Charles had never asked why three major banks approved emergency credit for his failing company within seventy-two hours.
He’d never asked who truly owned Northbridge Capital, the private investment firm hidden behind six holding companies.
And he’d never wondered why my mother wore an old gray dress even though she had enough money to buy the entire Whitmore estate.
I helped her into the passenger seat and closed the door.
Then I called my attorney.
« Rebecca, » I said, watching Vanessa tear off her veil in fury, « release the documents. »
PART 2
I need to tell you who my mother actually is, because the woman Vanessa hosed down in front of two hundred people was one of the wealthiest women in the country.
My father died when I was nineteen. He’d built a modest but brilliant investment company, and my mother — whom everyone assumed was just his quiet wife — turned out to be the sharper of the two.
She took his company and, over fifteen years, quietly, without ever once seeking attention, grew it into Northbridge Capital, a private investment firm that operates almost invisibly, hidden behind holding companies, exactly the way she likes it.
