“I’m going to start with the part that matters,” he says, flipping it open like he’s about to present in court. “This isn’t just personal. This isn’t just Richard being a monster in your home.”
My jaw clenches.
Caleb meets my eyes. “This is business.”
I don’t respond. Not because I disagree, but because I already know.
My father doesn’t do anything without extracting value. Even cruelty has a purpose with him.
Caleb slides the first set of pages toward me. They all reference my father’s company. The one that likes to posture as respectable while bleeding every deal dry behind closed doors. The one he expected me to take over.
Caleb continues, “You know the acquisition has been delayed more times than it should have been. You know there’s been unnecessary friction. You know Simone’s been a complication you didn’t ask for.”
Simone.
The name makes something sour twist in my gut. The way she’s been paraded in and out of rooms like a prop. The way she’s looked at me like she was owed something. The way my father has kept her close, like a knife he could press into the right place when it mattered.
I say nothing.
Caleb taps a page. “Richard flew out yesterday.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
Caleb’s expression doesn’t change. “Private jet. Quiet manifest. Not under your travel bookings. Not under Northwell. Under Northfield.”
“Where?”
Caleb slides the next page forward. “Here. Same city as the target company’s executive team. Same hotel. Same conference level.”
My brain starts doing what it always does, filling in timelines, mapping intent, calculating outcomes.
Except the math is contaminated by one truth I can’t get around:
Lucy is gone. Lucy is hurt. Lucy is out there with my father’s poison in her head because I left her alone long enough for him to strike.
Caleb watches the shift in my face and lowers his voice slightly. “This meeting wasn’t a courtesy. It was an attempt to cut you out.”
I exhale, slow and sharp.
“So, he tanked my marriage,” I say, the words tasting like blood, “and he goes after my company in the same week.”
Caleb doesn’t blink. “He's efficient.”
I stare at the documents. My hands are steady now.
“It’s worse,” Caleb adds.
Of course it is.
He points to a section. “There are financial irregularities tied to the acquisition process. Small on paper. Death by a thousand cuts. Fees, consultants, subcontracts, ‘advisors’ that shouldn’t exist.”
He flips another page. Names. Shell companies. Transfers are routed through three layers to make them look clean.
Caleb says, “Richard’s been using this acquisition as a siphon. He didn’t bring us this deal to help you. He brought it to control you. To push you under him.”
My jaw ticks.
“And when you didn’t play the role he wanted,” Caleb continues, “he escalated.”
