Chapter 4
"In my briefcase!" Albright wailed, his knees bowing under Oswin’s terrifying proximity. "In the trunk of my Mercedes by the gatehouse! I swear to God, Oswin, I didn't draft the commitment petition! Leopoldine’s brother gave me the files from the state department!"
"Julian?" Oswin turned his head slightly.
From the shade of the garden pavilion, a tall man in a midnight-blue tuxedo stepped into the light. Julian Croft, thirty-nine, the legal architect of the Croft family syndicate, set his bourbon glass down on a stone balustrade.
"Let the doctor go, Oswin," Julian said, his American accent smooth, carrying the dry, unhurried cadence of an appellate court judge. "He was acting on my legal counsel."
"Your counsel," Oswin said.
"The Marlowe-Croft merger involves three hundred million dollars in municipal bonds," Julian said, strolling toward the center of the terrace with his hands in his pockets. "The state gaming commission refuses to issue the deep-water casino licenses if the primary license holder has a domestic environment deemed 'unstable' by child welfare services. We conducted an audit. Celia’s maternal lineage carries a certified history of severe depressive psychosis. Her presence in the main house was a red flag for the regulators."
"You audited my dead wife's medical records?" Oswin asked, his voice chillingly calm.
"I protected our investment," Julian countered, stopping five paces from Oswin. "Leopoldine was doing what any responsible corporate partner would do. She sanitized the asset. You should be thanking her for handling the paperwork so you didn't have to dirty your hands."
Celia buried her face into Oswin’s hip, trembling. "Daddy, don't let the blue man take me."
"Nobody is taking you, baby," Oswin whispered.
He looked at Julian Croft. "You think three hundred million dollars buys you the right to touch my daughter, Julian?"
"I think money buys reality, Oswin," Julian replied, a thin, arrogant smirk touching his lips. "You might be the king of the loading docks, but this is corporate equity. We have three federal judges on our payroll who signed off on that commitment order an hour ago. As of noon today, Celia is legally a ward of the state pending transfer to the Vermont clinic. If you interfere, you violate a federal injunction."
"Is that right?" Oswin asked.
"That's right," Julian said, tapping his breast pocket. "The marshals are already parked at the bottom of your driveway. They're waiting for my signal to execute the custody writ."
Leopoldine let out a ragged, triumphant breath from beside the gift table. "You see, Oswin? It's done. Take the girl to the car yourself, or let the marshals drag her through the front lawn in front of your friends. Either way, Clarissa gets the room, and this wedding proceeds on our terms."
Oswin reached into his tailored dinner jacket.
Several guests gasped, diving behind tables, expecting a heavy automatic pistol.
Instead, Oswin pulled out a slim, gold-plated fountain pen and a folded piece of gray stationery.
"You forgot one detail, Julian," Oswin said, holding the paper aloft.
Julian’s smirk tightened. "What detail?"
"The port authority doesn't own the deep-water berths," Oswin said. "The land belongs to a private family land trust established by my grandfather in 1948. And do you know who the sole beneficiary of that trust is?"
May you like
Julian didn't answer. His eyes flicked to Celia.
"Celia Marlowe," Oswin said. "If my daughter is declared legally incompetent or removed from this estate, the trust automatically dissolves. The berths revert to municipal parkland. Your three hundred million in casino bonds becomes wallpaper by five o'clock."
