Chapter 3 - The Reconstruction of the Record
The room seemed to lose two degrees of temperature within three seconds.
Darnell’s hand remained frozen in mid-air, his fingers suspended in the shape of an unreturned handshake. His eyes darted from Charles Vincent’s silver hair down to Lenora’s bruised knees, then to the six tactical guards who had formed an impenetrable perimeter around the three of them.
"Mr... Mr. Vincent?" Darnell stammered, the smooth tenor of his voice breaking into a dry rasp. "There’s a mistake. She’s Lenora Miller—well, Lenora Washington now. Her father was a mechanic in Brunswick. She has no money. I’ve been supporting her on my salary for five years!"
Charles Vincent slowly rose to his feet, turning to face Darnell. His expression did not contain anger; it contained the total, absolute absence of regard that a judge reserves for a motion filed three years past the statutory deadline.
"Her name is Lenora Harrison-Miller," Vincent said, every syllable executed with precise, phonetic articulation. "She is the sole surviving child of Arthur Harrison. She is the ninety-nine percent equity owner of the Harrison Global Trust, the proprietor of Apex Maritime Corporation—which happens to be your employer, Mr. Washington—and the legal owner of every stone, tile, chandelier, and air molecule within this three-hundred-acre estate."
A collective, sharp inhalation sounded from the five hundred guests gathered in the perimeter light.
Candace Moore took three quick steps backward, her diamond heels clicking frantically against the marble as she attempted to create distance between herself and Darnell’s shoulder. Her hand slid off his arm as if his sleeve had been coated in industrial acid.
"Darnell..." Candace whispered, her voice tight with panic. "You told me she was a charity case you took in from a rural church group. You told me her family lived in a trailer!"
"She did!" Darnell shouted, his face flushing a deep, mottled red as he pointed an unsteady finger at Lenora. "Lenora, tell him! Tell him you don't own this place! You’ve been living in my house on Oak Street! I bought you that navy dress from Macy's! You didn't even have a credit card when I met you!"
Lenora stood up slowly, declining the arm offered by the junior security officer. She stood erect in the center of the vast ballroom, her navy dress falling straight around her ankles, her shoulders set back in the posture her father had taught her before the water took him.
"My father’s will stipulated that I was to live without access to the principal capital until my twenty-fifth birthday, Darnell," Lenora said, her voice quiet, clear, and perfectly steady. "He wanted me to grow up away from the people who only love money. He wanted me to find out who would treat me like a human being when I had nothing to offer them."
She looked at Beverly Washington, who was currently attempting to slide behind a potted palm tree near the orchestra pit.
"Your mother told me three weeks ago that I wasn't fit to sweep her porch," Lenora continued, her eyes shifting back to Darnell. "And you told me tonight that I came from nothing and would leave with nothing."
Darnell took a step forward, his hands coming up in a frantic, desperate gesture of supplication. "Lenora... baby, listen to me. I was stressed! The promotion at work... the pressure from the board... I was just joking! You know how I get when I’m drinking bourbon. I love you! I’ve always loved you!"
"Mr. Vincent," Lenora said, turning her back on her husband.
"Yes, Miss Harrison?"
"Who currently holds the mortgage on the property at 414 Oak Street?"
Vincent drew a thin, black leather digital ledger from his jacket pocket, tapped the glass screen twice, and read from the display. "The residential mortgage for 414 Oak Street was purchased by the Harrison Asset Management Division in March of last year, Miss Harrison. The current balance of three hundred and forty-two thousand dollars is held directly by your private office. You are Mr. Washington’s sole creditor."
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"And his employment contract at Apex Maritime?"
"Apex Maritime is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Harrison Transportation Group," Vincent replied without looking down at the screen. "You hold one hundred percent of the voting stock. Mr. Washington’s position as Vice President of Regional Logistics is an at-will appointment subject to immediate termination by the board of directors, over which you hold absolute veto power."
