headquarters rose above Manhattan like a wall of glass.
News crews surrounded the entrance.
Grant took us through an underground garage.
My mother remained at the hospital with Lily under police protection.
The red ledger stayed hidden beneath the lining of my handbag.
Twelve directors waited inside the boardroom.
Victor Cole sat at the far end of the table.
He had silver hair, a tailored navy suit, and the relaxed expression of a man who believed he had already won.
“Grant,” he said.
“My condolences regarding the chaos at your home.”
Grant remained standing.
“You are not a member of this board.”
“No.”
“But Cole Meridian recently acquired voting rights attached to four percent of Callahan Industrial.”
Grant looked toward his directors.
One woman avoided his eyes.
Victor smiled.
“Your board invited me.”
“For what purpose?”
“To discuss leadership stability.”
Grant slowly removed his coat.
“You leaked the story about Emma.”
Victor glanced at me.
“I do not involve myself in domestic staffing disputes.”
“You paid the public-relations firm representing Renata.”
“I invest in many firms.”
“You also signed payments recorded in a private ledger kept by Margaret Haines.”
Victor’s smile faded slightly.
“What ledger?”
Grant watched every director.
Three looked genuinely confused.
Two looked frightened.
One man near the window immediately reached for his phone.
I noticed.
So did Grant.
“Phones on the table,” Grant ordered.
The man froze.
“This is not a courtroom.”
“No.”
“But it is my company.”
Victor leaned back.
“That statement may soon require revision.”
A board member named Elaine Porter cleared her throat.
“Grant, we are deeply concerned.”
“About Claire’s murder?”
“About your ability to lead while facing a family crisis.”
“My family crisis was created by people seeking control of this company.”
Victor folded his hands.
“An extraordinary claim.”
“The police found Merrick dead.”
“And your former housekeeper’s son holding the weapon.”
“After being drugged.”
“That has not been proven.”
I looked toward the man near the window.
He slipped his phone beneath the table.
I moved behind him.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Waiting for you to finish sending Renata a message.”
The room erupted.
He stood abruptly.
His chair struck my leg.
Grant seized his wrist before he could move away.
The phone fell.
A message remained open.
HE HAS THE LEDGER.
Victor’s calm vanished.
The director tried to pull free.
Grant tightened his grip.
“Who were you sending that to?”
“I want an attorney.”
“You will need one.”
Security entered.
This time, Grant had brought retired federal agents hired directly through Detective Ruiz.
The director was escorted out.
Victor rose.
“This performance changes nothing.”
Grant faced him.
“It changes everything.”
“No.”
Victor buttoned his jacket.
“You remain a grieving widower whose household has collapsed.”
“Your daughter has begun making wild accusations.”
“Your nanny has a history of violence.”
“And your chief financial officer is dead.”
He walked toward the door.
“In forty-eight hours, this board will vote to remove you as chairman.”
Grant did not move.
Victor stopped beside me.
His smile returned.
“Your mother’s clinic receives most of its equipment through a Cole Meridian subsidiary.”
My blood ran cold.
“Threatening her in front of witnesses is foolish.”
“I am not threatening anyone.”
“I am simply explaining how fragile systems can be.”
He left.
Grant stared through the glass wall at the city below.
“We need the blue room.”
“Wherever it is,” I said.
A board member named Thomas Vale approached us.
He was one of the few who had looked genuinely shocked.
“Merrick once used that phrase.”
Grant turned.
“When?”
“About six months before Claire died.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me Claire had placed original files in the blue room because she no longer trusted the company servers.”
“Did he say where it was?”
Thomas shook his head.
“But Claire had one habit.”
“What?”
“She named secure locations after paintings.”
Grant looked at me.
The Callahan estate contained hundreds of paintings.
Then I remembered Lily’s bedroom.
Paper stars.
Drawings.
A painting of a blue room hung above her fireplace.
I had dusted it every week for six months.
We returned to the estate immediately.
The painting concealed a wall safe.
Inside were financial records, photographs, and a small flash drive.
Grant inserted the drive into an isolated laptop.
The first video showed Charles Merrick speaking directly into the camera.
“If you are watching this, Claire is dead.”
Grant stopped breathing.
May you like
Merrick continued.
“And the person responsible is sitting on the board of Callahan Industrial.”
