Chapter 106
The Grandmother's Proxy
The proxy was in a clear evidence sleeve, its paper browned at the edges and folded twice along the same crease. Judge Price held it under the auditorium lights while the regulator's investigator, Lila Grant, photographed each page.
Mara did not touch it. She had touched enough of her grandmother's things in the last year to know that paper could carry a person's voice long after the person had stopped speaking. This one carried something worse: an instruction written in the hand Mara remembered from birthday cards and tax reminders.
I appoint the holder of this instrument to vote my fifteen percent in the best interest of Voss Meridian, provided the vote is cast to preserve the company's independence.
The signature beneath was Eleanor Ellison's. The date was eleven months before her death.
“It appears valid,” Ruth said.
“Appears is not a legal conclusion,” Price replied. “We need chain of custody, capacity records, and the governing instrument that made the appointment effective or ineffective.”
Grant nodded. “The locker was rented by Martin Kaye under an alias. The briefcase contained three folders, a burner phone, and a key labeled E-17. We have not opened the key's location yet.”
Mara kept her eyes on the proxy. “Why would my grandmother give Martin a proxy?”
“We do not know that she did,” Grant said. “The instrument names the holder, not Mr. Kaye. Someone may have obtained it after her death.”
Adrian leaned toward Anika. “If it is effective, does Mara lose the vote?”
“Not automatically,” Anika said. “A proxy can be revoked, limited by a trust, or invalidated by a later instrument. We need the original trust terms and every transfer record.”
Julian stood near the rear exit, hands in his coat pockets. He had not tried to approach Mara since the discovery. She was grateful. The old Julian would have crossed the room and asked whether she was all right before asking what the paper meant. The new one waited for counsel and evidence.
Harker's spokesman returned to the microphone. “This confirms that Ms. Ellison's personal position cannot be treated as the company's position. We request that the board recognize the proxy immediately.”
“The board will recognize nothing tonight,” Price said. “The monitor is issuing a preservation order.”
The spokesman smiled as if he had expected a delay. “Every hour costs employees money.”
Nia turned from the aisle. “Then deposit the ten million dollars without conditions.”
He did not answer.
Mara's phone vibrated. Her niece, Sophie, had sent a photograph of a locked metal box on Eleanor's desk at home. Found this behind the false drawer. Do I call Ruth?
Mara's pulse changed. “Ruth,” she said, showing her the image.
The box was small, blue, and marked with the same E-17 label as the key.
“Do not open it,” Ruth said. “We will secure it under the estate protocol.”
“Sophie is alone in the apartment.”
Adrian was already reaching for his phone. “I can go.”
“You are not going alone,” Mara said. The words came out sharper than intended. She had no wish to place Adrian in a room with evidence and old feelings while Harker watched the clock.
“Then send a marshal,” he said. “Arthur is with Lena. I can be useful without making decisions.”
The distinction, again, mattered. Mara called the regulator. Grant assigned an officer and asked Adrian to wait in the lobby until she arrived.
Julian approached Price. “The board can vote to suspend recognition of any proxy pending review.”
“You can propose that,” Price said. “You cannot preside over it if your uncle's conduct is part of the evidence.”
“I will recuse myself.”
“Put it in writing.”
Mara looked at him. “And the company?”
“Imani can operate under the emergency order. I will sign only what the monitor authorizes.”
It was a costly answer for a man whose identity had been built around control. She felt the pull of admiration and refused to confuse it with permission.
At midnight, Grant called from Eleanor's apartment. The box had been secured. Inside were a second proxy, a handwritten revocation, and a letter addressed to Mara but not mailed.
Ruth read the revocation over the phone.
“Your grandmother revoked the proxy six weeks before her death,” she said. “She wrote that the holder had begun treating the company as a prize rather than a responsibility.”
Mara closed her eyes. “Who was the holder?”
“The original proxy names Martin Kaye.”
The room seemed to tilt. Martin had not forged the instrument. He had been given authority and then lost it.
“There is more,” Ruth said. “The letter says Eleanor discovered a second copy in Felix's office.”
On the line, papers moved.
“Mara,” Ruth continued, “your grandmother wrote that if the proxy surfaced after her death, you must ask why Felix needed Martin to keep it.”
Grant's voice cut in. “We have an urgent problem. Martin's burner phone just powered on.”
“Where?” Mara asked.
“Inside Voss Meridian.”
The auditorium lights hummed above her. The company had been preserved by an emergency order, but someone with a revoked proxy was still moving through its records.
Price gathered the evidence sleeves. “Tomorrow we secure the building.”
Mara looked toward Julian and Adrian, separated by the aisle and by years of unfinished damage.
“No,” she said. “Tonight. Before he decides which evidence to burn.”