Chương 10
“Violins are rude when they’re ignored,” Livia told her.
Iris gave a small laugh.
“Play five minutes today,” Livia said. “Nothing you are preparing. Something easy.”
“What?”
“Open strings.”
“That’s for children.”
“So is sulking, but accomplished people manage it.”
Iris laughed again.
After the call, Livia sat on the edge of her bed with the phone in her lap and cried for the first time.
There was no dramatic release. Her face tightened. Tears came quietly and irritated the skin beside her nose. She was crying for Iris, for the canceled concert, for Adrian, for the ring still on the counter, and because she had spent years accepting invitations from people who used the word family whenever they wanted gratitude to become obedience.
Naomi found her there and handed her a tissue.
“I hate when crying blocks my nose,” Livia said.
“It is badly designed.”
“I have to pee again.”
“That is also badly designed.”
They sat together until Livia could breathe through both nostrils.
A week later, the trust offered a settlement.
It would restore all restricted scholarship funds using a personal guarantee from the Rowan family. It would pay Livia’s remaining contract, medical insurance through six months after delivery, and legal fees. The trust would issue a statement acknowledging that she had not stolen the access card or entered the executive office. In return, Livia would agree that the recording lacked context, withdraw claims about intentional misuse, and refrain from further comment.
Mara placed the proposal on the kitchen table.
“This is not a bad offer,” she said.
“It requires me to say the transfers were a misunderstanding.”
“It requires you to say the intent is disputed.”
“They bought a dance floor.”
“The money will be restored.”
“Because they were caught.”
“Yes.”
Livia walked to the window. Spring sunlight reached the wooden train set, still unfinished. Adrian had not returned to the apartment. He was staying with his mother in Connecticut and continued paying half the rent. They communicated through lawyers about expenses and through brief emails about prenatal appointments.
The next ultrasound was Monday.
He had asked permission to attend.
“Would the settlement reopen the programs?” Livia asked.
“Probably.”
“Would Eleanor return?”
“The board has not decided.”
“Would the investigation continue?”
“Internally, perhaps. Publicly, it would lose momentum.”
Mara waited.
Livia looked at the engagement ring, which she had moved from the counter into a small ceramic bowl so it would stop catching the light.
“I could make this easier for everyone.”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you think I should do?”
“I think you should understand the cost of every option.”
“And your opinion?”
Mara removed her glasses.
“My opinion is that powerful people rely on decent people becoming tired. My legal advice is that tired people sometimes accept useful settlements and live good lives afterward.”
Livia rested both hands on her abdomen.
The baby shifted slowly, one heel or elbow pressing beneath her palm.
“What happens if I refuse?”
“You may be sued. Your contract will remain suspended. The orchestra may distance itself. The investigation could still conclude that the transfers were improper but not intentionally fraudulent. Eleanor may survive. Adrian may protect himself. Public attention will move on.”
“So I could lose and still be right.”
“Yes.”
Livia read the proposal again.
She imagined the scholarship accounts replenished by Friday. Iris receiving a new housing placement. The orchestra restoring her concert after the baby was born. Health insurance remaining uncomplicated. Adrian’s attorneys negotiating quietly. Eleanor resigning in a statement praising renewal and transition.
It was not justice.
It was relief.
Relief had weight. It had rent, appointments, childcare, and a daughter arriving in less than ten weeks.
“I need the weekend,” she said.
On Saturday morning, Adrian came to the apartment for the ultrasound photographs Livia had agreed to leave with the doorman.
She watched him through the building camera.
He stood in the lobby holding the envelope but did not leave. After several minutes, he sat on a bench beneath a large arrangement of lilies. The doorman offered him coffee. Adrian shook his head.
Livia went downstairs.
He rose when the elevator opened.
“You should not have come up,” she said.
“I didn’t.”
“You were waiting.”
“Yes.”
He looked thinner. A faint bruise of exhaustion shadowed his eyes.
“Did Mara show you the settlement?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You should take it.”
Livia almost smiled. “Of course.”
“The funds go back. Your insurance continues. The trust acknowledges the card was planted.”
“It says the recording lacked context.”
“It did lack context.”
She stared at him.
Adrian rubbed his forehead. “Not the threat. The transfers. Eleanor believed the refinancing would close.”
“So did you.”
“Yes.”
“And that made using scholarship money acceptable.”
“No. It made it temporary.”
“There it is again.”
He looked toward the doorman, then lowered his voice. “I am not asking you to protect Eleanor.”
“You are asking me to protect you.”
“I am asking you to protect yourself and the baby.”
“The baby has a name.”
His face softened. “You chose one?”
“I have a list.”
“Am I allowed to see it?”
“Not today.”
He accepted that with a small nod.
The lilies in the lobby smelled too strong. One petal had fallen onto the polished table. The doorman pretended to study a delivery log.
Adrian held the ultrasound envelope against his chest. “There is something else in the access records.”
Livia waited.
“The second credential Camille mentioned belonged to Nathan.”
“He entered five minutes after the card assigned to me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He says he was retrieving the ledger.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you tell the investigators?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because the system export also shows my credentials accessing the financial server remotely that night.”
Livia felt the floor steady beneath her in an unpleasant way.
“What did you do?”
“I downloaded transfer files.”
“For Eleanor?”
“For myself.”
“Why?”
May you like
“Because I knew the financing might fail. I wanted proof that I had advised repayment.”
“You wanted proof that you were less guilty.”
