Chapter 5 - The Wedge
At two o'clock that afternoon, Silas sat in the private dining room of the Harvard Club, watching his son through a glass partition.
Adrian was sitting at a corner table with Arthur Vance. Silas walked in slowly, leaning on his cane, and took a seat opposite his son. Vance nodded silently, gathered his papers, and left the room, closing the heavy mahogany door behind him.
Adrian looked up, his face set in a hard, stubborn line that Silas recognized all too well. It was the same look Silas used to see in the mirror thirty years ago when he was preparing to buy out a competitor.
"Why did you freeze the Crowne Foundation transfer, Dad?" Adrian asked directly, skipping all pleasantries.
Silas signaled the waiter for a cup of black tea. "Because the foundation is a fraud, Adrian."
Adrian let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "A fraud? Vanessa has dedicated three years of her life to that non-profit! She brings music to poor kids across three states! I've been to the events! I've seen the performances!"
"You've seen sixty-four cheap violins bought from China for twelve dollars each," Silas said calmly, taking a piece of paper from his pocket and sliding it across the table. "This is the forensic audit report completed six hours ago. Over sixteen million dollars has been laundered through a shell company in Panama owned by Celeste Crowne. The money went to Macau casinos, European estates, and offshore private accounts."
Adrian didn't pick up the paper. He stared at it as if it were a poisonous snake.
"Where did you get this?" Adrian asked, his voice shaking. "Did you hire private investigators to spy on my fiancée's family?"
"I did what any father who built an eighty-billion-dollar legacy would do," Silas said coldly. "I protected my family."
"You didn't protect me!" Adrian yelled, slamming his hand onto the table. Several diners at nearby tables turned to look. Adrian lowered his voice, his eyes burning with anger. "You've been hiding in Switzerland for five years! You didn't come to my thirty-first birthday. You didn't come to the opening of the new logistics center in Houston. But the second I find someone who actually loves me for who I am—not for my money—you hire spies to dig up dirt on her family!"
"Adrian," Silas said softly, his voice dropping into a rare tone of tender concern. "Look at the evidence. She is using you."
"She is not using me!" Adrian stood up, grabbing his coat. "Vanessa told me everything this morning, Dad."
Silas raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What did she tell you?"
"She told me you approached her privately three months ago," Adrian lied—or rather, repeated the lie Vanessa had spun for him two hours prior. "She told me you offered her twenty million dollars to walk away from me because you didn't think her family was prestigious enough for the Vale name! She refused the money, and she promised me she wouldn't tell me because she didn't want to break my heart!"
Silas sat back, absolute shock registering in his mind for a brief second before he realized the brilliant, desperate cunning of Vanessa Crowne’s move. She had pre-empted the accusation by turning Silas into the villain of a classic wealthy-father cliché.
"She lied to you, Adrian," Silas said flatly. "I never spoke to her until last night."
"Last night?" Adrian laughed bitterly. "You weren't even at the gala last night, Dad! You were in your penthouse! Vanessa said she saw you arriving this morning!"
Silas realized in that moment that showing the video footage of the gatehouse right now would not work. Adrian was too far gone in his defensive rage. If Silas produced the video, Adrian would simply view it as a staged, psychotic trap set up by a paranoid old man who had lost his mind.
"Adrian, sit down," Silas commanded, his voice hardening into steel.
"No," Adrian said, stepping back from the table. "I've spent my whole life trying to earn your respect, Dad. I ran this company while you played dead. But I won't let you destroy my personal life. The wedding is in three weeks. If you aren't there to support us, don't bother coming back to New York."
Adrian turned and walked out of the dining room, his footsteps echoing echoing down the carpeted hallway.
Silas sat alone at the table. He took a slow sip of his black tea. His bandaged hand throbbed slightly, but his face remained completely expressionless.
Arthur Vance re-entered the room quietly, sitting down in the chair Adrian had just vacated.
"He didn't believe it," Vance said softly.
"No," Silas replied, looking out the window at the rainy street below. "He believes what he needs to believe to feel loved. She played her hand well."
"What is your next move, Silas? If Adrian signs the proxy agreement before the wedding, Vanessa’s mother gets access to twenty percent of the voting stock."
May you like
Silas turned his head, his blue eyes sharp as ice.
"Call the Swiss banking authority," Silas ordered. "Tell them to release the hold on Richard Crowne's medical records. And order our security team to pick up the director of that psychiatric facility in Zurich tonight. It’s time we brought Vanessa’s father home."
