With my laptop connected to the internet, my plan was to do more of a search on Donovan Sherman. Before I did, I scanned my emails and shook my head. The executive-in-training position I’d had for the last year at Wade accounted for ninety percent of my unopened emails. There were a few from the wedding planner.

Mother could take care of anything regarding the wedding.

I typed out a request to Leigh, my assistant, telling her that I would be unreachable through at least the third of January—the end of the holiday weekend. I asked her to handle whatever arose and if she needed further direction to contact my mother or father.

When the rift between Grandfather Herman and Dad came to a head, Mom took her place in the company. She’d always been involved beneath the surface. However, the upheaval within the family was getting to be more than she could handle from afar. Today, both of my parents were co-CEOs.

Securing Mother’s position was another of Grandfather’s doings and a slap in the face to my father. Thankfully, my parents had worked it out. Grandfather might be disappointed if he knew how well my parents worked together.

One particular email heading caught my eye. It was dated last Saturday morning—the date I left Chicago. Subject line: Emergency meeting of shareholders. The email was sent by Marlin Butler.

I searched for the minutes from the meeting, but they weren’t in my email.

Either the meeting was never called or I’d been omitted from receiving the minutes. Either way, my suspicion was piqued. I sent another message to Leigh, asking for a follow-up on the meeting if there had been one. As I was about to log out of my email, another subject heading dated yesterday drew my attention. Unlike the company-wide email, this was directly from my father to me.

My finger lingered over the mouse, deciding whether I wanted to open, leave as unread, or delete.

I hadn’t spoken to my father since I’d called off the wedding, only my mother.

Holding my breath, I opened the email. On the screen was the place to enter a pin.

This formality made me smile. The encoded email was something between me and my father.

We started our secret system when I was still in high school. We’d use our clandestine messages to plan surprises for my mother or to invite one another on special father-daughter dates. As an only child, I loved the times I’d get one parent to themselves. I’d dress up and Dad would take me to one of the restaurants downtown. Sometimes my mother and I would dress up and go to tea at the Drake Hotel.

The encoded lock on the email made it impossible for anyone else to come upon our correspondence and access what was written.

I entered the four numbers that were special to us.

The email opened.