Chương 5
Savannah stood very still.
From the living room, Christopher’s voice carried through the doorway.
“Ask her about the original incorporation account.”
Savannah felt the blood drain from her face.
Not because his claim was true.
Because she finally understood why he had spent the last month asking strange questions about records from twelve years ago.
Christopher was not simply trying to justify taking forty thousand dollars.
He was preparing to claim part of her company.
Savannah had spent twelve years building Mercer Adaptive Systems, and Christopher had spent exactly none of them inside the company’s books.
The original incorporation account had held seven thousand eight hundred dollars.
Five thousand came from Savannah’s savings.
Two thousand came from a university innovation grant.
Eight hundred came from a refund on equipment she had returned after buying the wrong model.
Christopher had not been her husband then.
He had barely been her boyfriend.
But he had been around.
And apparently that was enough for him now.
Savannah looked toward the living room.
“He’s lying.”
Ruiz did not react.
“I’m not deciding that.”
“He knows he never invested.”
“He says he has records.”
Savannah’s heartbeat changed.
“What records?”
“He didn’t specify.”
From the living room, Christopher called, “The wire from April.”
Savannah closed her eyes for half a second.
April.
She knew immediately which April he meant.
Twelve years earlier, when her company had still been a legal name, two folding tables, and a borrowed office with a ceiling tile that leaked into a trash can every time it rained, Christopher had transferred three thousand dollars into Savannah’s checking account.
Not the company account.
Her personal account.
The transfer had been labeled loan.
She had paid him back six weeks later.
In cash.
That last part suddenly felt catastrophically stupid.
She had been twenty-nine.
He had been funny, charming, and perpetually broke in a way that seemed temporary because he spoke about money like it was always about to arrive.
She had needed rent.
He had sold a motorcycle.
He handed her three thousand dollars and told her not to worry about paying it back quickly.
Savannah had paid it back anyway.
Three thousand dollars in an envelope after her first consulting contract cleared.
No receipt.
No memo.
No signed acknowledgment.
Just Christopher kissing her forehead and saying, “See, we take care of each other.”
Ruiz watched Savannah’s face.
“You know what he’s referring to.”
“Yes.”
“Was there a transfer?”
“Yes.”
Christopher appeared in the doorway.
Pike stepped after him.
“I told you.”
Ruiz looked annoyed.
“I told you to stay in the other room.”
“He’s twisting it,” Savannah said.
Christopher smiled.
It was not his old smile.
This one contained relief.
“He knows what it is.”
“What was the money for?” Ruiz asked.
“My rent.”
Christopher laughed.
“Your rent.”
“Yes.”
“You were starting the company.”
“I was also living indoors.”
“You told me you needed the money because the company wasn’t paying you.”
“That doesn’t make it an investment.”
“It funded you while you built it.”
“You called it a loan.”
Christopher spread his hands.
“Semantics.”
Savannah stared at him.
The word was so ridiculous that for a moment she could not respond.
Ruiz stepped between them before either could escalate.
“This sounds civil.”
“It is,” Pike said.
Christopher’s face sharpened.
“No, it isn’t.”
Pike looked at him.
“You’re alleging an ownership interest in a company.”
“I’m alleging financial abuse.”
Savannah felt the phrase land with almost physical force.
Christopher saw it.
That encouraged him.
“She controls everything.”
His voice shifted again, softer now.
“She controls every account, every card, every major decision.”
“You had access to the emergency fund,” Savannah said.
“That’s because I found a workaround.”
Ruiz’s eyes moved to him.
Christopher froze.
The room went silent.
Beatrice closed her eyes.
Pike said, “You found a workaround.”
Christopher rubbed his mouth.
“That came out wrong.”
“It came out pretty clearly.”
“I mean, she had locked me out.”
Savannah looked at him.
“I changed the password after the first withdrawal.”
“You changed it without telling me.”
“Because you took nine thousand dollars.”
“Our money.”
“Then you reset the security questions and took eleven more.”
Christopher looked at Ruiz.
“You see what I’m talking about?”
Ruiz did not answer.
He continued.
“She treats me like a criminal whenever I touch anything financially.”
“You just described bypassing security on an account after being locked out.”
“It’s my household too.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is exactly the point.”
Pike guided Christopher back toward the living room.
This time, Christopher went.
Beatrice sat down.
The movement was slow, almost elderly.
Savannah had never thought of her as old before.
Beatrice was sixty-eight and carried herself with the disciplined vanity of someone who considered aging a personal negotiation.
Now her shoulders sagged.
“Did he really reset the security questions?”
Savannah looked at her.
“Yes.”
“What questions?”
“My first school and my father’s middle name.”
Beatrice frowned.
“How would he know your first school?”
“Christmas dinner.”
Beatrice stared.
“You mentioned it?”
“You asked where I learned to play piano.”
Beatrice looked down at her hands.
“Oh.”
Savannah remembered that dinner.
Beatrice had served prime rib and complained that the potatoes were underdone even though she had cooked them herself.
Christopher had been unusually quiet.
Savannah had assumed he was tired.
Now she wondered whether he had simply been listening.
Ruiz asked Savannah if she had somewhere else she could stay that night.
Savannah almost answered automatically.
Then she stopped.
“This is my house.”
“I know.”
“Why would I leave?”
“I’m not telling you to.”
“Then why ask?”
Ruiz’s expression softened slightly.
“Because domestic situations can get more complicated after we leave.”
Savannah looked toward the living room.
“So you are leaving him here?”
“That depends on what we determine.”
The answer frightened Savannah more than she expected.
Until that moment, some part of her had believed the police would arrive, identify the truth, and sort the room into innocent and guilty.
Instead, there were statements.
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