Chapter 6 - Project Northstar
Project Northstar contained eighty-seven documents.
Not all related to divorce.
That would have been almost comforting.
Some were business plans.
Some were personal.
Some were both.
Julian had always been good at merging categories when it benefited him.
The first document was a timeline.
ANNIVERSARY GALA
SUMMIT FUNDING
FOUNDER TRANSITION
MARITAL RESTRUCTURE
GROWTH PLATFORM LAUNCH
My marriage appeared between financing milestones.
Efficient.
The “marital restructure” was scheduled six weeks after the gala.
Julian had apparently planned to ask for divorce after moving Summit Crest into its next funding phase.
Why wait?
Because several agreements required founder stability.
My signature.
My voting rights.
My ownership stake.
My reputation.
My presence beside him still had value.
Just not enough for a seat at table one.
Rebecca read the timeline silently.
Then looked at me.
“How are you?”
“Ask later.”
We continued.
Another document estimated property division.
The penthouse.
Hamptons house.
Investment accounts.
Art.
Retirement assets.
Then:
ALEXANDRA – MERCER MERIDIAN HOLDINGS
Proposed outcome:
Cash buyout.
Value assigned: $42 million.
I stared.
Mercer Meridian’s Reed Meridian stake alone was worth considerably more.
“What’s actual value?” I asked Isaac.
“Depending on pending valuations, likely between seventy and ninety million.”
Julian had planned to buy me out at roughly half.
“How?”
Rebecca found the answer.
A valuation report.
Commissioned by Julian.
It treated Mercer Meridian’s shares as heavily discounted due to lack of operational involvement and restrictions on transfer.
That might have been arguable.
Then we saw the signature page.
Acknowledgment of methodology.
Alexandra Mercer Reed.
Not mine.
Again.
My husband had been preparing evidence that I accepted a valuation designed to underpay me.
“Did Lana know about this?”
“No,” Isaac said.
“How do you know?”
“Her recovered messages indicate Julian told her you wanted liquidity.”
Of course.
I was always voluntarily leaving in his stories.
The company.
The ballroom.
The marriage.
The money.
He never erased me.
Imaginary Alexandra simply kept choosing to disappear.
Then came the Northstar communications plan.
That one almost impressed me.
It included messaging for investors, employees, friends, and the press.
Julian and Alexandra have mutually decided to end their marriage after a long period of private reflection.
Alexandra remains a valued supporter of Reed Meridian’s mission but has increasingly focused on philanthropic priorities.
Julian will continue leading the firm through its next stage of growth.
No affair.
No secret fund.
No fake flights.
No forged signatures.
Just an elegant woman drifting toward philanthropy while the brilliant husband continued building.
Lana’s name appeared in the document metadata.
She had edited it.
When Rebecca told her attorney, Lana requested a formal interview.
She arrived the next morning looking exhausted.
No makeup.
No bracelet.
No Julian.
“I wrote some of the messaging,” she admitted.
“Did you know Alexandra had not agreed to divorce?” Grace asked.
Lana hesitated.
“Julian told me they had agreed privately.”
I almost corrected her.
Then stopped.
Third person.
They.
Maybe necessary for her to speak.
“He said Alexandra didn’t want lawyers involved until after year-end because of the firm.”
Rebecca asked, “Did you ever confirm with Alexandra?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Lana looked at me.
“Because I didn’t want to.”
Honest.
Ugly.
Better than excuses.
Then she turned over her phone.
Messages.
Hundreds.
Julian telling her I was emotionally checked out.
That I hated finance.
That I wanted to spend more time with foundations.
That I had suggested keeping the Reed name professionally after divorce.
That I approved Summit Crest.
That I wanted him happy.
That I understood Lana mattered to him.
He had created the perfect wife for his mistress.
A woman who approved her own replacement.
Then Lana showed us something worse.
A message from Julian:
After Northstar closes, Mercer gets bought out and we control both platforms.
Lana had replied:
We?
Julian:
You and me.
Another:
Lana:
What if Alexandra pushes back?
Julian:
She won’t. Conflict exhausts her. Give her dignity and enough money, she’ll choose peace.
I stared at the screen.
There it was.
My marriage converted into risk analysis.
He had studied my kindness like a market behavior.
Then the final message:
Lana:
And if she doesn’t?
Julian:
Then we remind people she hasn’t been operational in years.
I understood.
The seating chart.
The speeches.
The repeated public framing.
Supportive wife.
Foundation guest.
Non-operational.
Julian had been building the record long before he filed any paperwork.
“What did he plan for Mercer Meridian’s shares after the buyout?” I asked.
Lana looked down.
“Summit Crest investors were expecting access.”
Rebecca frowned.
“To Reed Meridian?”
“Yes.”
The $42 million buyout was not simply divorce planning.
It was corporate restructuring.
Julian intended to acquire my voting block cheaply, then use it as leverage to support Summit Crest’s transition.
My marriage was not collateral damage from his business scheme.
It was part of the scheme.
That afternoon, the independent directors placed Julian on administrative leave.
Peter Sloan and Eric Ward followed.
Lana was suspended pending review.
Julian’s access to systems, trading records, and company facilities was revoked.
He arrived at our penthouse forty minutes after the notice.
I had never seen him so angry.
“You did this.”
I stood near the windows.
“No.”
“The board is terrified because you turned private marital issues into corporate allegations.”
“You created Summit Crest.”
“To protect opportunities Reed Meridian couldn’t pursue.”
“You diverted company research.”
“That is disputed.”
“You forged my approvals.”
His expression changed.
“Those were administrative.”
I almost laughed.
“Administrative forgery?”
“You authorized me to manage founder matters for years.”
“No.”
“You signed whatever I put in front of you.”
The words struck harder than he intended.
There it was.
His real defense.
Trust as retroactive consent.
“You’re right.”
He looked surprised.
“I did.”
I stepped closer.
“And you mistook that for permission to sign when I stopped.”
His jaw tightened.
“You are going to destroy everything we built.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I’m going to find out what you built behind it.”
Then I handed him an envelope.
Divorce papers.
May you like
He stared at them.
For the first time since the private aviation company called, Julian had nothing to say.
