Chapter 24 Whiskey, golf and deals
"THIRD PERSON'S POV.
“Mr Gregory,”One of the servers at the golf club stood beside Horace, slightly bending, “there’s someone at the reception here to see you. He says he’s your lawyer.”
“Ah, yes.” Horace rises from his seat, already dismissing the man with a flick of his hand. “Bring him to the members’ lounge.”
The server nods and turns to leave, but Horace’s voice stops him again.
“And call my daughter,” he adds without looking up. “Tell her… it’s time.”
“Of course sir.”
The members’ lounge was the most exclusive room in the clubhouse, quiet, polished, and elitist. Velvet chairs lined the space with perfection and the air smelled of old money and aged whiskey. It was a place where only certain last names belonged.
Horace sat on the chairs at the furthest corner, making sure nobody was at ear shot.
The lawyer walked in first dressed in a polo shirt and sharply ironed dress pants.
“Did you get the photo I sent you?” Horace asked, immediately the lawyer got close enough.
“Horace, you are not even going to invite me to sit?” The lawyer asked half kidding.
“Sit,” he waited for the lawyer to settle into the chair and continued, “so did you get the picture?”
“Yes I d…”
“And what does it say?” Horace cut in.
Clara walking in caused the two men to pause. When she reached them she smiled politely.
“Don’t ever keep me waiting again child.” Horace whispered firmly, his voice cold.
Clara froze, unsure if to give an excuse or let the moment pass. She decided on the latter.
“Go on Alfred.” Horace urged the lawyer.
Alfred cleared his throat, the weight of the file in his hands heavy.
“You were right to suspect your father-in-law,” he began.
“He did, in fact, change his will and in the new will… your time as CEO of Gregory Empire is very limited.”
He paused, studying both faces.
Horace’s jaw twitched, the impatience in his eyes razor-sharp.
Clara only frowned, struggling to process. “Wha… what does that mean?”
Alfred set the folder down.
“It means your grandfather transferred eighty percent of his personal shares to your younger sister, Serena. The remaining twenty percent goes to you, Clara and because Serena’s original shares were already higher than yours, this officially makes her the rightful CEO of the company.”
Clara went white. The pain in her eyes sharpened into disbelief, then something darker.
“Twenty percent?” she whispered. “While Serena gets eighty?”
Her mind raced. All her plans with Jonathan, every calculated step had depended on stripping Serena of her original shares so Jonathan could claim them through marriage.
She had never imagined her grandfather would give Serena nearly everything else as well.
The realization hit her like a car, bitter and humiliating.
“What am I supposed to do with twenty percent?” Clara’s voice cracked, fury seeping out. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“Shut up, Clara, and let him finish.”
Horace’s fingers tapped loudly against the arm of his chair, each tap a warning, each one betraying the rage simmering beneath his polished exterior.
“The estate is in Serena’s name and the vacation house in Santa Varela has been transferred to Clara’s na…”
“Alfred, I didn’t call you here to tell me all of that. What did he leave to me?”
Alfred turned to Horace, “He didn’t leave you anything Horace, you still get to keep the shares you currently have. And you are to control the company until Serena gets married and then you hand over the reins to her. If either Serena or Clara die under suspicious circumstances before they can claim their Inheritance it all goes to Charity.”
“That sneaky bastard. No wonder Serena has been walking around here with her shoulders raised high. Someone must have informed her of the will.” Horace stood from his seat in an attempt to contain his anger.
“There has to be a way around it.” He was pacing now, “tell me there’s a loophole somewhere in that damn will Alfred.”
“There is,” Alfred said looking at Clara, “but only if your daughter agrees.”
Horace stopped pacing. “Well out with it.”
“There’s a loophole in the will,” Alfred said. “Serena has to be married before she can take her shares. Until she marries, those shares are frozen. She can’t use them, she can’t vote with them, and she can’t run the company.”
Horace’s tapping slowed.
“But if Clara marries first,” Alfred continued, “you can use that. You can go to the board and argue that Clara is older, more stable, and already settled with a husband. Boards like stability. They’ll listen.”
Clara’s eyes widened as the idea clicked.
“You can then ask the board to let Clara and her husband handle Serena’s frozen voting rights temporarily just until Serena gets married.”
He paused.
“But once Clara is in control… it’ll be almost impossible for Serena to take it back.”
Horace’s expression turned cold.
“And if Clara controls the company,” Alfred finished quietly, “then you control the company.”
A simple plan. A dangerous plan.
Exactly the kind of loophole Charles never expected Horace to exploit but exactly the kind Horace would.
Clara smiled, about to speak
But Alfred went on, his voice turning lower. “And if that doesn’t work…”
Horace didn’t blink. “Speak.” His voice was barely a whisper, quiet enough to make the room go colder.
Alfred hesitated only a moment.
“The will has one more clause. If either sister dies under suspicious circumstances, the inheritance goes to charity. But what the will failed to say is that if Serena dies of… normal causes, then her shares go to the man in charge of the family. Which would be you.”he said pointing at Horace.
The colour drained from Clara’s face.
She hated Serena,but not like that. Not enough to imagine her dead. She turned to Horace, waiting for the outrage, the disgust, anything that showed he had limits.
Instead, Horace sat perfectly still.
Thinking.
Plotting.
A faint smile spread across his mouth.
Clara’s stomach twisted. She had to speak, she had to take the conversation back, she had to save her sister. “I… I have a way to make the first plan work.” She said quickly. “I already had a plan with Jonathan, Serena’s boyfriend. He was only dating her because I asked him to. We were going to take her original shares. But now we don’t need her at all. Jonathan and I can get married. Once we’re married, we can contest the will together just like Alfred said.”
She looked around eagerly, hoping for approval.
None came.
Desperate, she added, “I mean, let’s be honest, Serena is never going to find a billionaire to marry her in a year.”
Horace’s eyes locked on hers.
“How soon can you and this Jonathan fella get married?”
“We can marry today, Father,” Clara answered, her voice trembling.
“And how will we divide the shares?” Horace asked, watching her closely.
Clara swallowed. “You will take the controlling shares, Father. And Jonathan and I will split whatever is left.”
Horace nodded, finally satisfied. “Good.”
A thin smile crossed his face.
“You and Jonathan will marry a day after Charles’s funeral.”
Clara swallowed, relief washing over her. “Won’t people question the timing?”
“They will,” Horace said calmly, turning toward the window. “But none will dare say it out loud.”
He stared down at the manicured lawns, hands clasped behind his back.
“As for Serena…”
A smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
“She won’t even see it coming.”
“Alfred, draw up the marriage certificate.”
“Okay, then.” Horace said packing his bags to leave.
Clara whipped out her phone, fingers trembling.
Clara: ARE YOU READY TO SAY I DO?
The typing bubbles appeared.
Moved.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Her grip tightened around the phone.
Waiting.