Page 119 of The Tower

I squeeze her hand in solidarity, then turn to Jack, who’s gathering his materials with the satisfied air of a man who’s just done exactly what he was paid handsomely to do. “Thank you,” I say, knowing the words can never express how much I appreciate all his work and support.

“My pleasure, Ms. Reed,” he replies, shaking my hand. “Though I suspect your father’s absence indicates we haven’t seen the last of this particular battle.”

The thought sends a chill through me despite the warmth of the courtroom. Where is Father? What is he planning?

“Ms. Reed.” A man in an expensive suit approaches, his manner deferential but urgent. “Charles Whitmore, Reed Cosmetics board member. A moment of your time?”

Ruby squeezes my hand as Grimm seems to appear from nowhere to slide in front of me, his posture protective. “This isn’t the time or place for business discussions.”

“It’s important,” Whitmore insists, his gaze fixed on me. “In light of your father’s … absence and the court’s ruling, there are decisions that need to be made regarding the company leadership.”

“What are you talking about?”

Whitmore looks genuinely surprised. “You’re the primary shareholder of Reed Cosmetics.”

I look between him and Grimm. “I think you must be mistaken.”

He shakes his head, looking disgusted. “I never cared for your father, Miss Reed. If today has proven anything, it’s that my instincts are still sharp.” He gestures toward one of the tables in front of the bench.

Grimm raises a brow, and I understand the silent question—Shall I get you out of this?

I reply with the smallest shake of my head, then take a seat at the table, with Mr. Whitmore across from me and Grimm at my side.

“The controlling shares of Reed Cosmetics belonged to your mother,” he says. “It was she who conceived of the company and fought to not only create it but to build it from the ground up. And she, of course, was the majority shareholder. The company holds the Reed name, but it’s not a subsidiary of Reed Industries as your father often suggests. Quite the opposite. Reed Cosmetics is the majority shareholder of Reed Industries, a company Victor set up after Reed Cosmetics took off in the market.”

I can only gape at him. “Why do I not know any of this?”

Mr. Whitmore meets my eyes. “Your father was good at keeping his secrets. But the point is that when your mother died, you inherited those shares. As you were a minor, the shares were held in trust with your father acting as proxy. Now that you’ve been declared legally competent, control reverts to you directly. You’re effectively the CEO and majority shareholder of Reed Cosmetics. And, by default, of Reed Industries as well.”

The information hits me like a physical blow. My mother owned the company? All these years, I’d thought Reed Cosmetics was my father’s creation, the shining, most profitable jewel in the family jewel box.

“My mother’s company,” I whisper, the words bringing both pain and a strange, unexpected comfort. Something of hers has found its way back to me, across the years and through all my father’s lies.

“Your mother was quite a visionary,” Whitmore says. “Though to be fair, your father did expand the business considerably after her death. The board is prepared to convene an emergency meeting as soon as you’re available.”

A gift from my mother. A connection to her that my father had hidden from me, just like he’d hidden the truth about her death. Tears prick at my eyes, a complicated mix of grief and gratitude washing through me.

The room seems to tilt as emotions swirl around me, the strain of the day catching up with me. Liam’s hand tightens on mine.

“Not today,” he says firmly to Whitmore. “She’ll contact you when she’s ready.”

Whitmore looks like he wants to argue, but something in Liam’s expression makes him think better of it. “Of course,” he says, handing me a business card. “At your convenience, Ms. Reed. But I urge you not to delay. Reed Cosmetics—or perhaps I should say Lydia’s legacy—is a multi-billion-dollar enterprise, and a leadership vacuum creates … opportunities for others. We’ll keep this away from the press for now, but under the circumstances, I would expect a leak. And Ms. Reed, be careful. Your father is a man with a quick temper. As, I fear, you already know.”

He turns without waiting for my reply. As he walks away, I turn to Grimm, my head spinning. “Did you know about this?”

“Not a bit,” he admits. “But it makes sense. Victor Reed could never have built something so successful on his own.”

“I don’t know anything about running a cosmetics empire,” I say, panic edging into my voice. “I can’t⁠—”

“Hey.” He cups my face in his hands, forcing me to focus on him. “One thing at a time. Right now, Reed Cosmetics and Reed Industries have excellent management. They’ll be fine. We, however, need to get out of here.”

He’s right. The courtroom is filling with more reporters, all clamoring for a statement, for a photo, for a piece of the sensational story that’s unfolding. Ruby presses close on my other side, forming a human barrier as we make our way toward the exit.

We make it as far as the courthouse steps before the full force of the media descends. Cameras flash, voices overlap, and a cacophony of questions are tossed at me.

“Ms. Reed! How does it feel to be declared legally competent?”

“Mr. Grimm! Is this romance a cover for a corporate merger between Reed Cosmetics and Grimm International?”