Chapter 65
The intercom buzzed just as Arianne thought about leaving the office early.
She had been looking at a projection she already understood while her fingers rested on the trackpad without moving. The spreadsheet filled her screen, and the cursor sat on a cell she had already checked.
“Ms. Summers?” the receptionist’s voice came through the intercom speaker positioned near the door.
“There’s a courier downstairs. Certified delivery. He says it requires your signature p>
“At this time?” she asked, glancing at the wall clock above the bookshelf.
“Yes p>
“From whom?” Arianne wasn’t expecting to receive any mail recently.
“He didn’t specify p>
She considered declining it until morning.
Then she didn’t.
“Send him up p>
While she waited, she closed the file she had been reviewing and minimized the remaining windows on her screen. The office felt slightly too quiet; the hum of the air conditioning was the only consistent sound.
The courier arrived carrying a slim document case tucked under one arm. He checked her identification before handing over a thick envelope. He waited for her signature on a digital pad, then left without offering conversation. His shoes left faint, damp marks on the polished floor near the entrance. It must have been raining again.
The envelope was heavier than standard correspondence. The paper stock was textured.
She recognized the crest before she fully registered it.
Conway Property Trust.
For a moment, she simply held it.
She had not thought about the Conways in years. That had been deliberate.
She opened it.
The first page contained a formal notice. The second was a certified copy of the trust charter, a section marked in black ink along the right margin.
Upon the passing of Ysabella Conway, the maternal voting beneficiary rights representing 21.4% of outstanding voting shares in Conway Property Trust have been placed in dormant status pending heir acknowledgment.
She read the line twice, slower the second time.
Twenty-one point four percent.
Dormant.
Pending acknowledgment.
Her grandmother’s name appeared further down the page.
Pursuant to Section 8.3 p>
Automatic reinstatement if no renunciation is filed within thirty calendar days of certified notice.
She checked the issuance date printed in the upper right corner.
Four days ago.
So the countdown had begun before she knew it existed.
That irritated her, though she would not have admitted it aloud.
She set the paper down on the desk blotter, then picked it up again almost immediately. The succession restructuring vote was scheduled for Day 28. The renunciation deadline fell on Day 30.
Two days apart.
Not sloppy. Not accidental.
She leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.
If she stepped down before the vote, the maternal block would go away.
If she stayed quiet, reinstatement would happen automatically, with board representation and participation in succession included.
Twenty-one percent was not a mere share. It could block consolidation. It could make alignment more difficult. It could change and influence the negotiation tables.
Her phone lit up on the desk to her left.
A missed call from Franz earlier that evening.
She left it unanswered.
Instead, she dialed legal counsel.
“I need confirmation regarding Section 8.3 under the current charter,” she said once connected.
A pause followed while documents were reviewed on the other end.
“It’s enforceable,” counsel replied. “If no formal renunciation is filed within thirty days of certified notice, reinstatement is automatic p>
“Execution requirements p>
“Must occur within Montclair jurisdiction. Physical appearance before trustee authority or notarized filing acknowledged by the Acting Trustee’s office p>
So they wanted her physically present.
“Thank you p>
She ended the call and opened her calendar.
Day 28 — restructuring vote.
Day 30 — renunciation deadline.
For a brief second, she considered filing immediately. Removing herself from the equation. Returning the block before it complicated anything.
It would be cleaner.
But cleaner did not always mean stronger.
She picked up her phone again.
“Gio p>
“Yes p>
“They triggered Section 8.3 p>
A short silence followed.
“Automatic conversion p>
“Yes p>
“I’m coming over p>
When he arrived, he remained standing beside her desk rather than taking a seat. He read the notice without touching it, scanning the printed dates twice before speaking.
He then made a call for arrangements.
“They want acknowledgment before restructuring,” he said. “The Acting Trustee will receive you at the estate p>
“The estate?” she repeated.
“Yes. Day 27. Ten a.m p>
She allowed a faint, humorless smile.
“Of course it’s the estate p>
Gio watched her carefully.
“That matters to you p>
“Not to me,” Arianne corrected him. “It matters to her p>
He nodded once.
An email notification appeared on her screen while they stood there. Formal letterhead. Appointment confirmation. Conway Estate. No additional commentary attached.
“She didn’t delegate,” Gio said quietly.
“No p>
That unsettled her more than the clause itself. Evelyn Conway rarely acted without layers.
“If you appear at the estate, it won’t remain private,” he said.
“I know p>
“You could renounce before Day 28 and remove yourself from the board entirely p>
“Yes p>
“And avoid this p>
“Possibly p>
He studied her.
“You’re not avoiding it p>
Arianne walked to the window without answering. The city outside was busy as usual. Traffic moved smoothly.
For a moment, she remembered being in that hallway years ago, listening to adults talk as if she wasn’t there. The memory came and went quickly.
“Please prepare a complete report on Conway’s asset concentration,” she said. “Include both current exposure and historical trends p>
“Is this for renunciation analysis p>
“It’s for assessing leverage p>
He sighed.
“If you don’t renounce, the maternal seat will activate p>
“Yes.” She affirmed.
“And if you activate it before restructuring p>
“Then the vote recalibrates p>
He paused.
“She’s testing you p>
“Yes p>
“And you’re going p>
“I’m attending p>
“That’s not the same thing p>
“No p>
Silence lasted a few seconds.
His tablet vibrated, taking his attention immediately.
“There’s already a question,” he said. “Montclair Financial Bulletin. They want to know about maternal heir status before the restructuring p>
“That was faster than I thought p>
“How should we reply p>
“Don’t comment. Refer them to the Trustee’s office p>
He nodded but remained where he was.
“It’s starting,” he said.
“Yes p>
She picked up the envelope again, noticing how ordinary it looked against the dark wood of her desk. Cream paper. Clean seal. No ornamentation beyond the crest.
For a moment—brief and contained—she almost wished they had chosen a different week.
Then she set the envelope down.
“Day 27,” she said. “Ten a.m p>
The restructuring vote would follow the next day.
This time, the sequence was not entirely theirs to control.
She had not yet decided whether that unsettled her—or strengthened her position.