“Then send them to me.”
“Once we land.”
“Now.”
James's eyes moved briefly toward the rear of the cabin.
It was a small movement.
Almost invisible.
But Martin saw it.
So did Eleanor.
Victoria noticed the pause.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“James.”
He closed his laptop.
“I think we're all tired. We can review the remaining documentation in New York.”
Victoria placed the appendix on the table.
“No one is signing anything until I see the ownership records.”
James nodded.
“Of course.”
But his voice no longer carried the confidence it had at the beginning of the meeting.
The confrontation in the aisle began less than ten minutes later.
Victoria had gone to the rear lounge to make a call. Eleanor followed her.
“Don't,” Victoria said without turning.
“I need to tell you something.”
“You have already told me what you think of James.”
“It's not about what I think.”
“Then what?”
Eleanor took a breath.
“Your father used the same structure.”
Victoria turned.
“Stop bringing him into this.”
“He transferred company money through an intermediary, then arranged for the documents to make it look as though I had approved the transfers.”
“You were accused because the board found evidence.”
“Evidence that had been altered.”
“Convenient.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“You always know how it sounds. You always have an explanation.”
Eleanor's voice trembled.
“I was your mother before I was the chief executive. I would never have risked your future for money.”
Victoria stepped closer.
“You risked my childhood when you walked out.”
“I know.”
“You left me with a father who was dying, a company in chaos, and a thousand people asking what my mother had done.”
“I know.”
“You weren't there when he died.”
Eleanor's eyes filled.
“I tried to come.”
“Don't.”
“I called.”
“Don't.”
“I wrote to you.”
Victoria's voice broke.
“I never received your letters.”
Eleanor went still.
“What?”
“I said I never received them.”
For a moment, the anger between them faltered.
Then Victoria shook her head.
“Even if that's true, you still left.”
“I believed your father would hurt you if I stayed.”
“You don't get to decide that for me.”
“No,” Eleanor whispered. “I don't.”
Victoria's breathing became uneven.
She looked at the older woman, at the lines around her eyes, at the faint tremor in her hands. She had imagined this confrontation for years. In every version, Eleanor had apologized, explained herself, and begged for forgiveness.
But the real woman standing in front of her looked less like a villain than someone who had carried a terrible weight for too long.
That made Victoria even angrier.
Because if Eleanor was not the person she had believed, then the foundation of her entire life was beginning to crack.
“You should have fought harder,” Victoria said.
“I did.”
“You should have come back.”
“I tried.”
“You should have chosen me.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“I did choose you.”
Victoria's hand moved before she had fully decided what she was doing.
The slap landed across Eleanor's cheek.
James and Martin rushed into the aisle.
Victoria stood frozen, her hand raised.
Eleanor slowly touched her face.
The pain was sharp, but it was nothing compared with the expression on her daughter's face.
Victoria looked horrified by her own action.
Then pride and anger rushed in to cover the shock.
“You shouldn't have pushed me.”
Eleanor lowered her hand.
“I won't touch you,” she said softly. “And I won't force you to forgive me.”
Victoria's eyes glistened.
“Then leave me alone.”
Eleanor stepped back.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Martin moved between them.
“This ends now.”
Victoria looked at him.
“Don't tell me what to do.”
“I am not speaking as your adviser. I am speaking as someone who watched your father turn a family into a weapon.”
James tried to intervene.
“Martin, that's enough.”
Martin ignored him.
“Victoria, there is something you must understand. Your mother did not disappear because she stopped loving you. She disappeared because your father had made it impossible for her to remain without putting you in the middle of his crimes.”
Victoria stared at him.
“What crimes?”
Martin opened the black folder he had carried aboard.
“Financial fraud. Forgery. Money laundering. And the deliberate destruction of your mother's reputation.”
He removed a document and held it out.
“This is an original transfer instruction from twenty years ago. It was recovered from an external archive last month. It contains the authorization code used to move the first payment to Northbridge.”