Chapter 4 - THE MONEY I HAD “CHOSEN” TO REINVEST
Robert had an explanation ready.
“You reinvested it.”
We met at Prescott Hospitality’s office in the Seaport.
My father sat at the head of the conference table.
Elaine sat beside him.
Lauren arrived twenty minutes late wearing sunglasses indoors.
Her wedding had been forty-eight hours earlier.
She still looked furious at me for leaving.
“I reinvested six hundred fourteen thousand dollars?”
Dad nodded.
“Into the company.”
“Show me where I authorized it.”
“You knew we weren’t paying cash distributions.”
“That isn’t authorization.”
“Meredith, everyone reinvested.”
Lauren finally spoke.
“Some of us actually care whether the company survives.”
I looked at her.
“Did you receive distributions?”
“That isn’t your business.”
Dad cut in.
“Stop.”
I turned back to him.
“Where did my money go?”
Robert stood.
“Into operations.”
“Specifics.”
“Hotels.”
“Which hotels?”
“This is exactly what I mean. You disappear into your Boston law life, refuse every family obligation, and then arrive demanding an audit.”
“I didn’t disappear.”
Elaine sighed.
“Please don’t start making yourself the victim again.”
That sentence hurt in a strangely familiar way.
The wine.
The wedding.
The stock.
Every confrontation became proof that I was overly sensitive.
I stood.
“Olivia will send a formal records request.”
Lauren laughed.
“You brought a lawyer against Dad?”
“I am a lawyer.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes. Unfortunately.”
The records request went out that afternoon.
I also formally revoked any prior proxy, authorization, or standing direction allowing my father or anyone else to vote or direct my shares.
That was the first choice with real cost.
Bay Atlantic could not close the refinance until ownership consents were clarified.
Robert’s finance team warned that the company had enough liquidity for roughly nine weeks under current projections.
Ethan called me that evening.
“I heard Prescott’s refinance paused.”
“How?”
“Boston is a village with skyscrapers.”
“I’m handling it.”
“I know.”
He hesitated.
“I could provide a bridge loan at market terms.”
“No.”
“I expected that.”
“Then why offer?”
“Because there are employees.”
That was exactly why my father’s argument hurt.
Ethan continued.
“But I also know your family would turn my money into another reason you weren’t allowed to ask questions.”
I sat down.
“Thank you.”
“For offering?”
“For understanding why I’m saying no.”
The company needed to solve its own finances.
If Ethan rescued it, my father would learn nothing except that humiliating the daughter with a billionaire husband remained profitable.
Three days later, Olivia received the first batch of transaction records.
My missing distributions had not all gone into hotels.
Some had.
But one line appeared repeatedly:
LARK EVENTS MEMBER ADVANCE.
Lark Events had been Lauren’s company.
Her luxury-event startup failed four years earlier.
Dad told everyone he personally absorbed the loss.
According to the records, Prescott Hospitality had advanced almost $900,000.
Part of that money came from capital attributed to me.
I called Lauren.
“Did you know Dad used company money to pay Lark’s debts?”
She went silent.
“What are you talking about?”
Her voice did not sound defensive.
It sounded confused.
“Lauren?”
May you like
“Dad told me he paid it himself.”
For the first time since the wedding, my sister sounded afraid.
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