Chương 10
He deleted that too.
Finally he wrote three sentences himself.
Nine years ago, I participated in concealing the fact that Mara Carter was alive after her departure from Cross Meridian. I did so under pressure from my father, but the decision was mine. I am cooperating with an independent investigation into the circumstances surrounding her departure and the Rivergate matter.
Rachel read it.
“You’re not mentioning Eli.”
“No.”
“Good.”
Nathan looked surprised.
“He didn’t agree to become part of a corporate statement.”
Rachel nodded.
“Exactly.”
He posted the statement through the company.
The reaction was brutal.
Some people praised the admission.
Others called it calculated.
Commentators argued about whether Nathan was protecting his father’s reputation, his company, himself, or all three.
Old employees came forward with stories about Walter Cross.
Most were unverifiable.
Some contradicted one another.
A former vice president said Mara had been unstable.
Three former security employees publicly disputed him.
One anonymous account claimed Nathan had paid Mara millions to disappear.
Teresa saw it and called Rachel.
“This is garbage.”
“I know.”
“People are posting Eli’s school district.”
Rachel stood up.
“Send me the link.”
Within an hour, attorneys were requesting removal of identifying information.
It didn’t all disappear.
That night, Teresa moved Eli to a different apartment temporarily.
Nathan offered one of his properties.
She refused.
He offered money.
She refused that too.
He called Rachel.
“Why does she refuse everything?”
“Because she doesn’t trust you.”
“I’m trying to help.”
“She knows.”
“That should matter.”
“It does.”
“How?”
“It makes her suspicious of why.”
Nathan was quiet.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Keep offering without making acceptance the price of a relationship.”
“That’s incredibly inefficient.”
Rachel laughed.
“You’ve discovered family.”
Nathan spent the weekend in his Manhattan apartment alone.
On Saturday morning, he opened a kitchen cabinet and found olives.
He stared at them for almost a minute.
He had no idea who had bought them.
Probably his house manager.
He took the jar out, opened it, ate one, and immediately hated it.
Mara had been right.
He laughed alone in the kitchen.
Then he sat on the floor.
He did not cry loudly.
There was no one to hear him if he had.
He pressed both hands over his eyes and stayed there until the refrigerator motor stopped humming.
Monday brought a new problem.
The independent investigators found evidence that someone had accessed Mara’s personnel file three times after her disappearance.
The user account belonged to Nathan.
Nathan denied doing it.
Rachel believed him at first.
Then she stopped herself.
Belief was part of the problem.
“Could someone have used your account?”
“Back then, yes.”
“Who?”
“My father’s chief of staff. IT administrators. Maybe legal.”
“Did you share credentials?”
Nathan rubbed his forehead.
“It was 2017. The controls were worse.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes. My father knew my password.”
Rachel stared.
“You were CEO.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Right.”
Investigators traced one of the accesses to Walter’s office.
Another came from Nathan’s executive suite.
The third could not be attributed.
The executive-suite access occurred two months after Mara disappeared.
Nathan’s calendar showed he had been in London that day.
His father had been in New York.
That helped Nathan.
Not enough to absolve him.
It simply complicated the story.
Eli learned about the board leave from another child.
Teresa called Nathan that evening.
“He came home asking if you’re a criminal.”
Nathan stood in his study.
“What did you tell him?”
“That adults are investigating things you did.”
“Fair.”
“He wants to talk to you.”
Nathan’s chest tightened.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Teresa handed Eli the phone.
There was background noise. A television. A cabinet closing.
“Hi,” Eli said.
“Hi.”
“Are you going to jail?”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
There was a pause.
“Did you steal money?”
“No.”
“Did your dad?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Did my mom?”
“No.”
Nathan answered that without hesitation.
Eli was quiet.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because the records that made me think she did were created from accounts she didn’t control.”
“How do you know?”
“Investigators checked.”
“Oh.”
Another pause.
“Are you sorry?”
Nathan sat down.
“Yes.”
“For what?”
The question was harder than Nathan expected.
“For not believing her.”
“Okay.”
“For helping my father hide what happened.”
Silence.
“For telling people she died.”
Silence again.
“And for not looking for her.”
Eli breathed into the phone.
“Which one are you most sorry about?”
Nathan looked at the dark television screen across his study.
“That I didn’t look.”
“Why?”
“Because if I had, the rest might have changed.”
Eli thought.
“You might’ve found me.”
“Yes.”
“What would you have done?”
Nathan’s first impulse was to say he would have brought Eli home.
He stopped.
The answer was too clean.
“I don’t know.”
Eli sounded disappointed.
Nathan continued.
“I’d like to tell you I would have done everything right. But I didn’t do things right then.”
“So you might’ve still been bad?”
“Yes.”
Eli was quiet for several seconds.
“Mom said you were scared of being ordinary.”
Nathan smiled faintly.
“That sounds like her.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think it means I cared too much about being important.”
“Why?”
Nathan looked around the apartment.
Art. Stone. Glass. Rooms used so rarely they seemed staged.
“My father thought ordinary people disappeared.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
“Everybody disappears eventually.”
Nathan stopped breathing for a moment.
Nine-year-olds, he was learning, could say devastating things without intending to.
“No,” he said. “I guess it doesn’t.”
Eli yawned.
“Teresa says I have to go.”
“Okay.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
A pause.
Then Eli added, “Nathan?”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want people at school to know yet.”
Nathan’s hand tightened around the phone.
“I’ll do everything I can.”
“Okay.”
The call ended.
Nathan sat alone for another minute.
Then he called Rachel.
“Find out what we can legally do to protect Eli’s privacy.”
“We’re already doing that.”
“More.”
May you like
“There may not be more.”
“Then tell me that after you check.”
