Chapter 7
Rafe found the seven elders.
Malcolm had been right.
Patrick.
Malcolm.
Richard Costello.
Eamon Price.
Victor Hale.
Samuel Cross.
And Declan.
Seven.
Enough to trigger the old charter review.
Except the charter had one requirement Malcolm conveniently ignored.
A review could only be demanded if the sitting head had hidden a condition that threatened organizational continuity.
They needed evidence.
Not just a falling child.
Something documented.
I looked at Rafe.
“What evidence?”
He slid a folder across the table.
Medical records.
Fake.
Finn.
My blood went cold.
The documents claimed chronic balance problems.
Repeated falls.
Neurological evaluation recommended.
All false.
“How?”
Private physician signature forged.
Family seal copied.
And one real detail inserted to make it credible.
Finn had fallen off a low porch six months earlier.
Normal toddler accident.
Someone turned it into a pattern.
I looked at Rafe.
“Who made these?”
“Samuel Cross.”
One of the seven elders.
Retired physician.
There.
The plan was larger than humiliation.
They intended to create a file suggesting my son had ongoing health problems.
Then the climbing incident would appear as confirmation.
Finn’s weakness becomes official-looking truth.
Mara’s maternal distraction becomes inevitable.
Declan becomes stability.
Elegant.
Disgusting.
I brought Samuel in.
He denied it for eight minutes.
Then I showed him the forged signature.
He stopped.
“Malcolm said nobody would ever use them outside family.”
I almost laughed.
As though fraud becomes harmless when relatives are the audience.
“Why do this?”
Samuel sighed.
“You’re ending everything we understand.”
Again.
Not money.
Not survival.
Change.
I asked:
“What happens if Declan becomes head?”
Samuel looked toward the window.
“The old balance returns.”
“What balance?”
“Elders advise.”
“Meaning?”
“You listen.”
I leaned forward.
“That’s what this is about.”
They did not want Declan because he was stronger.
They wanted him because he was more governable.
I had become too difficult to steer.
Finn was simply the excuse.
Samuel looked ashamed.
Then whispered:
“Declan knows that.”
I stared.
May you like
My brother was not trying to become boss.
He was volunteering to become the elders’ door back into power.
