Chapter 5 - The Gathering at Oakridge
Friday arrived under a dark, bruising sky.
The estate meeting was held at the family's main residence—a sprawling stone manor built in the 1920s, set on fifty acres of manicured woodland outside the city. It was the house where my father had lived, where Eleanor still resided, and where every holiday meal had felt like a slow execution.
I pulled my old sedan up the winding gravel driveway, parking behind Eleanor's silver Mercedes and Maya's red sports car. Beside my car, a sleek black town car sat idling—Clara Mercer's vehicle.
I stepped out into the damp autumn air, adjusting the knot of my dark tie.
Julian Vance met me on the stone porch, his heavy wool overcoat draped over his shoulders. Clara stood beside him, carrying two heavy leather accordion files stuffed with corporate ledgers and land deeds.
"They have two attorneys inside from Blackwood Capital," Julian warned softly, his breath misting in the cold air. "And Eleanor's personal counsel, Arthur Pendelton. They think this is a routine signature signing."
"Good," I said, pushing open the heavy mahogany front door.
The grand foyer smelled of old polished wood, beeswax, and fresh lilies. From the formal library at the end of the hall, the low, confident hum of male voices carried through the quiet house.
We walked down the carpeted hallway, our footsteps silent.
Inside the library, a fire crackled in the massive stone fireplace. Eleanor sat behind my father's old executive desk, looking pristine in a dark navy silk dress, a pearl necklace resting at her throat. Maya sat in a plush armchair beside her, scrolling through her phone, wearing an expensive designer blazer.
Across the desk sat two men in tailored suits—representatives from Blackwood Capital—and Arthur Pendelton, Eleanor’s long-time family lawyer.
"Ah, Leo," Eleanor said without looking up from the contract spread before her. Her voice was cool, distant, completely restored to its polished, aristocratic sheen. "You're late. Sit down. Mr. Pendelton was just explaining the distribution schedule for the liquid proceeds."
Maya glanced up from her phone, letting out a sharp, dramatic sigh. "Great. The martyr has arrived. Are you going to throw another temper tantrum about the Maine house, Leo? Because I really don't have the energy for your daddy-issues today."
I didn't sit down. I walked to the center of the Persian rug, standing directly across the desk from Eleanor. Clara and Julian stepped up on either side of me.
Eleanor's eyes finally snapped up from the papers. When she saw Clara Mercer and Julian standing beside me, holding heavy legal files, her hand tightened slightly on her gold fountain pen.
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"Julian?" Eleanor’s voice narrowed, a sharp edge cutting through her polite tone. "What is this? This is a private family administrative meeting. You were notified that your presence was not required until Monday's corporate transition."
"The corporate transition is happening today, Eleanor," Julian said smoothly, pulling a leather chair out and taking a seat. "Only it won't be with Blackwood Capital."
