Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE THAT HAD TOO MANY SECRETS
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The Whitmore estate sat behind iron gates on thirty acres outside Raleigh.
Emily had seen photographs online.
The photographs had lied.
It was not a house.
It was an institution.
Three stories of pale stone rose above manicured gardens and enormous oak trees. A circular drive surrounded a fountain. A separate guesthouse sat near the woods, and a long pool shimmered behind the main residence.
Emily stared through the car window.
“People actually live here?”
Beside her, Liam glanced up from his phone.
“I do.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His mouth almost moved.
Noah had flown to his mother’s house the previous evening, leaving behind enough tension to fill the private jet Liam had offered and Emily had refused.
She had insisted on driving.
Liam had insisted on coming with her.
So they had compromised.
His driver drove Emily’s car.
Apparently that was how billionaires compromised.
When they entered the house, a woman in her late fifties hurried from the hallway.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Her eyes went immediately to Emily.
Then softened.
“You must be Mrs. Whitmore.”
Emily still wasn’t used to that.
“Emily is fine.”
The woman smiled.
“Maria Alvarez. I’ve worked for Liam since Noah was in kindergarten.”
Emily looked at Liam.
“She calls you Liam?”
“Only when she’s angry.”
Maria nodded.
“Which is often.”
Emily laughed.
Liam looked offended.
It was strangely domestic.
Then heels clicked against marble.
A tall blonde woman descended the staircase.
She was perhaps forty-five, flawlessly dressed, and wearing the expression of someone entering a courtroom she expected to win.
“Liam.”
His face closed instantly.
“Margaret.”
Emily recognized the name from newspaper articles.
Margaret Whitmore Lawson.
Liam’s older sister.
Board member.
Philanthropist.
Professional socialite.
Margaret looked Emily up and down.
Not rudely.
Worse.
Clinically.
“So this is her.”
Emily smiled.
“I’m usually called Emily.”
Margaret’s eyebrows rose.
Liam stepped between them slightly.
“Why are you here?”
“Mother asked me to check on you.”
“Our mother hasn’t asked you to check on me since 2008.”
“She’s worried.”
“About?”
Margaret glanced toward Emily.
“The situation.”
Emily felt the first spark of anger.
“I’m standing right here.”
“I’m aware.”
“Margaret.”
Liam’s tone changed.
One word.
Cold enough to freeze the room.
Margaret sighed.
“Fine. Welcome to the family, Emily.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re very young.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Liam is nineteen years older than you.”
Emily looked at Liam.
“Really? Nobody mentioned that during the wedding.”
Maria coughed into her hand to hide a laugh.
Margaret’s eyes narrowed.
Liam looked almost proud.
Then Margaret said, “You should understand what you married into.”
Emily’s amusement disappeared.
“Then explain it.”
“Margaret.”
“No, Liam. She deserves to know.”
Emily turned toward him.
The same phrase Noah had practically used.
She deserves to know.
Margaret walked into the library.
After a moment Emily followed.
Liam came behind her.
On the far wall hung photographs of generations of Whitmores.
Governors.
Bankers.
Developers.
Men who looked as though they had never waited in line for anything.
Margaret stopped before a framed photograph.
Liam, perhaps twenty-five, stood beside a beautiful dark-haired woman.
He looked different.
Younger, obviously.
But that wasn’t it.
He was smiling openly.
The woman held a little boy.
Noah.
Emily understood.
“Catherine?”
Margaret nodded.
“Liam’s first wife.”
Liam’s face became hard.
“This conversation is over.”
Margaret ignored him.
“They divorced ten years ago. It cost him seventy million dollars, three board seats, and almost full custody of Noah.”
Emily stared.
Margaret continued.
“Catherine convinced half this family that Liam was impossible to live with.”
“Margaret.”
“She told the court he monitored her spending, controlled her travel, investigated her friends.”
Emily looked at Liam.
“Did you?”
His answer was immediate.
“Yes.”
Emily’s stomach dropped.
Margaret smiled without humor.
“And there it is.”
Liam walked toward Emily.
“There was a reason.”
“There always is,” Margaret said.
Emily held up a hand.
“I want to hear him.”
Margaret fell silent.
Liam looked at Emily.
“Catherine was moving corporate funds through charities she controlled.”
Emily blinked.
“What?”
“I discovered almost twelve million dollars missing.”
Margaret’s expression flickered.
Liam continued.
“I hired investigators. I monitored the accounts. I tracked meetings. Catherine told the court I was controlling her because explaining the truth publicly would have destroyed Whitmore Development and probably sent members of my own family to prison.”
Emily’s heart began beating faster.
“Members?”
Liam looked toward Margaret.
Margaret looked away.
That told Emily everything.
“Who else?”
Liam said nothing.
Emily’s voice hardened.
“You keep deciding what I should know.”
“That isn’t what I’m doing.”
“It feels exactly like what you’re doing.”
He took a breath.
“My half brother Grant was involved.”
Emily remembered the name.
Grant Whitmore.
Chief Financial Officer.
The man smiling beside Liam at the wedding.
The man who had toasted to “new beginnings.”
“You still employ him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I never had enough evidence to prove he knew where the money came from.”
Margaret folded her arms.
“And because Mother begged Liam not to destroy the family.”
Liam’s eyes flashed.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No. I’m trying to prevent another disaster.”
She turned to Emily.
“The Halston partnership requires Liam to maintain fifty-one percent voting control of Whitmore Development. Grant has spent three years building an investor group to challenge that control.”
Emily remembered Noah’s words.
“What does that have to do with my father?”
Liam was silent.
Emily faced him.
“Tell me.”
“Carter Manufacturing owns land.”
She frowned.
“We own factories.”
“And seventy-eight acres beside the planned Halston waterfront corridor.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Our old Wilmington property?”
“Yes.”
“My father said it was worthless.”
“It isn’t.”
“How much?”
Liam’s expression was careful.
“Approximately ninety million dollars after rezoning.”
Emily actually stepped backward.
Ninety million.
Her father had told her the property was nearly useless.
Liam continued.
“Whoever controls that parcel controls the eastern access route to Halston.”
“And you bought Carter’s debt.”
“Yes.”
“So you control it.”
“Temporarily.”
Emily felt sick.
“Did you marry me for that land?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly she almost believed it.
Almost.
“But the marriage contract gives Whitmore Development negotiation rights over Carter assets.”
“Yes.”
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I told your father.”
Emily froze.
“What?”
“I explained everything to Thomas before he signed.”
Her father.
The man who cried when she agreed.
The man who told her Liam was their only option.
Emily grabbed her phone.
“Call him.”
“Emily.”
“Call my father.”
She already was.
Thomas answered on the fourth ring.
“Sweetheart.”
“Dad, how much is the Wilmington property worth?”
Silence.
Emily closed her eyes.
“Dad.”
“Emily, I can explain.”
“How much?”
Another silence.
Then her father whispered, “Liam knows.”
She looked at her husband.
His face was stone.
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“Sweetheart, please.”
“How much?”
“Maybe eighty million. Maybe more.”
Her chest tightened.
“You told me it was worthless.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Thomas began crying.
Emily had heard her father cry only twice.
When her mother died.
And when Emily agreed to marry Liam.
“Dad?”
May you like
His next words were barely audible.
“I didn’t lose the company by accident.”
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