Chapter 6 - THE PROXY BRENDAN NEVER MENTIONEDThe continuity proxy was in the black folio.
Different document.
Nine pages.
Drafted by Brendan’s personal attorney.
It would have granted Brendan authority to vote my Morrison Global shares on a limited set of matters if I became:
hospitalized for more than seventy-two hours,
medically unable to attend a meeting,
or unavailable during childbirth and immediate recovery.
Duration:
up to ninety days.
Revocable.
In theory.
“Why would I ever sign this?”
Brendan sat across from me with both our attorneys present.
“Because you’re having my child.”
“That does not answer the question.”
“You could have complications.”
“My board succession plan covers complications.”
“I’m the baby’s father.”
“You are not Alden Ridge.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m trying to protect continuity.”
“No. You’re trying to vote sixty-two percent of Morrison Global.”
“Temporarily.”
“Why?”
He looked away.
I knew.
“North Harbor.”
He said nothing.
If I signed the proxy and then went into labor or had a medically defined incapacity, Brendan could potentially vote my block within the document’s scope.
The draft included:
related-party logistics agreements,
temporary executive appointments,
capital allocations tied to freight continuity.
It was practically written around North Harbor.
My attorney, Rachel Kim, looked at Brendan’s counsel.
“Who proposed this?”
His lawyer answered carefully.
“Brendan requested options for temporary shareholder continuity.”
“Did Cassidy’s counsel participate?”
“No.”
“Did the independent board?”
“No.”
“Was the lender shown this draft?”
Brendan closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
That was the real problem.
Harbor Crest had been told the draft was expected to be executed.
My future signature had become part of their underwriting model.
I wanted to scream.
Instead:
“When were you going to ask me?”
“Sunday.”
“Before or after dessert?”
He looked at me.
“I didn’t know Mom would attack you.”
“I believe you.”
That seemed to surprise him.
Then I continued:
“But you did know twelve relatives would be watching while you asked a pregnant woman to sign a nine-page voting proxy.”
He had no answer.
That was manipulation even without ice water.
He eventually said:
“I thought you’d understand why I needed it.”
“Needed what?”
“One chance to build something without you controlling every outcome.”
That sentence finally reached the human part beneath the corporate mess.
“I do not control your life, Brendan.”
“You control Morrison.”
“I own shares.”
“Exactly.”
“My owning shares is not an attack on you.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You don’t know what it feels like to walk into a building with your last name on it and know your ex-wife can remove you.”
“I didn’t remove you.”
“The board suspended me because you called Arthur.”
“After your mother assaulted me and we discovered you were trying to move forty million dollars into your private deal.”
His eyes filled.
“I wanted something of my own.”
“Then build it with your own money.”
Silence.
That was the line.
Not:
You cannot own North Harbor.
Not:
You cannot succeed.
You cannot make Morrison Global finance your independence from Morrison Global.
Brendan finally understood the contradiction.
At least for a moment.
Then Rachel asked:
“Who told Harbor Crest Cassidy would probably sign?”
Brendan answered:
“My mother.”
I looked up.
“Why would the lender care what Diane thinks?”
Another pause.
Because Diane had represented herself to Harbor Crest as:
Senior family adviser to the Morrison controlling group.
Controlling group.
The family had been telling outsiders they collectively controlled Morrison Global.
May you like
My sixty-two percent had not merely been misunderstood at dinner.
Their financing rested on a representation that was mathematically impossible.
Related Stories
