Three Days After My Husband’s Service, My Son Said, “The Family Business Has Been Sold… Your Share Is $10,000.” But It Was Worth $13 Million.

“The board meets at 10 on Friday morning. Oliver will be expecting to introduce the new ownership team from Monarch Holdings, specifically the mysterious Elizabeth Windsor he believes he’s been negotiating with through intermediaries.”

“And instead, he’ll get me.”

I smooth my dress, a nervous habit from childhood that resurfaced in moments of stress. “What about the board members?

Can they be trusted?”

“Two are firmly in Oliver’s pocket. Henderson and Patterson. They’ve benefited directly from his schemes.

The others are either loyal to Richard’s memory or completely in the dark.”

Jonathan slid a folder across the desk. “This contains dossas on each member, including what we know about their involvement or lack thereof.”

I accepted the folder, suddenly aware of the weight of what we were undertaking and the employees. “How do we protect them when this becomes public?”

“The acquisition structure shields the operational side of the business from any legal repercussions.

Your controlling interest through Monarch ensures that production continues uninterrupted.”

Jonathan hesitated, then added. “But there will be questions, Amelia. Shock, possibly anger directed at the entire Blackwood family.”

“Better temporary anger than permanent destitution,” I replied, thinking of the pension fund and the families who depended on it.

“Richard built this company on integrity and innovation. I won’t let Oliver destroy that legacy through greed and shortcuts.”

As I gathered my belongings to leave, Jonathan asked the question he’d been delicately avoiding throughout our meeting. “And after Friday, have you decided what happens to Oliver?”

The maternal instinct to protect my child wared with the moral obligation to hold him accountable.

In my mind’s eye, I saw Oliver as a small boy earnestly explaining his Lego creations. As a teenager awkwardly navigating his first school dance. As a young man standing proud in his graduation robes with Richard beaming beside him.

Where had that boy gone? When had ambition curdled into avarice? “That depends on him,” I finally answered.

“On whether he can face what he’s done with honesty and remorse.”

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