Emilia waited until the grandfather clock in the hallway struck eleven. Derek had left for a "late dinner meeting" with investors, delivered with that new, syrupy gentleness that made her skin crawl. It was even worse than the shouting and hitting ever had. She slowly tiptoed to the door and slid out of her room clad in her furry night robe and thick socks, she closed the door gently behind her and turned in the direction of the study. The door was half-opened, just enough for a sliver of blue light from Derek's computer screen to spill into the hall. He'd forgotten to lock it.
"He's so careless and arrogant," she muttered to no one in particular.
As she pushed the door wider, she could hear her heart beat hammering so loud that she was sure the security cameras could hear it. The room smelled of leather and his cologne as she moved straight to the desk.
The monitor was still on but in sleep mode. She tapped the mouse.
There were emails. Dozens of them.
She scrolled quickly.
From: Amanda Carson
To: Derek Carson
Subject: Final sequence
… Once the board meeting is set, we present the "amended" shareholder agreement. Alan's signature has been replicated perfectly, our contact in Graphics did exceptional work. Twenty percent becomes zero. Wallace Holdings folds into Carson Global as a wholly-owned subsidiary. No one will question it once the press release goes out…
Emilia's stomach lurched as she opened the attachment, and a PDF labeled
Shareholder_Agreement_Amended_v3.pdf." popped up:
Its signature page looked identical to the one her father had shown her years ago… except that the percentage had been changed from twenty to zero, and small clauses about "contingent dissolution rights" had been inserted.
She forwarded the email chain to the anonymous Gmail account Carla had set up for her, then deleted the sent record.
Next, she tried the bottom drawer, but it was locked.
She remembered seeing Derek spin the combination once, his birthday backward, then their wedding date.
She tried it.
Click.
Inside was a slim metal safe which is no bigger than a shoebox, but it had another combination lock. This one she didn't know, not a single idea.
She hesitated before typing her own birthday.
Nothing.
Her mother's birthday.
Nothing.
Then, on impulse, she tried the date her mother died, 15-09-2010.
The lock popped open.
Emilia stared.
Inside lay two folders.
The first was labeled
"Original – Wallace/Carson JV – Signed 2023."
She flipped it open. There it was: her father's real signature, twenty percent shares promised in exchange for the Carson family's capital injection and board seats during the restructuring. No dissolution clauses. No amendments.
The second folder was thinner.
"Certified Copy – Amended." The same document, but doctored. The signature page had been swapped; even to her untrained eye the ink looked slightly different under the desk lamp.
They had the original. They had always planned to swap it.
Then she heard footsteps.
Emilia froze.
"Shit!" She muttered.. Derek was back early.
She shoved the folders into her robe, spun the dial, closed the drawer, and darted behind the heavy drapes just in time as the study door swung open.
Derek was talking on the phone.
"Yeah, she's asleep. Still shaken from yesterday. Perfect. Keeps her compliant… No, Mother, I'm not worried. She's got nowhere to go."
He crossed the room, sat at the desk and began tapping keys.
Emilia held her breath, praying silently that the screen didn't show her forwarded email in the sent items. And after what felt like forever, he sighed, stood, and left, flicking off the light.
She waited for ten full minutes in the dark before slipping out.
Back in her room, she locked the door, slid under the covers, and opened her phone.
To Carla (burner chat):
I found emails and proof of forged documents. And the original agreement is in his safe. They have it. They've always had it but it's all with me now.
Carla's reply came seconds later:
Holy shit. We've got them. Tomorrow we move and also call Rachel. You did good, Em. You did really well.
Emilia pressed the phone to her chest and for the first time in weeks, she let it all out. She let herself cry. Not from fear this time.
But from rage.
From hope.
From the beginning of something dangerous and unstoppable