Chapter 9 - The Last Thing He Said
Marjorie filed the amended complaint on a Tuesday.
The new figure — nine hundred and forty-seven thousand dollars, moved over three years through seven separate transactions — changed the shape of everything. What had started as a civil fraud case now carried a possible criminal referral. Marjorie had been talking to the state attorney's office for four days before she told me. She wanted to be sure first.
"They're interested," she said. "Especially in the forged notarization and Callahan and Reed's involvement. Colin Preston has already hired his own lawyer, separate from his uncle."
"And Gerald Preston?"
"Gerald Preston isn't practicing anymore. He submitted his resignation to the bar association yesterday." She let that land. "Grant's new attorneys know about the referral. They called this morning. He wants to negotiate."
"Negotiate what?"
"Full civil settlement. Every transferred dollar back, plus interest. Your full half of Hollis Development Group restored. The house put in your name. And a signed agreement that he won't contest the divorce." A pause. "In exchange, you don't cooperate further with the criminal side."
I was quiet a moment. "And Lucille? Kestrel?"
"Kestrel gets dissolved. Funds returned. Lucille isn't named in the referral yet. That would be part of the deal."
"What do you recommend?"
She took her time. "Honestly? The settlement gives you everything back, plus damages, faster than a criminal trial ever would. Criminal cases take years. They're brutal. And you never know how they'll land." A pause. "But that's a values question, not just a legal one. Some clients want the money back. Some want the accountability. Most want both and have to pick."
I thought about my father's savings. The two rented rooms off Market Street. Mopping floors at midnight because we couldn't pay a cleaner. Grant at the kitchen island with his scotch, telling me I'd misunderstood the documents.
"I want everything back," I said. "And I want it signed before I agree to a single thing about the referral."
"That's what I thought you'd say." I could hear her writing. "I'll take that back to them."
The meeting happened nine days later, in Marjorie's conference room. Grant came with two attorneys from the Cleveland firm. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. He sat across from me and kept his eyes on the papers instead of my face.
His lead attorney, a tall woman named Adrienne Cole, spoke for the first twenty minutes and laid out the terms. Marjorie answered each point. I sat and listened and said nothing.
Then Adrienne Cole said, "Mr. Hollis would like to make a brief personal statement before we finalize."
Marjorie looked at me. I nodded.
Grant looked up for the first time. Right at me. His face was older than I remembered, or maybe I was just seeing it clearly.
"Diane," he said. "There's nothing I can say that changes what I did. I'm not going to try to explain it. I just—" He stopped. Pressed his lips together. "I want you to know that the company — what you built — I never once stopped knowing it was yours. Even while I was trying to take it." A pause. "That's the worst part. I knew."
The room was very quiet.
I looked at him a long moment. Twenty-eight years. Two rented rooms. My father's savings. Every floor I'd scrubbed.
"I know you knew," I said. "That's why we're here."
He nodded once and looked back down at the papers.
May you like
The settlement was signed that afternoon. Every transfer returned with interest. My full fifty percent of Hollis Development Group restored. The house put in my name. The divorce uncontested.
Lucille called me once, two weeks later. I let it ring. She left no message. I didn't need one.
