Abbott and Jones. Preliminary injunction. Clock’s ticking.
The clock was ticking.
My ride would arrive soon.
I went back to Dad’s email searching for anything that would yield a clue to what was happening. I did a search for Abbott and Jones and came up blank. I saw an email with the subject line: Sold.
“What sold?” I muttered.
The email was dated three days ago. I scanned the message. It was from a woman named Ashley at GreenSphere. I recalled that GreenSphere Opportunities was one of the SPACs that held a small percentage of Wade stock. According to the email, Aphrodite Corporation, another small-percentage Wade stockholder, believed that the stock held by Mr. Sherman would soon be available to be acquired.
That wasn’t possible.
Neither Van’s nor my family’s stock would be sold.
Well, I sold mine to Van for a quarter.
It was all symbolic. I couldn’t sell him my stock until it was mine.
Who was behind Aphrodite Corporation?
My thoughts went to the prenuptial agreement. I hadn’t read it—not thoroughly.
Van couldn’t tell anyone about our sale if he was incapacitated.
What did this mean?
Was Van using this opportunity to benefit from the stock?
No.
I refused to believe that.
Stuffing the crinkled paper into my purse, I made a few more notes, writing down the email address for Ashley at GreenSphere. I scanned the rest of Dad’s emails regarding Wade Pharmaceutical, wondering if I would have copies sent to my email. There was a communication between Wade and the bank. The documents were too long for me to read.
Could I risk sending them to myself?
If Dad saw he’d know.
If I didn’t, would I be told what the documents contain?
Choosing to forward the information, I hit send. While I wasn’t sure what was happening with these bits and pieces of information, something wasn’t sitting right with me.
My phone buzzed—a text telling me that my ride was here.
Slipping into my winter coat, I placed my phone in my purse and turned off the light on Dad’s desk. The monitors glowed in the dark as I peered back at the desk, closing the door.
“What is happening?” I whispered to no one.
The house was dark and quiet as I made my way to the front door. I was almost there when the front door opened inward.
“Arnold,” I said in surprise as I took a step back.
Pink covered his cheeks from the outside cold. His thin lips closed as he rubbed his gloved hands together. “Miss McGrath. You can’t leave alone.”
“I have to, Arnold. I have to get to Van. Something isn’t right.”
“I told your ride to leave.”