Chapter 13 - The Boy’s Condition
Theo stayed at the conference table. “I want to say something,” he told
the chairwoman.
She glanced at Victor. “This meeting isn’t designed for—”
“For children?” Theo asked. “That’s what everybody says right before
they take something away from us.”
No one interrupted him again.
“My dad taught kids at Southside Chess House for free. Some couldn’t
afford a board, so he drew squares on cardboard. He said a person’s
first chance shouldn’t depend on money. You’re about to sell the
building to people who charge families every month. That would use his
work to hurt the kids he tried to help.”
The Apex representative cleared his throat. “Our platform would reach
far more students.”
“Then why do you need the building?” Theo asked.
The man had no quick answer.
Mara sat beside her son. “We’re not asking you to give us anything.
We’re asking you not to take what Elias created.”
The chairwoman called for an emergency legal review. The sale required a
board certification that the foundation’s intellectual property had been
acquired lawfully. With the restored records now public, signing that
certification could expose the directors to personal liability.
The Apex representative closed his folder. “Our client reserves all
rights.”
“Of course,” Victor said. “But you will not receive a building bought
with stolen work while I’m still chairman.”
A director raised an eyebrow. “You may not be chairman in an hour.”
“Then I’ll resign in an hour. Until then, I can stop the transfer.”
He signed an emergency suspension order. The chairwoman countersigned
it, and the foundation’s counsel sent it to the county recorder and the
company’s escrow agent.
At 11:42, confirmation arrived: the transfer was frozen pending
investigation.
Theo closed his eyes. Mara hugged him so tightly he could barely
breathe.
For the first time since Elias died, one small part of the damage had
been stopped before it spread.
Then a lawyer entered with a phone in his hand.
“Mr. Whitlock,” he said, “Julian has issued a statement accusing you of
fabricating evidence to cover your own misconduct.”
May you like
He turned the screen toward them.
The statement ended with one sentence: My father is the real thief.
