Chapter 7 - The Man Who Wanted the Blackwood Name
Gabriel Sloane called at 7:11 the next morning.
Not Sebastian’s phone.
The mansion’s main line.
Martin traced immediately.
“Keep him talking.”
Sebastian answered.
“Gabriel.”
His former friend laughed softly.
“You sound tired.”
“You murdered my wife.”
“I was wondering how long it would take you to reach that conclusion.”
“Police have the dash video.”
Silence.
For the first time, Gabriel had not expected the next move.
Then:
“Video can be interpreted many ways.”
“You ran her off the road.”
“She panicked.”
“You hit her vehicle.”
“I tried to make her stop.”
“At eighty miles an hour?”
Gabriel’s breathing changed.
Sebastian continued.
“Mercer told you to stop her.”
“Mercer told me she was about to destroy everything.”
“Everything you stole.”
“No.”
Gabriel’s voice sharpened.
“Everything we built.”
“There is no we anymore.”
“You think Blackwood Holdings exists because you were brilliant?”
Sebastian said nothing.
Gabriel laughed bitterly.
“I spent twenty-six years standing beside you while everyone called you the genius.”
“You were paid hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“I didn’t want money.”
“What did you want?”
A pause.
“The name.”
Sebastian understood.
Not jealousy of wealth.
Jealousy of ownership.
Gabriel had helped build an empire that would always carry someone else’s surname.
Sebastian’s.
Eli’s.
Never his.
Gabriel continued.
“The trust should have named me equal partner.”
“So you stole.”
“I took what I earned.”
“You killed Madeline.”
“She forced my hand.”
Sebastian closed his eyes.
There it was.
The phrase weak men used when they wanted someone else responsible for their choices.
“She found you,” Sebastian said.
“She threatened you.”
“She threatened my life’s work.”
“She threatened your crime.”
Gabriel became quiet.
Then he said:
“You still don’t understand the dangerous part.”
“What?”
“The board meets at eleven.”
Sebastian looked at Martin.
Martin immediately opened his laptop.
Gabriel continued.
“Emergency session. Your fitness as chairman is on the agenda.”
Sebastian almost smiled.
“You think you’re going to attend a board meeting while police are searching for you?”
“I don’t need to.”
The line disconnected.
Martin stared at his screen.
“He’s right.”
“What?”
“Emergency board meeting.”
“Who called it?”
“Three independent directors.”
Ruiz looked up.
“On what grounds?”
Martin’s expression darkened.
“A psychiatric evaluation was submitted last night.”
Sebastian knew before hearing the name.
“Mercer.”
Martin nodded.
The report claimed Sebastian had suffered prolonged complicated grief, paranoia, emotional instability and impaired decision-making following Madeline’s death.
Attached were records suggesting multiple violent outbursts.
Half were false.
The other half were ordinary business disputes rewritten as symptoms.
There was more.
A separate report declared Eli’s condition severe enough that long-term institutional care might be necessary.
Maya whispered, “They’re still doing it.”
Sebastian looked toward his son.
Still turning his pain into paperwork.
Still transforming terror into evidence against him.
The trust clause returned to Sebastian’s mind.
If Sebastian became legally incapable and Eli required permanent medical guardianship, temporary voting control could pass to Gabriel as successor trustee.
Madeline had been right about everything.
Gabriel’s final move had begun.
At 10:45, Sebastian entered the Blackwood Holdings boardroom.
Police advised against it.
He went anyway.
Maya did not.
Eli remained protected at the estate with Ruiz and security.
Twelve directors sat around a table overlooking downtown Chicago.
Gabriel’s chair was empty.
His attorney appeared by video.
The meeting began.
An independent director cleared his throat.
“Sebastian, given the extraordinary allegations circulating this morning, we believe temporary leave may protect both you and the company.”
Sebastian placed a folder on the table.
“From whom?”
Nobody answered.
Another director spoke.
“We have medical reports.”
“From a doctor currently wanted by police.”
Faces changed.
Gabriel’s attorney interrupted.
“That characterization is prejudicial.”
Sebastian pressed a button.
The boardroom screen changed.
The dash-camera video began.
Snow.
Madeline’s SUV.
Gabriel’s voice.
I’m behind her.
People stopped breathing.
Sebastian allowed the recording to play until Mercer’s words filled the boardroom.
Then stop her.
He stopped the video.
“Would anyone like to continue discussing my fitness?”
Silence.
Gabriel’s attorney disconnected.
Sebastian opened Madeline’s accounting records.
“Over the last six years, Gabriel Sloane diverted at least sixty-one million dollars through vendors he controlled.”
Another director whispered a curse.
“Copies of the evidence have been provided to federal investigators.”
Sebastian looked around the table.
“This company will not be protected by hiding scandal.”
He paused.
“It will be protected by surviving the truth.”
The board unanimously suspended Gabriel.
Then Sebastian did something nobody expected.
He temporarily stepped down too.
Not because Mercer’s report had merit.
Because his son needed him more than the company did.
He appointed an independent interim chairman.
“I spent three years paying strangers to take care of Eli because I convinced myself running this company was something only I could do.”
He looked around the table.
“I was wrong.”
At the estate, Maya heard the announcement through Martin.
She looked toward Eli.
“He chose you.”
The boy did not fully understand.
But he smiled.
It was small.
The first smile anyone on staff had seen in months.
Sebastian returned after two.
Eli ran three steps toward him.
Then stopped.
Old fear.
Old habits.
Sebastian did not reach.
He crouched.
Eli decided.
Then he ran the rest of the way.
Straight into his father.
Sebastian held him.
Maya looked away to hide tears.
The moment lasted less than a minute.
Then Martin’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression hardened.
“They found Mercer.”
“Where?”
“Lake Geneva.”
Sebastian froze.
Near the old Blackwood property.
The same property where Madeline’s photograph had been taken.
“Was Gabriel with him?”
“No.”
“But Mercer had a key.”
“To what?”
Martin looked at him.
“Your old lake house.”
Eli heard.
The boy’s smile vanished.
“Lake house.”
Sebastian turned.
“You remember it?”
Eli nodded.
Then whispered:
“Mommy hide there.”
Sebastian’s blood ran cold.
“Hide what?”
May you like
Eli looked directly at him.
“Proof.”
