logs.
A qualified forensic examiner will need to authenticate the findings.”
Naomi turned to the second folder.
“Now the patent transfer.”
There was a document claiming that I had assigned the flood-monitoring technology to Voss Coastal six weeks earlier.
The signature looked convincing.
But I had never seen the document.
Daniel pointed to the notarization.
“According to this acknowledgment, Mrs.
Voss appeared before a commissioned notary and signed it in person.”
The name beneath the stamp was Bianca Shaw.
I felt the room grow strangely quiet.
Graham hadn’t merely planned to leave me.
He had apparently planned to take my technology, destroy my credibility, and sell the work my mother had inspired.
At 8:41, Harbor Meridian’s outside attorney arrived for the scheduled verification meeting.
His name was Philip Grant.
He looked troubled when Naomi explained the dispute.
“We received representations that Voss Coastal owns the patent outright,” he said.
“Our client was told the assignment was complete.”
“It isn’t,” I replied.
“I never signed those papers.”
He opened his binder.
“Mrs.
Voss, then someone has potentially committed fraud.”
Naomi handed him the original license agreement and a certified copy of North Quay’s ownership records.
Philip studied them carefully.
“Does your client know who controls North Quay?” Naomi asked.
“He knows that North Quay is the majority shareholder of Voss Coastal.”
“Then I suggest we clarify the identity of its beneficial owner before anyone signs another document.”
I removed my glasses.
“My name is Lena Arden Voss.
I established North Quay Capital.
I control its voting interests, and the patent belongs to one of its subsidiaries.”
Philip looked from me to Naomi.
“Graham Voss’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“The woman he claims is under investigation for embezzlement?”
“An allegation supported by a disputed authorization,” Naomi replied.
“We have serious evidence suggesting the payment benefited a company connected to his adviser.”
Philip closed the binder.
“The closing is suspended.
Our client will not proceed while the chain of title is disputed.”
At 8:53, Graham arrived at North Quay’s building.
He was accompanied by Bianca and Marjorie.
Apparently, someone at the bank had finally told him which company controlled his revolving credit facility.
What nobody had told him yet was who stood behind it.
The receptionist called Naomi from downstairs.
“Mr.
Voss says this is an emergency.
He wants to see whoever owns North Quay.”
I looked at Naomi.
“Bring them upstairs.”
When the elevator doors opened, Graham emerged first, carrying a leather briefcase.
Bianca followed, visibly irritated.
Marjorie walked behind them, holding her handbag like a weapon.
“Where’s the chairman?” Graham demanded as he entered the conference room.
I was sitting at the far end of the table.
He stopped.
For an instant, confusion crossed his face.
Then contempt returned.
“What are you doing here?”
“Good morning, Graham.”
“This is a private meeting.
Leave.”
Naomi stood beside me.
“Mr.
Voss, Mrs.
Voss is the controlling owner of North Quay Capital.”
Graham stared at her.
Then he laughed.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Naomi placed the certified ownership records on the table.
“North Quay holds sixty-seven percent of the voting shares of Voss Coastal.
Graham Voss holds twenty-three percent.
The employee share trust holds the remaining ten percent.”
Marjorie’s expression changed.
“That’s impossible,” she said.
“My son founded that company.”
“He did,” Naomi replied.
“He also agreed to
