Chương 13
She was speaking to a board member near the stage, but her eyes kept finding us.
"Spencer."
His mouth tightened.
"Because my mother said you would run."
There it was.
Not all of it.
Enough to shift the floor.
"You let Patricia decide custody strategy?"
"She called counsel."
Naomi said, "Which counsel?"
He ignored her again.
I said, "Did Cassandra know?"
His hesitation lasted half a second.
"Yes."
"Before I left?"
"No."
"After?"
"Yes."
The voicemail.
Tell her about the custody filing.
I looked at Patricia again.
She was no longer watching us.
She was watching the ballroom doors.
"Why?"
Spencer frowned.
"Why what?"
"Why would Cassandra care about custody?"
His face went blank.
Then something like comprehension moved through it.
Not guilt.
Fear.
He looked toward the doors too.
The lights dimmed slightly.
A man onstage tapped the microphone.
"Good evening, everyone."
Applause began.
Spencer swore under his breath.
"What?"
He looked at me.
"The announcement."
Naomi said, "What announcement?"
Spencer didn't answer.
The host smiled out at the room.
"Tonight, Grand Pinnacle Partners and Albright Enterprises are proud to unveil a transformative new infrastructure fund."
My stomach dropped.
Thomas had been right.
The room applauded.
The digital display behind the stage changed.
A new name appeared across it.
Pinnacle Renewal Fund.
Below it, projected capitalization.
One hundred and fifty million dollars.
Naomi looked at Spencer.
"Where is that money coming from?"
He didn't answer.
The host continued.
"We are especially honored that this fund is supported by long-standing private capital relationships whose commitment reflects confidence in the Albright platform."
I stared at the screen.
Supported.
Not funded.
Not guaranteed.
Careful language.
Spencer's face had gone gray.
"Did Crawford agree to this?"
I asked.
"No."
The applause stopped sounding distant.
It became dangerous.
"Then why are they implying it?"
"It wasn't supposed to be phrased that way."
Naomi said, "Who approved the script?"
Spencer looked toward the stage.
The host smiled.
"And to speak about the family's extraordinary commitment, please welcome Patricia Albright."
Patricia walked toward the microphone.
I felt Spencer move beside me.
He whispered, "This is wrong."
Naomi turned to him.
"Which part?"
"She isn't supposed to speak."
Patricia reached the podium.
The screen behind her changed again.
A logo appeared beside Albright's.
Crawford Capital.
My entire body went still.
Naomi swore softly.
Spencer said, "I didn't authorize that."
I looked at him.
For the first time all evening, I believed him.
Then Patricia smiled into the ballroom.
"Families," she began, "are built on trust."
The irony almost made me dizzy.
She continued.
"And tonight, two families stand together."
People around us began turning.
Toward me.
Toward Spencer.
Toward the Crawford name glowing thirty feet high behind Patricia's head.
My phone vibrated.
Thomas.
I answered without taking my eyes off the stage.
"What?"
His voice was sharp.
"Do not let anyone represent Crawford Capital as participating."
"Too late."
"What happened?"
"They put our logo on the screen."
Silence.
Then, "Who is speaking?"
"Patricia."
Another silence.
This one colder.
"Get the event feed preserved."
Naomi heard him.
Thomas continued.
"Gwen, listen to me."
"I'm listening."
"We just identified Marston Strategic Holdings."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Who owns it?"
"Not Cassandra."
I looked across the ballroom.
Patricia was still speaking about legacy and partnership.
"Who?"
Thomas said the name.
For a second, I thought I had heard him wrong.
"Say that again."
"Patricia Albright."
The room tilted.
Onstage, Patricia smiled beneath the Crawford logo.
Thomas continued.
"Marston is controlled through a trust, but the beneficial owner is Patricia."
I looked at Spencer.
He was watching his mother.
He had not heard.
Twenty-seven million dollars from Albright subsidiaries had moved into a company she controlled.
The missing guarantee schedules.
Cassandra's access.
The rushed custody filing.
Family leverage.
Something had been moving beneath our marriage that even Spencer might not fully understand.
Then the ballroom doors opened.
Every head near the back of the room turned.
Cassandra stood there in the same champagne gown, the stain still visible near her hip.
She was holding a large white envelope.
And beside her stood Marcus Pell.
Cassandra did not look at me.
She looked at Patricia.
That was the first thing I noticed.
The second was that Marcus Pell was carrying nothing at all.
No briefcase.
No folder.
No expression that suggested he wanted to be there.
Patricia faltered for less than a second at the podium.
Most people missed it.
Spencer did not.
He stepped away from me.
"What the hell is she doing?"
Naomi touched my arm.
"Stay here."
"I am."
Cassandra began walking down the center aisle.
The crowd shifted around her in slow confusion.
People smiled because they had not yet understood that they were watching something private become public.
Marcus followed several steps behind.
Patricia kept speaking.
"...the kind of partnership that allows institutions to endure beyond any one generation."
Cassandra stopped halfway to the stage.
"That's enough."
Her voice carried farther than she probably intended.
The microphone caught the silence afterward.
Patricia gripped the podium.
"Cassandra."
The familiarity in her tone changed the room.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Cassandra held up the white envelope.
"You said tonight fixed everything."
Spencer stared at her.
"What is she talking about?"
Patricia smiled toward the audience.
"There seems to be some confusion."
Marcus said, "There is."
His voice was calm.
That was worse.
He walked past Cassandra and stopped near the stage.
"I'm Marcus Pell."
Several people already knew.
A few board members stood.
Patricia stepped away from the microphone.
"You were retained confidentially."
"By the board's special committee."
Spencer turned toward him.
"What special committee?"
Marcus looked at Spencer.
"The one formed this afternoon."
Spencer laughed once.
"No."
"Yes."
The ballroom had lost all pretense of being a gala.
Phones appeared discreetly and then not discreetly at all.
Naomi leaned toward me.
"Do not say anything unless you have to."
I nodded.
My phone was still connected to Thomas.
May you like
He whispered, "I'm listening."
Onstage, Patricia tried to reclaim the microphone.
