When Duke first saw that provision, he had been displeased. I'd coaxed and soothed him, explaining it away with a single line: "You're the legal representative, and I'm not asking for shares." Only then did he let it go.
Now, Duke's face drained of color. His fingers gripped the documents so hard his knuckles went white.
After a long silence, he forced out through a stiff jaw:
"Gertrude, all you did was provide the capital. I'm the one who built EmpireStar these past years. I can pay you back three times—five times—what you invested. But I'm the legal representative of this company."
I let out a soft laugh, dripping with contempt.
"And what does that make you? Nothing but hired help."
"If someone gives you a calf, and three years later you've raised it into a full-grown bull—do you really think you can hand back a calf and call it even? What world do you live in?"
Uncle Victor stepped forward at exactly the right moment, reciting the relevant corporate law.
An investor is entitled to equity corresponding to their capital contribution.
Duke stood frozen, his eyes darting rapidly as his mind raced. Then, suddenly, he looked up at me, a desperate plea creeping into his gaze.
"Gertrude, we've been married for thirty years. Why does it have to come to this?"
"If you're unwilling... after Stacy gives birth, I can give her a sum of money and send her overseas. I'll never see her again."
"We can raise the child as our own. We'll nurture him well, and he'll take care of us in our old age. EmpireStar will have an heir."
I burst out laughing—laughed until tears streamed down my face.
After everything, did he still not know the truth?
I turned and pulled a medical certificate from my bag.
"Duke, if you want to play the fool and raise some other man's bastard, that's your business. I'm not nearly so generous."
"You should ask Stacy whose child she's actually carrying."
