Chapter 3 - THE FILE HE COULDN’T EXPLAIN
Travis claimed the upload meant nothing.
His attorney said executives often delegated work while remaining logged into their computers.
That was possible.
So Lena did not celebrate.
She kept digging.
The court temporarily froze the $3.4 million transfer while both sides produced records.
It was not a final victory.
It was a pause.
But for Travis, the pause mattered.
Hawthorne had already signed a purchase agreement for the industrial land.
If funding failed, the deal could collapse.
For the first time since the divorce began, Travis needed something from me.
He called.
I let it ring.
Then he texted.
WE NEED TO TALK FOR THE KIDS.
I stared at the message.
For the kids.
Three words people use when they want leverage to sound noble.
Martin advised me to keep communication in writing.
So I replied:
Please communicate through counsel regarding company matters.
Travis answered almost immediately.
This is exactly what I mean. You’re trying to destroy everything Owen and Maisie will inherit.
I did not respond.
Dana’s audit expanded.
She reviewed five years of related-party transactions.
Not every payment was suspicious.
That mattered.
Hawthorne had done some legitimate work.
Victor had provided actual advisory services.
Rebecca had invested money in several projects.
The more accurate the investigation became, the harder it was for Travis to dismiss it as revenge.
The issue was not that every dollar was stolen.
The issue was that certain transactions had been hidden, mischaracterized, or approved using documents I said I never signed.
Dana identified roughly $6.1 million in transfers between Northgate and related entities over five years.
About $2.2 million appeared reasonably supported by contracts and services.
Another $1.4 million required more documentation.
The remaining amount included the frozen $3.4 million and several smaller transactions tied to Hawthorne.
Then she found the bank file.
Hawthorne had arranged a $6.5 million credit facility with Midwest Federal Bank.
The loan package included representations about the source of Hawthorne’s equity contribution.
Part of that equity was supposed to come from Northgate.
Attached was a Northgate member consent.
My name appeared on it.
So did Travis’s.
My signature was false.
That changed the stakes.
Until then, much of our fight belonged in civil court.
Ownership.
Divorce valuation.
Fiduciary duties.
Accounting.
But submitting false documents to a lender created a different problem.
Lena told me not to speculate.
“Bank lawyers will review it.”
“Do we report it?”
“We preserve it and follow proper channels.”
Within weeks, the bank began its own inquiry.
Northgate’s outside counsel opened an internal review.
For the first time, people inside the company started asking questions Travis could not answer with confidence alone.
Claire became central.
She hired her own attorney before giving a formal statement.
I respected her for that.
She told investigators and company counsel that Travis had instructed her to keep me assigned to Executive and Records.
He had also asked her to draft an incident memorandum claiming I had been “seen reviewing confidential corporate files.”
“Did you see her do that?” the attorney asked.
“No.”
“Then why did you prepare the memo?”
“Because Mr. Fenwick instructed me to.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
That refusal probably saved Claire’s career.
Then she produced the email.
Draft this now. We may need it if Eliza becomes difficult.
There it was.
Not a confession.
Not a cartoon villain saying, “Let’s frame my wife.”
Something more believable.
A record built in advance.
The company’s independent counsel recommended that Travis temporarily step away from control of certain financial decisions while the review continued.
He refused.
Northgate’s minority investors had rarely challenged him before.
Now they did.
A special meeting was called.
I was not invited as management.
My ownership itself remained disputed.
But I had counsel present for the portions concerning member rights.
Travis arrived in an expensive navy suit.
The same kind he wore when magazines photographed him.
He looked at me across the conference table.
“You’re enjoying this.”
I almost laughed.
“I’m paying lawyers by the hour, Travis.”
His jaw tightened.
“You could have come to me.”
“I did. For years.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“No. You mean I could have stayed quiet.”
The room went still.
One of the outside directors interrupted.
“This meeting is not about the divorce.”
Travis leaned back.
“Tell her that.”
Lena answered before I could.
“We agree.”
That annoyed him more.
The special committee imposed temporary controls.
Two signatures for related-party transfers.
Independent review of Hawthorne transactions.
Preservation of electronic records.
No destruction of documents.
No transfer of the industrial property until authorization issues were resolved.
Travis walked out furious.
That night, he did something reckless.
He accessed Northgate’s archived document server from home.
IT alerts showed multiple attempts to delete old versions of the 2019 recapitalization folder.
The system retained backups.
He deleted nothing permanently.
But the attempt was logged.
The following morning, Northgate’s outside counsel placed him on administrative leave.
Not fired.
Not arrested.
Leave.
Pending investigation.
He called Rebecca immediately.
That phone call created the next break.
Because Rebecca had spent months telling everyone she was neutral.
But after Travis told her to “keep your mouth shut about Hawthorne,” she called me.
I almost didn’t answer.
May you like
“Eliza,” she said.
“I think I need to tell you what my brother asked me to sign.”
