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At the end of the so-called proceedings, Birdie walked out of the room accused of falsifying revenue projections and year-end results for the past several years, and bribing city officials to ensure contracts were funneled her direction.
She walked out of the final proceedings in a daze, coerced into forfeiting equity awards, having to pay back incentive disbursements, and losing all severance benefits. All in return for the board refraining from contacting the authorities.
Lastly, and this one was the real kicker to her lady bits, she was forced to sell her vested stock back to the company at a ridiculously punitive rate.
She’d lost her company. Everything she had worked so hard for over the last several years.
At the time she thought about starting over. Building a new company. She had done it once, she could do it again. She still owned the shares from Marshall’s construction company, in addition to several highly valuable properties he bequeathed her.
Unfortunately, things continued to go downhill.
More fabricated misdeeds were reported and readily accepted by her peers. The alleged and unsavory details littered throughout the local news outlets making it all but impossible for her to ever conduct business again within the state of Massachusetts.
According to Errol and Flynn, her company was a ruse. Claiming it a shell for their father to launder money through.
Another outright lie.
That wasn’t to say Marshall hadn’t helped her. He had provided the start-up money as well as a list of contacts open to meeting with her. As a favor to him.
Basically, he was her principal investor who helped her get her foot in the doors of some very influential people. Beyond that, she had been on her own, and to her credit, she had paid him back in under three years, with interest. She had insisted. Having earned a sterling reputation for integrity and honesty, just like Marshall had over his career and lifetime.
All taken away from her, her reputation as well as Marshall’s, in less than a month of Marshall’s passing.
Today must have been the last calculated step of what had to have been a highly strategized coup to bring Birdie to utter ruin, both financially and personally.
For today, the twins were threatening to fight for her daughter’s disturbingly small inheritance. That is, unless Birdie agreed to quietly walk away from hers.
So, basically, they wanted it all.
Blinking her eyes repeatedly, she knew she needed to gain some semblance of control as this drawn-out annihilation of her future was beginning to wear her down. It was time to get this farce moving along.
Stiffening her spine, she said, “So, let’s put the alleged addiction to the side for a moment and get back to Marshall’s will and testament. What exactly are you implying? That a court of law would find that fraud or undue influence had been involved in the creation of the Will?” Birdie was tired of lawyer-speak and beating around the bush.
“Only where you’re concerned,” Errol murmured.
Braniff replied, “We have come across a prenup that both you and Mr. Shepherd signed, which contradicts his Will.”
“A prenup?” That was news to her. She had never signed one.
“It calls into question a change to the existing Will that was created and signed after Mr. Shepherd became ill and barely sentient.” He laid one hand over the other, holding on to a thick Mont Blanc pen as if it were a lucky rabbit’s foot. “You’re a smart woman, I’m sure it comes to no surprise why the recent decision to disinherit his sons, his rightful heirs, leaving you and your daughter the entirety of his estate and business assets, would be called into question.”
He pushed a piece of paper toward her, using his pricey pen as a pointer. “If you would just sign here. We can avoid the drama of a lengthy and expensive court battle. I’m sure the last thing you want is to put your daughter through something so traumatizing.”
Birdie sniffed with contempt.
As if he cared one whit about Mia.
“You’re a piece of work. You know that, Braniff?”
There was no last-minute Will. It was an absurd claim. Easily refuted, if Mr. Braniff hadn’t succumbed to Errol’s and Flynn’s bribery. And if Mr. Babcock, Braniff’s partner, wasn’t mysteriously unavailable for comment.
Then again, it wouldn’t surprise her if Mr. Babcock was found floating facedown in the Charles River.
She took a sip of water from the fancy crystal glass, thinking this might be a good day to fall off the wagon, as she stared daggers at Braniff. The same attorney who knew this meeting and these claims were a total sham.
The dark room covered with high-gloss wood paneling, outdated wallpaper, and a never-ending series of sheep horns was beginning to weigh her down. Maybe all of those sheep with anger issues was a premeditated design decision to make their victims feel judged, repudiated and without options.
Blinking and swallowing convulsively, she did her best to refrain from any emotional response in front of the three men, each salivating over her impending signature for different reasons.
