Page 102 of Tyler's Rule
Cassie: Gotta be cold, hard cash, then. How about we fake an inheritance? His parents aren’t around to confirm it. Maybe like: Your grandfather left something off the books. Needs to be handled before the vote.
A debate continued with the women refining the idea. I’d reached the most recent texts, where Mila told them the solicitors would publicise any meeting, so they needed to rethink, when my phone buzzed with a direct message from my sister.
Mila: Can I come up to talk to you? I just had an email from the solicitor.
Sickness wound through me.
I replied to give me five minutes, then darted into the bedroom.
Tyler sat up, his grey-eyed gaze settling on me. “Something wrong?”
It felt like it. I couldn’t be sure why, as Mila’s message hadn’t said there was a problem. Yet I was certain there was.
“Mila’s coming up to talk to me. Is that okay?”
“Course it is. I’ll get dressed.” He left the bed, grabbed clothes from the wardrobe, and kissed me on his way to the bathroom.
He was out and ready by the time her knock hit the door.
I opened it, Tyler at my back, fear tightening my gut. Mila’s ashen expression did nothing to help my nerves, and Tyler eyed Convict in the hall then raised an eyebrow at me. I inclined my head for him to go outside if he wanted, then drew Mila with me across the room to the same little sun patch.
I curled my legs under myself. “Why does it feel like the solicitors are about to ruin our day?”
She swallowed, then wordlessly handed me her phone.
An appointment was open, sent via email. For a second, my brain fritzed, but the words slowly filtered through.
All voting members of the Marchant Haulage family board are instructed to attend…
I raised my head. “They’re going ahead with it?”
“They are.”
“When?”
“In three days.”
Three days to fix everything. Or lose it.
Mila tapped the attendee list. “This went out to me, Kane, Wallace, Primrose, and Denise Harford. I rang the solicitor to ask why it was suddenly going ahead, and he explained that Denise had pushed for it, forcing a decision this morning. They agreed with her surmising that a single vote in the trusted companies met the requirements. From what I picked up, they’re just relieved for it to be underway.”
I stared, bile rising up my throat. “We took her husband last night, and the next day, she does this?”
My hand shook, but I grabbed my phone and dialled Lovelyn. She answered, her voice thick with tiredness.
“I did it. I found a connection.”
The bitterness spread across my tongue. “Financial links between MH and the trusted companies?”
“Yep. I’ve been working at this until my eyes crossed, but I knew there was something lurking in plain sight.” She paused for effect. “An investment company, established years ago by Austin and his cronies. They fed money into it at regular intervals. Big amounts. They then put that into high-risk funds. The payouts were split four ways, and one went to Austin’s personal income. He paid tax on it, legitimising the cash neatly.”
Mila stared at the phone. “I have the worst feeling about this. Where did the money come from in the first place?”
Regular cash injections…
My brain gathered in a dozen loose threads. Rhys Jacobs in my grandfather’s office. The close relationship between Austin and his business friends.
The way he kept Mila away from one of the ships.
