Chương 5
The boy fell.
He looked toward his father before deciding whether to cry.
His father lifted one hand.
The boy got up.
I sat on the opposite bench and pressed my palms together.
Gavin had known my passcode.
That fact was ordinary.
Married people knew things like that.
They shared grocery lists and toothbrush cups and streaming accounts.
They shouted passwords from one room to another.
Trust was built from a thousand small permissions.
I had treated each permission as evidence of closeness.
He may have treated them as access.
My phone vibrated in my hand.
Gavin.
I stared at his name.
This time, I answered.
“Hello?”
His relief was immediate.
“Jesus, Maddie.”
I said nothing.
“What is going on?”
“You tell me.”
A beat passed.
“What does that mean?”
“You called.”
“Because my company card is frozen.”
“Our company card.”
“Fine.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Our company card.”
“Why is Northline Materials billing us?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
The difference was enough.
“Gavin?”
“Where are you?”
“Why is Northline billing us?”
“Why are you going through company records while I’m gone?”
“I own sixty-eight percent of the company.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“That percentage thing.”
I almost laughed.
“The percentage thing?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You act like I’m your employee whenever you’re mad.”
“Answer the question.”
He lowered his voice.
“Northline is a supplier.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you formed it.”
Another silence.
Then voices moved behind him.
Paisley said something I could not make out.
Gavin walked somewhere quieter.
“Maddie, listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“There’s an explanation.”
“Good.”
“Not over the phone.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re obviously worked up.”
I looked across the courtyard at the little boy circling the fountain.
“I’m sitting on a bench.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Who have you talked to?”
There it was.
Not what did you find.
Who have you talked to.
“Why?”
“I’m trying to understand what you’re doing.”
“I asked you first.”
He breathed out hard.
“Northline was supposed to simplify purchasing.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because you were already stressed.”
“With what?”
“The pregnancy.”
I closed my eyes.
“You hid a company from me because I was pregnant?”
“I didn’t hide it.”
“You formed it under your name and billed our business.”
“It was temporary.”
“Where did the money go?”
“I said we’ll talk when I get home.”
“Did you access my banking credentials?”
He stopped breathing loudly enough that I could hear the absence.
Then he said, “What?”
“The forty-thousand-dollar transfer.”
“What transfer?”
“You know which one.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re lying.”
His voice hardened.
“Watch yourself.”
Something inside me went still.
For years, those two words had worked.
They meant I was getting emotional.
They meant I was embarrassing him.
They meant I should soften my voice and repair the room.
This time, I watched the little boy wobble past on his scooter.
“No,” I said.
Gavin was quiet.
“No what?”
“No, I’m not going to watch myself.”
“Madeline.”
“You should start watching yourself.”
I ended the call.
My hands shook afterward.
I did not feel victorious.
I felt sick.
Upstairs, Samuel took one look at me.
“You called him.”
“He called me.”
“You answered.”
“Yes.”
“Did you record it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Denise raised an eyebrow.
Samuel frowned at her.
“What?”
“I expected the lawyer to want recordings.”
“I want my client not manufacturing legal complications.”
I sat down.
“He knows I found Northline.”
“Fine.”
“He asked who I talked to.”
Denise nodded once.
“That’s useful.”
“Why?”
“Because now he knows the records are being examined.”
“That sounds bad.”
“It can be.”
Samuel folded his arms.
“People make mistakes when they feel watched.”
I looked at him.
“I thought we weren’t relying on him being stupid.”
“We aren’t.”
Denise closed her laptop.
“But we should expect him to start protecting himself.”
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was not Gavin.
It was a notification from our home security system.
FRONT DOOR ACCESS ATTEMPT.
I stared at the screen.
Samuel leaned over.
“What is it?”
Another alert appeared.
GARAGE ENTRY FAILED.
Then a third.
FRONT DOOR ACCESS ATTEMPT.
I opened the security app.
A figure stood on the porch.
Not Gavin.
Bernice.
Her vacation hat was still on her head.
She was pulling at the new lock with both hands.
A suitcase sat behind her.
Paisley stepped into view.
Then Gavin came up the walkway.
He looked directly at the doorbell camera.
His face had gone completely pale.
For three seconds, none of us in the apartment spoke.
Then Bernice leaned into the doorbell camera until one enormous sunglass lens filled the screen.
“Madeline,” she shouted.
The microphone flattened her voice into something metallic.
“Open this door right now.”
Paisley stepped behind her and looked toward the driveway as if checking whether a neighbor was watching.
Gavin stayed farther back.
He did not touch the door.
Samuel held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Madeline.”
“I’m not talking to them.”
“Good.”
He lowered his hand.
“Then don’t.”
Another alert sounded.
Bernice had tried the side entrance.
Denise stood and began packing her laptop.
“I’m going.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because this is no longer accounting.”
Samuel nodded.
“I’ll call you.”
Denise slipped the computer into her bag and paused beside me.
“Don’t make financial decisions tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“People never are.”
She left.
On my phone, Bernice came back into view and stabbed the doorbell button repeatedly.
Samuel muted the speaker.
“That is already preserved by the system, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Cloud storage?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Gavin finally approached the camera.
He looked tired.
Not vacation tired.
Cornered tired.
“Maddie.”
He spoke quietly, almost reasonably.
“We came back early.”
I watched his face.
“Obviously.”
Samuel looked at me.
I had forgotten the microphone was active.
Gavin heard me.
His eyes lifted toward the camera.
“Okay.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth.
May you like
“Can we talk?”
Bernice snapped something behind him.
