How to Tame a Silver Fox – Episode 51
Chris took the documents from Mark without releasing Harper’s hand. The first agreement transferred his shares in Reeves-Collins Holdings to the board. The second required him to end all personal contact with Harper in exchange for the board’s cooperation with prosecutors.
“They’re buying testimony with my life,” Chris said. His voice remained level, but Harper felt the tension travel through his fingers.
Mark explained that the board feared Chris’s indictment would destroy the company’s banking relationships. Several directors had offered statements supporting his cooperation against Sloane, but only if he surrendered control and removed the scandal surrounding Harper.
“My relationship is not a corporate asset,” Harper said. The clause reduced her to a liability men could negotiate away.
Chris read the final page. The deadline expired at midnight, leaving less than an hour for legal review. The pressure had been designed to prevent questions.
Mark admitted his attorneys had verified the offer. They believed signing gave Chris the fastest path to clearing the remaining charges.
“Fastest isn’t the same as clean,” Harper replied. Cross had built his power by offering convenient solutions that required silence.
Chris tore the personal agreement in half. “I’ll discuss my shares. Nobody gets a vote on Harper.”
Relief warmed her before concern replaced it. Giving up the company would mean losing the legitimate business Chris built after leaving Sloane, along with years of work that helped redefine him.
“You don’t have to sacrifice everything to prove you choose me,” she said.
“I’m not proving anything.” Chris folded the share agreement and returned it unsigned. “I’m refusing to let them use you as the price.”
A black sedan stopped across the street. The board’s attorney, Richard Caldwell, stepped out and approached them with a second copy of the papers.
Caldwell treated Harper with polished sympathy. He claimed the clause protected her from accusations that she influenced Chris’s corporate decisions.
“Then write a conflict policy,” Harper said. “Not an order controlling who I see.”
The attorney’s smile thinned. He reminded Chris that prosecutors could revive every charge before morning if the supporting directors withdrew.
Mark asked for forty-eight hours. Caldwell refused, saying the board would vote at midnight whether Chris attended or not.
Harper noticed Caroline’s name in a footnote defining the company’s founding trust. Her mother had held a veto over any involuntary transfer between the two founding partners.
Caldwell closed the document before Harper could read further. The speed of the movement revealed that the footnote mattered.
She took the papers back. “Who inherited my mother’s veto?”
Mark looked away, and Harper understood another truth had been kept from her. “You did,” he admitted. “On your twenty-second birthday.”