Chapter 42
Chapter 42:
This time it was a man in a sharp grey suit carrying a leather briefcase — Vance, the chief trust attorney for the Compton estate. He bowed respectfully to Eleanor, then to June. He opened his briefcase, withdrew a thick document bound in dark blue leather with gold foil lettering, and held out a Montblanc fountain pen to Eleanor.
Eleanor pointed a shaking finger at the bottom line. “Sign it, June p>
June set the apple down and took the folder with a small frown. She flipped to the first page and scanned it.
Her breath caught. Her pupils dilated.
It was an irrevocable deed of trust transfer. Eleanor was unconditionally gifting five percent of her personal shares in Compton Holdings directly to June.
June closed the folder. She shook her head and pushed it back toward the lawyer.
“No,” June said firmly. “Eleanor, this is too much. I can’t accept this p>
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Five percent of Compton Holdings was not simply money. It was power — a guaranteed seat on the board of directors and annual dividends running into the tens of millions.
Eleanor’s expression hardened. She pushed the folder back.
“This is not charity, child,” Eleanor said. “This is armor p>
She tapped the leather cover deliberately.
“As long as Cole refuses to release you, he will use his capital to bully you. He will freeze your accounts. He will go after your employers.” Eleanor looked directly into June’s eyes. “With this five percent, you have a shield. It won’t make you completely untouchable — Cole is ruthless and he will look for other avenues — but it removes his absolute control. He cannot legally freeze the assets of a major shareholder on a whim. He cannot force you out of your own building without triggering a board-level war. It gives you the leverage to fight back on equal ground p>
June looked at the gold lettering on the folder.
She thought about the frozen credit cards. She thought about the stolen patents. She thought about Cole’s threat to dismantle Apex Bio.
Eleanor was right. June needed a sword to answer Cole’s bulldozer.
She picked up the Montblanc pen. The metal was cold and heavy in her hand. She turned to the last page and signed her name in sharp, decisive strokes.
Vance produced a heavy notary stamp from his bag and pressed it onto the paper.
“The transfer is effective immediately, Mrs. Compton,” Vance announced.
Three floors below, in the dim underground parking garage, Alycia sat behind the wheel of her Porsche Cayenne with both hands gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles went white.
She had her phone pressed hard to her ear.
“She humiliated me, Mom!” Alycia said, her voice pitched high with fury. “That old woman threw me out like garbage in front of the guards p>
On the other end of the line, Susan Beasley sighed.
“Calm down, Alycia,” Susan said, lowering her voice. “I just got off the phone with a contact on the inside board. You need to hear this p>
A pause.
“The old woman just transferred five percent of Compton Holdings to the ex-wife p>
Alycia’s jaw dropped. The phone slipped from her fingers and hit the floor mat.
Five percent. That was billions of dollars.