Chapter 3: The Woman Who Wanted Fifty-One Percent
The following morning, I took David's accident report to Eleanor's office.
She read it carefully, page by page.
Every few minutes, she made a note.
Finally, she looked up.
"Margaret, I want to ask you something.""
"Go ahead.""
"Did the police ever recover David's mobile phone?""
I shook my head.
"Camille told me it was destroyed in the accident.""
"Was that confirmed by the police?""
"I don't remember.""
"Did you see the phone?""
"No.""
Eleanor closed the folder.
"Then we need the original case file.""
She picked up her telephone and contacted a former investigator she knew.
While she spoke, I sat in silence.
I couldn't stop thinking about the anonymous messages.
Someone knew David's phone was missing.
Someone knew Camille had returned.
And someone wanted me to ask questions.
When Eleanor finished the call, she turned toward me.
"There's something else you need to prepare for.""
"What?""
"Camille's petition alleges that your age makes you unsuitable to raise two seventeen-year-old boys.""
I stared at her.
"Because I'm seventy-three?""
"Yes.""
"Does she know I've been raising them since they were two?""
"Of course.""
"Does she know I've attended every parent-teacher meeting? Every medical appointment? Every school event?""
"She knows.""
"Then how can she stand in court and say I'm unsuitable?""
Eleanor sighed.
"Because this isn't only about what happened ten years ago. It's about what she can persuade the judge to believe now.""
I leaned forward.
"Tell me what to do.""
"First, we document your history as their primary caregiver. School records, medical records, financial records, witnesses. Second, we establish the boys' wishes. At seventeen, their voices may carry considerable weight, depending on the court's procedures.""
I nodded.
"And the business?""
"Keep it separate from the custody dispute. Don't discuss transferring shares. Don't sign anything Camille gives you.""
I looked at her.
"Why would I transfer anything?""
Eleanor hesitated.
"Because I suspect she's going to ask.""
She was right.
That afternoon, Camille arrived again.
This time, she came alone.
I was in the kitchen preparing tea when I heard the front door open.
I turned.
She was standing in the hallway.
"Margaret.""
I didn't offer her a seat.
"How did you get inside?""
"I rang the bell. George opened the door.""
I frowned.
"Where is he?""
"Upstairs.""
I set down the teapot.
"You shouldn't come into my house without permission.""
Camille removed her sunglasses.
"Can we talk privately?""
"No.""
She glanced toward the staircase.
"Fine. We can talk here.""
She walked into the kitchen and placed her handbag on the counter.
I noticed her eyes moving around the room.
The new cabinets.
The polished countertops.
The framed photographs.
A picture of Jeffrey and George at their school awards ceremony sat near the window.
Camille picked it up.
"They've grown.""
"Ten years will do that.""
She put the photograph down.
"Jeffrey looks like David.""
"He does.""
"And George looks like me.""
I didn't respond.
She pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Margaret, I think we should settle this without making it ugly.""
I folded my arms.
"You filed for full custody. How much uglier can it get?""
She ignored the question.
"I've spoken to Richard. He believes we can reach an agreement.""
"What kind of agreement?""
She looked directly at me.
"Give me fifty-one percent of your company, and I'll drop the custody case.""
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood.
"What?""
"Fifty-one percent. Controlling interest.""
I stared at her.
"You want more than half of my business?""
"Yes.""
"And in exchange?""
"I withdraw the petition. You keep raising the boys. Everybody gets what they want.""
I slowly pulled out the chair opposite her.
"You're asking me to give you control of something I spent ten years building?""
Camille crossed one leg over the other.
"Let's not pretend you built it entirely alone.""
I looked at her.
"What does that mean?""
"You had two children to motivate you. You used their story. Your business became successful because people liked the image of a grandmother raising abandoned twins.""
My hands began to tremble.
Not from fear.
From anger.
"How dare you?""
She lifted one shoulder.
"It's business, Margaret. You know how these things work.""
"No. I know how hard I worked. I know how many nights I spent packaging tea while those boys slept upstairs. I know how many times I skipped meals to make sure they had everything they needed.""
She reached into her handbag and took out a folded document.
"Then perhaps you should consider the alternative.""
She pushed it across the counter.
I didn't touch it.
"What is this?""
"A proposal.""
"I don't want it.""
"Read it.""
"I said no.""
Her voice dropped.
"If you refuse, I'll take the boys and move somewhere you'll never see them again.""
I stared at her.
There it was.
The threat.
Not a mother asking for a second chance.
A woman using two seventeen-year-old boys as leverage.
I stood up.
"Get out.""
She remained seated.
"Think carefully.""
"I have.""
"Margaret, you're seventy-three. What happens if you get sick? What happens if you can't look after them anymore? Do you really think a judge will ignore that?""
I stepped toward the kitchen door.
"You're confusing my age with weakness.""
She stood.
"Don't make this personal.""
I looked at her in disbelief.
"You abandoned your children. You came back asking for my company. And now you're threatening to take them away. How could this possibly be anything but personal?""
Camille picked up her handbag.
"Richard will be in touch.""
She walked toward the hallway.
Then she turned around.
"One more thing.""
I said nothing.
"You should tell the boys that their father wasn't the perfect man you keep pretending he was.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"What are you talking about?""
She smiled faintly.
"Ask him what he was doing the night he died.""
Then she left.
I stood in the kitchen long after the front door closed.
Outside the window, two robins were fighting over the bird feeder.
On the sill sat Jeffrey's little silver recorder.
He had placed it there that morning to capture the birds singing.
The boys had recently developed an interest in recording sounds.
George used his phone.
Jeffrey preferred his small digital recorder because he said the audio quality was better.
I picked it up and moved it away from the window.
Then I noticed the red recording light was still blinking.
I pressed the stop button.
The tiny screen showed that the device had been recording for nearly forty minutes.
I didn't think much of it.
I placed it beside the fruit bowl and went upstairs to speak with the boys.
Jeffrey was sitting at his desk.
George was stretched across his bed, scrolling through his phone.
"Can I talk to both of you?""
George looked up.
"Did she come back?""
"Yes.""
Jeffrey slowly turned around.
"What did she want?""
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"She offered to withdraw the custody case if I gave her controlling ownership of my company.""
George sat upright.
"She's joking.""
"I wish she were.""
Jeffrey's expression hardened.
"How much?""
"Fifty-one percent.""
George let out a sharp laugh.
"She abandoned us in a trash bag and now she wants your business?""
"That's what happened.""
Jeffrey stood up.
"Did you tell her no?""
"Of course.""
He nodded.
Then he walked toward his desk.
"Grandma, there's something I need to tell you.""
I recognized that tone.
It was the same one he'd used when he told me about Camille appearing at school.
"What is it?""
He opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
Inside was a printed photograph.
I recognized the woman immediately.
Camille.
She was standing outside a restaurant, speaking to a man in a dark coat.
The date printed beneath the photograph was three months earlier.
I frowned.
"Where did you get this?""
"George took it.""
George raised his hand.
"Before you get angry, she was following us first.""
I looked between them.
"Why were you following your mother?""
Jeffrey took the photograph from me.
"Because she contacted us online before she came to school.""
"What?""
"She sent a message to my school account. She wanted to meet privately.""
My stomach tightened.
"Did you meet her?""
"No," Jeffrey said.
"We didn't trust her.""
George sat up completely.
"She said she wanted to explain everything about Dad.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Who is the man?""
"We don't know," Jeffrey replied.
"Have you seen him before?""
George shook his head.
"But he gave her an envelope.""
I stared at them.
"What was inside?""
Jeffrey looked at his brother.
George answered.
"Money. We saw her put it in her handbag.""
The room felt suddenly smaller.
"How much?""
"We couldn't tell.""
I sat down.
"Why didn't you tell me any of this?""
Jeffrey looked uncomfortable.
"Because we wanted to understand why she was contacting us before we worried you.""
I reached for his hand.
"You should never feel that you have to protect me from something like this.""
He gave me a small smile.
"We know.""
George suddenly leaned forward.
"There's something else.""
I looked at him.
"What?""
"Remember when Mom said Dad wasn't who we thought he was?""
I nodded.
"Well, Jeffrey has something.""
Jeffrey's face changed.
"George.""
"What? Grandma needs to know.""
I turned toward my older grandson.
"What do you have?""
Jeffrey hesitated.
Then he opened another drawer.
He removed a small black notebook.
The leather cover was worn at the edges.
My breath caught.
I recognized it immediately.
David's notebook.
The one he had carried everywhere.
The one Camille had taken after the accident.
I stood up so quickly that the chair scraped against the floor.
"Where did you get that?""
Jeffrey held it carefully.
"I found it in an old storage box at the company warehouse.""
"Why was it there?""
"I don't know. It was inside a carton with Dad's old office things.""
I took the notebook.
My fingers brushed the familiar handwriting on the first page.
David had written his name.
Then the date.
The final entry was dated three days before the accident.
I opened it.
The first few pages contained ordinary notes.
Appointments.
Phone numbers.
Business reminders.
Then I reached a page with several lines underlined twice.
Camille says the money is gone. The accounts don't match. I need to speak to someone before Friday.
Beneath that was another sentence.
If anything happens to me, Margaret must know what I found.
My hands went cold.
I read it again.
Then again.
"Grandma?"" Jeffrey whispered.
I couldn't answer.
I turned to the next page.
It had been torn out.
So had the page after that.
I looked at the boys.
"Did either of you read this?""
Jeffrey nodded.
"Only the parts that were visible.""
I closed the notebook.
"Nobody touches this again until I speak with Eleanor.""
George looked worried.
"Is it about Dad's accident?""
"I don't know.""
But I was beginning to fear the answer.
That evening, I met Eleanor at her office and showed her the notebook.
She examined the handwriting and photographed every page.
When she reached the final entry, her expression changed.
"Margaret, did you know David had financial problems before he died?""
"No.""
"Did he ever mention missing money?""
"Never.""
She looked at the notebook again.
"This may be important.""
"Important for the custody case?""
"Potentially. But more importantly, it may help explain why Camille is so interested in your company.""
I frowned.
"What do you mean?""
Eleanor turned her computer around.
She had searched the public records connected to Camille's recent business activities.
A company registered under a different name had recently acquired several properties.
Its listed director was a man named Adrian Cole.
I stared at the screen.
"Who is he?""
Eleanor clicked another document.
"He's Camille's current partner.""
"Partner?""
"Business partner, according to the registration. But there are indications they may also be in a personal relationship.""
I leaned back.
"Why would that matter?""
Eleanor pointed to the financial statement.
"Because Adrian Cole's company has substantial debts. And it appears to have been trying to acquire controlling interests in several profitable businesses.""
My stomach tightened.
Including mine?
Eleanor nodded slowly.
"Possibly.""
Before I could ask another question, her phone rang.
She listened for a few seconds.
Then she looked at me.
"That's the former investigator I contacted.""
She put the call on speaker.
A man's voice came through.
"Ms. Price, I found the original accident file.""
Eleanor straightened.
"Anything unusual?""
"There is one thing. The report indicates that David Whitmore's vehicle had been examined before the crash.""
My heart began pounding.
"Examined?"" I whispered.
Eleanor raised a hand, asking me to wait.
The investigator continued.
"The vehicle had been reported for a mechanical issue several days earlier. However, the final inspection records are incomplete.""
"What kind of mechanical issue?"" Eleanor asked.
There was a pause.
Then the investigator answered.
"Brake pressure irregularities.""
I gripped the edge of the desk.
The room seemed to tilt.
"Are you saying his brakes failed?""
"I'm saying that the report mentions an unresolved brake concern. But the original investigator classified the accident as weather-related.""
Eleanor looked at me.
"Can you send us the complete file?""
"I can. But there's something else.""
"What?""
"The passenger gave a statement that doesn't appear in the summary report.""
My heart stopped.
"Camille?"" I whispered.
"Yes.""
"What did she say?""
The investigator took a breath.
"She told police that David had stopped the car shortly before the accident because he believed something was wrong.""
I covered my mouth.
Eleanor leaned forward.
"Why wasn't that included in the final report?""
"That's what I'm trying to establish.""
A long silence followed.
Then the investigator added one final detail.
"Mrs. Whitmore, there was also a call placed from David's phone less than ten minutes before the crash.""
"To whom?"" Eleanor asked.
The investigator checked his notes.
"An unknown number.""
I looked down at David's notebook.
If anything happens to me, Margaret must know what I found.
Then the investigator spoke again.
"We've managed to identify the number.""
Eleanor went still.
"Who did it belong to?""
The answer came quietly.
"Adrian Cole.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
The same man whose company was connected to Camille.
The same man who had been photographed meeting her.
And suddenly, I understood why she had returned after ten years.
She wasn't simply trying to become a mother again.
She was trying to get her hands on something.
Something David might have discovered before he died.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Jeffrey appeared.
Grandma, I need you to come home immediately.
A second message followed.
Mom is here. She brought someone with her.
Then a third.
And she says she knows we found Dad's notebook.
I stood up.
Eleanor grabbed her coat.
"Margaret, don't go there alone.""
I looked at her.
"Then we're going together.""
But before we reached the door, my phone rang again.
This time, it was George.
His voice was shaking.
"Grandma, you need to hurry.""
"What's happening?""
I heard shouting in the background.
Then George whispered something that made my knees weaken.
"Mom says if we don't come with her tonight, she'll tell the court what really happened to Dad.""
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"George, listen to me. Don't go anywhere.""
Then I heard Camille's voice in the background.
Cold.
Controlled.
And unmistakably angry.
May you like
"Give me that notebook, Jeffrey.""
The call suddenly went dead.
