Chapter 8 - Gregory Knew My Mother’s Name
I found Gregory in the ship’s piano bar.
Public.
Bright.
Cameras overhead.
Exactly where I wanted him.
He was sitting alone with an ice pack against his jaw.
When he saw me, his eyes narrowed.
“You’re violating the separation request.”
“There is no court order.”
“Voss told you—”
“Voss is taking envelopes from your father.”
That shut him up.
I sat across from him.
Gregory glanced around.
“You’re making a scene.”
“No. I’m asking questions.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Margaret Reed.”
His fingers stopped against the ice pack.
My mother’s name.
He knew it.
Not casually.
Not because she was my mother.
The name hit him like a command.
I leaned forward.
“What did your father do to her?”
Gregory’s face hardened.
“You’re spiraling.”
“Your background file was connected to a fatal-incident review bearing my mother’s name.”
For a fraction of a second, genuine fear crossed his face.
Then it vanished.
“You’ve been digging through confidential company records.”
“Answer me.”
“I never met your mother.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
He pushed the ice pack aside.
“Ashlynn, your mother died from a cardiac event.”
“Yes.”
“So stop turning her death into some conspiracy because you’re embarrassed about attacking me.”
I stared at him.
“You knew the official cause.”
He said nothing.
“I never told you how she died.”
“You must have.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“No, Gregory.”
His throat moved.
At our wedding, he had toasted my mother without ever naming the cause of death.
During our year together, I had said she “died suddenly.”
Nothing more.
Yet he knew.
He looked toward the bar.
I lowered my voice.
“What was in the original background report?”
“Ask Dana.”
“I tried.”
That frightened him again.
“You spoke to Dana?”
“Why?”
He stood abruptly.
I stayed seated.
“Sit down.”
“You don’t give me orders.”
“No. Your father does.”
He stared at me.
I saw the hit land.
“Your father planned the attack. Your father booked cabin 8142. Your father paid Voss. And someone using Dana’s credentials filed a report before you ever raised the bat.”
Gregory leaned over the table.
“You think because you can break someone’s wrist you understand power?”
“I didn’t break yours.”
“You could have.”
“That bothers you more than what you tried to do.”
His eyes burned.
Then he whispered, “You were supposed to be predictable.”
There it was.
I kept my face still.
“Predictable how?”
“Proud. Defensive. Quick to prove you weren’t afraid.”
“You expected me to hit you.”
He realized the trap too late.
I continued.
“That’s why the phone was recording. If I struck first, you had footage. If I didn’t, the bat forced the issue.”
Gregory stepped back.
“Ashlynn—”
“You were building a violence case.”
He said nothing.
“What happened after that?”
Silence.
“Medical confinement?”
Nothing.
“Financial incapacity?”
His eyes moved.
That was the one.
The forged power of attorney wasn’t enough.
They wanted me declared unstable.
Or temporarily incapable.
Long enough to exercise my shareholder vote.
I rose slowly.
“The Calder board vote.”
Gregory’s face changed.
I had guessed correctly.
“When is it?”
He said nothing.
I already knew.
Four days after we returned from the cruise.
“That’s what this is about.”
“You don’t understand Calder.”
“No. But my mother did.”
At the mention of her, Gregory snapped.
“Your mother should have sold when she had the chance.”
Silence fell between us.
He looked horrified by his own words.
I stepped closer.
“What chance?”
He backed away.
“You’re twisting this.”
“You said she should have sold.”
“I meant the shares.”
“How did you know your father offered?”
Gregory’s jaw tightened.
I took one more step.
“What happened to my mother?”
He whispered, “Ask Dana what she found in Tampa.”
Then he walked away.
I did not follow.
Instead, I called the corporate cyber analyst.
“Search Dana’s deleted file for Tampa.”
He returned five minutes later.
“We recovered one attachment reference.”
“What is it?”
“A hotel security video request.”
“Hotel?”
“Yes.”
“Date?”
The day before my mother died.
“Location?”
“Tampa.”
My hands went cold.
“Was the video recovered?”
“Not in our system.”
“Who requested it?”
A pause.
“Dana Brooks.”
“Who was the subject?”
The analyst exhaled.
May you like
“Daniel Hartman.”
📖 Read what Dana had been investigating in Tampa before my mother died—and why Gregory retaliated by turning my own employer against me in CHAPTER 9. 👇
