Part 12
“Perhaps.”
Nathan felt something ugly rise in him. “You don’t get to rename her because you are angry with me.”
Celia turned. “I get to reconsider a name we chose together if I no longer know what together means.”
The lift doors opened.
An elderly couple stepped out. The woman smiled at Celia’s belly and said, “Not long now.”
Celia smiled back automatically.
Inside the lift, Nathan pressed the ground-floor button.
“I am not defending my father,” he said.
“You are delaying judgment.”
“Because evidence matters.”
“So does direction.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can wait while you learn facts. I cannot wait forever while you decide which version of yourself costs least.”
Nathan looked at their reflections in the mirrored wall.
“What do you think I should do?”
“I will not choose for you.”
“Convenient.”
“No. Necessary.”
The doors opened.
Celia walked out.
The report found that Richard and Edmund had diverted £3.86 million from the Wren trust through four companies over nine years. Approximately £430,000 had been repaid. Interest and professional costs could raise the estate’s exposure above £5 million.
Beatrice had signed documents connected to two companies but there was no evidence she understood the source of the funds before Richard’s disclosure shortly before his death.
Edmund had prepared false board minutes, witnessed questionable signatures, and misled auditors. He admitted all of it.
The estate could not repay the claim without major asset sales.
The manor itself was valued high enough to satisfy the debt, but only if sold with a significant portion of the surrounding land. Selling the south farms alone would leave the estate company unable to support the house. Selling art and investments would reduce the debt but not remove it.
The lawyers presented three broad choices.
The first was litigation. Celia could sue the estate, Edmund, and associated insurers. The process might last years.
The second was a private settlement funded by Celia, effectively exchanging the trust claim for ownership or security over estate assets.
The third was voluntary disclosure, negotiated repayment, regulatory reports, and an orderly sale of property.
Nathan listened without interrupting.
Beatrice did not.
“You are discussing this house as though it is a failed shop,” she said.
The solicitor, a woman named Helen Ward, folded her hands. “I am discussing assets available to meet liabilities.”
“My husband’s family has lived here for two hundred years.”
“That history does not reduce the liability.”
“It should affect what you consider reasonable.”
“My role is not to assign emotional value.”
“Then you are poorly qualified to advise us.”
Nathan said, “Mother.”
Helen remained calm. “You are welcome to obtain different advice.”
Beatrice turned toward Celia, who sat across the table.
“You could stop this.”
Celia’s face gave nothing away. “I could choose a private settlement.”
“Then choose it.”
Nathan looked at his mother. “You are asking her to use her own money to cover Father’s theft.”
“I am asking her to protect the home of the man she claims to love.”
Celia inhaled slowly.
Nathan waited for her to answer, but she looked at him instead.
Beatrice followed her gaze.
“There,” she said. “That is what this has always been. A test for Nathan. The rest of us are scenery.”
Sophie pushed her chair back. “Can we not do this?”
Beatrice ignored her. “Celia has enough money to make this disappear without changing her life.”
“My life has already changed,” Celia said.
“You still have your flat, your investments, your company shares.”
“And a dead mother whose trust was stolen.”
Beatrice’s mouth tightened. “Margaret would not have wanted families thrown from their homes.”
“You did not know my mother.”
“I met her.”
“Twice.”
“She was practical.”
“She was generous. Those are not the same thing.”
Nathan watched Celia’s fingers curl beneath the table.
Beatrice said, “What do you want? An apology from a dead man? Edmund in prison? Our name dragged through every newspaper?”
“I wanted the truth before I agreed to join this family.”
“You had the truth for six weeks and joined us anyway.”
Celia went quiet.
Beatrice turned to Nathan. “Ask her. Ask what she demanded from Edmund before she came to dinner.”
Nathan looked at Celia.
“What is she talking about?”
Celia’s face changed slightly.
Beatrice smiled.
Edmund, seated beside his solicitor, looked down.
Nathan’s stomach tightened. “Celia?”
She took a breath.
“I asked Edmund whether he would support a transfer of the manor into a family trust controlled by you and me if I settled the claim.”
Sophie stared at her.
Nathan said, “When?”
“At the greenhouse.”
“You told me Edmund did not suggest the settlement.”
“He didn’t.”
“You did.”
“Yes.”
“And control of the manor was part of it.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice leaned back.
The room held the satisfaction of a trap closing.
Nathan looked at Celia. “You planned to take control of my family’s home.”
“I planned to secure the money I would use to save it.”
“Without telling me.”
“I was exploring an option.”
“With Edmund.”
“I needed to know whether the trustees could approve it.”
“Edmund was not a trustee.”
“He advised them for years.”
“He was also covering up fraud.”
“I knew that.”
Nathan stared at her.
Celia’s eyes filled, though no tears fell.
“I was trying to build a solution before I gave you a disaster,” she said.
“You were building leverage.”
“Yes.”
The honesty landed harder than denial.
She looked around the table.
“Yes,” she repeated. “I wanted legal control sufficient to stop this family treating my money as a gift that proved my loyalty. I wanted protection if Nathan changed his mind after the debt vanished. I wanted our daughter to inherit something that could not be taken apart by another secret decision. Call that leverage if you like. It was.”
Nathan stood.
May you like
Helen said his name, but he barely heard her.
He left the room and walked through the house without deciding where to go. He passed portraits, furniture covered for repair, a tray of untouched tea. At the front doors, he took the first coat from the rack and went outside.
