Chapter 2 - THE DEBT PRESTON CREATED
Roman did not explain inside the church.
I did.
Or tried.
Page after page.
Three shell companies.
North Beacon Capital.
Kensington Maritime Advisory.
Sable Atlantic Holdings.
Each had purchased DuPont debt at different times.
All eventually led back to entities controlled by Preston.
But buying debt wasn't illegal.
The next document was different.
Payments to a scheduling manager inside DuPont Shipping.
My father's former operations director.
Nathan Cole.
I knew Nathan.
He had worked for Dad eleven years.
Roman said quietly:
“Cole redirected three high-value shipments through overloaded terminals.”
My stomach dropped.
The delays that cost us our largest clients.
“He was paid?”
“Yes.”
“By Preston?”
“Through North Beacon.”
Preston stepped forward.
“This is fabricated.”
Roman did not even look at him.
Then I found emails.
Preston to Nathan.
Another two late deliveries and DuPont's insurance renewal collapses.
Another:
Once Edward is desperate enough, he'll accept family consolidation.
Edward.
My father.
I stopped breathing.
“Family consolidation.”
Marriage.
Dad moved closer.
“Eleanor.”
I turned.
“You knew?”
“No.”
His answer came immediately.
“I swear.”
Roman looked at him.
“But you knew I offered help.”
Dad froze.
Different accusation.
I stared.
“What?”
Roman's face hardened.
“Six months ago, I contacted your father.”
I looked at Dad.
He looked older than he had ten minutes earlier.
“He offered money,” Dad said.
Roman corrected:
“I offered forensic accountants.”
Silence.
“Outside counsel.”
Nothing.
“And temporary financing secured against actual company assets rather than Eleanor.”
The words landed like a slap.
I whispered:
“You could have stopped this?”
Dad shook his head.
“It wasn't that simple.”
“Wasn't it?”
“Roman Vale doesn't give things without consequences.”
Roman laughed once.
“Coming from the man who was about to give his daughter to Preston Kensington to settle a balance sheet.”
Dad flinched.
Good.
I hated that I thought good.
Preston finally stepped forward.
“You think Eleanor can simply walk away?”
I looked at him.
He smiled.
“Your father signed personal guarantees.”
Dad's face changed.
Preston continued:
“House.”
“Company shares.”
“Chloe's tuition trust.”
My sister whispered:
“What?”
Preston looked directly at her.
“If Eleanor breaks the marriage agreement, the restructuring offer disappears.”
Chloe went white.
I felt the old fear return.
Then Roman said:
“There is no enforceable marriage condition.”
Preston turned.
“What?”
“The side letter your attorneys drafted was never incorporated into the final debt agreements.”
Roman's attorney stepped forward.
“And conditioning commercial debt relief on a personal marriage arrangement creates several other problems your counsel may enjoy explaining.”
Preston's smile vanished.
I looked at Roman.
“You're sure?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“My attorneys are.”
Good answer.
Then he turned toward the priest.
“My apologies.”
The poor man looked as if he wanted another profession.
Roman looked back at me.
“What do you want to do?”
Five hundred guests.
My father.
Preston.
Chloe.
The ruined dress beneath Roman's coat.
Everyone waited.
For eighteen months, every decision had been made by somebody else.
I pulled the engagement ring from my finger.
Preston's expression hardened.
“Don't.”
I looked at him.
Then placed the ring on the altar.
“No.”
One word.
May you like
Mine.
Finally.
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