Page 1 of Legal Trouble

CHAPTERONE

“Noah’s decision toacquire Lone-Star Tech was an unmitigated disaster,” Phillip Whitlow bellowed from his square on the right side of the sixty-five-inch flatscreen where Whitlow Group’s board of directors had convened for their weekly video conference. “And because of it, he’s damaged our company’s reputation, and it’s time we face some hard facts.”

“And what hard facts would those be?” Noah Whitlow III asked, standing behind his mahogany desk on the fiftieth floor of Whitlow Tower, the downtown Houston skyscraper that bore his family’s name.

“That you’re not fit to lead Whitlow Group and never will be,” Uncle Phillip answered.

Balling his hands into fists, Noah drew in a deep breath and held it. Usually, Uncle Phillip’s slights only existed in his head; this time, however, Noah shouldered some of the responsibility for this colossal blunder. He’d identified the company causing Whitlow Group unending legal trouble, sought them out, and initiated the buyout. Everything had gone swimmingly—right up until it hadn’t. And now, the court of public opinion was gathering tinder to burn Whitlow Group at the stake.

“Nonsense,” Noah’s aunt, Cathleen Whitlow-Calhoun, said from her square in the center of the screen. “Noah has done a fantastic job running the Houston division of Whitlow Group.”

Phillip jerked his arms as if trying to swat away a pesky fly. “But the Lone-Star Tech mess is—”

“A mess. No one’s disputing that, Phillip.” From his square on the left of the screen, Noah’s father, Noah Whitlow Jr., ran a hand through ginger hair. “And sometimes messes happen in business. None of us could have predicted that one of Lone-Star Tech’s partners would try to pull out of this deal at the eleventh hour.”

“Ethan would have foreseen it, and in fact, he did,” said Phillip.

Beside Noah, his cousin—and Phillip’s only son—Ethan Whitlow, stood taller. Once upon a time, he and Ethan had been fast friends, but these days Ethan was more likely to stab Noah in the back than offer a hand in friendship.

Like father, like son?

Despite Phillips’s grand ambitions for his son, Ethan wasn’t up to running Whitlow Group, either the Houston division or the NYC division—let alone both. Ethan was intelligent, cagey, and dedicated, but he didn’t have the focus and vision to run a company as vast and far-reaching as Whitlow Group. Noah, on the other hand, had been training to run this company since he’d been able to say “takeover.”

“Ethan came to me with his reservations weeks ago,” continued Phillip, “beforeeverything went belly up. If he’d been in charge—”

“He’d have screwed it up just like he did the Green Energy Initiative,” Noah snapped. “If I hadn’t come to his rescue, he’d have landed on his—”

“Hey!” Ethan whirled on Noah. “How dare you accuse me of—”

“What? The truth?” Noah stood toe-to-toe with his cousin. “You screwed up, Ethan. Own it. Your idea was sound and your vision spot-on. You simply fumbled on the way into the end zone. Lucky for you, I recovered the ball and ran it in for the touchdown.”

Ethan’s body stiffened, and Noah would have bet every penny of his vast fortune that his cousin would have decked him without their audience.

“Gentleman!” His father’s voice resonated through the room. “Attacking each other isn’t helping. We’re family, and we need to remember that in trying times like these.” When the room quieted, he continued. “Noah, is everything prepared for court this morning?”

“Yes,Papá. I spoke with David at length yesterday, and he assured me he has everything under control.” David Reynolds, the managing partner of the prestigious Houston law firm Reynolds, Clark & Morgan, had represented Whitlow Group for nearly twenty years.

“Very good,” Cathleen said. “Keep us advised.”

Noah nodded. “Of course.”

Cathleen shuffled papers on her desk. “Next on the agenda, last week’s fundraising gala was—”

“What do you meannexton the agenda?” Phillip interrupted. “We haven’t finished discussing the Lone-Star Tech fiasco. It has damaged Whitlow Group’s standing, and we need something to mitigate this assault on our reputation.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, Father,” Ethan said smoothly and with an aloofness that had Noah’s hackles rising.

“And what idea is that?” Phillip asked.

“I’ve been thinking about doing another Whitlow Group charity event as a way of rehabing our reputation, maybe something to benefit homeless veterans or wounded police officers.”

Noah crossed his arms, counted to ten, and willed his anger into submission. Given how easily Ethan’s response came off the heels of Phillip’s comment, Noah had no doubt the pair were staging this interplay for Aunt Cathy’s benefit. She’d acted as peacemaker between the eldest and youngest Whitlow boys for longer than Noah had been alive.

“That’s a great idea,” Noah said, the little devil on his shoulder goading him into action. “But I think we should tweak Ethan’s plan a bit.”

“Tweak it how?” his father asked.

Noah opened his arms in an inviting gesture. “With so many families recently separated on our southern border, Whitlow Group could host a charity event to raise funds for their legal fees as they fight for family reunification and citizenship.And, if we preface the event withAbueloandAbuela’sharrowing escape from the Mexican cartels as they immigrated to the US, the event wouldn’t appear to be a mere publicity stunt. We’d be showing the heart of Whitlow Group and everything we stand for. Heck, we could even showcase yours andMamá’sincredible love story: the heir to a vast global empire who falls in love with the stable hand’s daughter. It’s practically a romance novel and people will eat it up.”

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