Chương 6
I looked at Thomas.
"What happens if Albright doesn't get the forty million?"
Thomas answered loudly enough for Spencer to hear.
"They'll need to explain why they requested it."
Spencer stopped breathing for half a second.
I felt it through the phone.
"Who's there?"
I ended the call.
Richard leaned back.
"That was unwise."
"Which part?"
"Letting Thomas speak."
Thomas frowned.
"Thank you."
Richard ignored him.
"Now Spencer knows we're together."
"He knew I called."
"Knowing you called is not the same as knowing you've returned."
The word struck harder than it should have.
Returned.
I put my phone face down.
"I haven't returned."
Richard's jaw moved once.
"No."
Hazel looked between us.
"Returned where?"
"To nothing," I said.
Richard looked out the window.
Traffic crawled along the boulevard in red brake-light ribbons.
A woman at the next booth was trying to convince a toddler that ketchup was not soup.
For a few minutes nobody at our table spoke.
Hazel finished her applesauce and asked for chocolate pudding.
Richard ordered it before I could answer.
I glared at him.
"The pharmacist said it was fine."
"You're already undermining me."
"Over pudding?"
"It starts somewhere."
Thomas muttered, "There we are."
Richard gave him a murderous look.
Hazel whispered to me, "I like him."
"That's because he bought pudding."
"Yes."
At least her standards were transparent.
My phone buzzed again.
This time the message came from Evan.
I shouldn't be contacting you.
Then another.
But you asked what I should have said something about.
A third message arrived with a photograph.
It showed a printed spreadsheet lying on what looked like Spencer's desk.
Several transaction lines were highlighted in yellow.
The amounts were large.
The recipient names meant nothing to me.
Thomas was beside me before I consciously moved the phone.
"Don't forward that."
"Why?"
"Because we don't know how he got it."
Richard reached for his glasses.
"What is it?"
Thomas held up one hand.
"Don't touch the phone."
My father stared at him.
"I'm capable of reading."
"You're also capable of contaminating a witness chain before dessert."
Hazel looked at her pudding.
"What's contaminating?"
"Ruining something by touching it," I said.
She immediately removed both hands from the bowl.
"No, sweetheart, your pudding is safe."
Thomas studied the photograph without taking the phone.
"Ask Evan whether he personally printed this."
I typed.
The reply came quickly.
No.
Found it in conference room after Spencer meeting with CFO and outside restructuring guy.
Thomas's face changed.
"Restructuring?"
Richard leaned closer.
"Who?"
Another message.
Marcus Pell.
Thomas cursed under his breath.
Richard said, "That's not good."
I looked between them.
"Who is Marcus Pell?"
Thomas answered.
"Turnaround consultant."
Richard added, "The kind of man boards call when normal optimism stops working."
"Was he supposed to be there?"
"No."
Thomas checked his own phone.
"And if Spencer brought him in quietly, Albright's liquidity problem may predate today."
I looked again at the photograph.
One highlighted recipient read Marston Strategic Holdings.
"Can you identify these companies?"
"Yes, but not from your phone."
Evan sent another message.
There was also this.
A second photograph appeared.
This one showed a handwritten page.
Spencer's handwriting.
I recognized the narrow, backward-leaning numbers.
At the top were four words.
Bridge before Pinnacle announcement.
Below that, a list of amounts.
Forty million was circled twice.
At the bottom, Spencer had written one sentence.
If Crawford blocks, use family leverage.
My fingers went cold.
Thomas saw it.
Richard did too.
Neither man spoke.
Hazel licked chocolate from her spoon.
"What does family leverage mean?"
I locked the phone.
"Nothing you need to worry about."
She studied my face.
"That's grown-up lying."
The accusation was gentle.
It still landed.
I put my hand over hers.
"You're right."
Richard looked at me.
I took a breath.
"It means Daddy may try to use me to get something he wants."
"Like what?"
"Money."
Hazel frowned.
"Doesn't Daddy have money?"
Richard stared at the table.
Thomas rubbed his forehead.
I almost laughed, but there was nothing funny in the answer.
"Apparently not enough."
My regular phone rang again.
Not Spencer.
Patricia.
I declined it.
She called again.
Then a voicemail notification appeared.
Thomas said, "Save everything."
"I know."
"Do you?"
I gave him a look.
He raised both hands.
"Sorry."
I played the voicemail on speaker at low volume.
Patricia's voice came through sharp and breathless.
"Gwen, whatever childish thing you've done, undo it immediately."
A pause followed, then the distant sound of someone speaking near her.
She covered the phone badly.
I heard Cassandra say, "Tell her about the custody filing."
Then Patricia returned.
"You have responsibilities to this family, whether you like it or not."
The message ended.
Richard's face had gone very still.
I played it again.
Thomas stopped me.
"Don't."
"Why?"
"You heard what matters."
"Cassandra knew about the filing."
"You already knew that."
"No."
I looked at him.
"I knew she was there when Spencer handed me papers."
Thomas waited.
I replayed the exact wording in my head.
Tell her about the custody filing.
Not the divorce.
The custody filing.
Something shifted.
"Spencer said the papers were prepared last week."
Richard nodded slowly.
"So?"
I looked at Thomas.
"If they already filed something, why give me papers to sign today?"
Thomas's expression sharpened.
"They may have filed a petition and tried to get your agreement afterward."
"Would I have been served?"
"Normally, yes."
"I wasn't."
"Then we don't guess."
He took out his phone.
I looked at Hazel.
She had drawn a smiley face in spilled pudding with the back of her spoon.
The practical ugliness of custody suddenly felt more frightening than forty million dollars.
Money could be audited.
Loans could be denied.
But Spencer knew how to perform fatherhood when people were watching.
He knew judges had schedules, lawyers had strategies, and frightened mothers could be made to look unstable if they arrived furious enough.
May you like
I had spent six years avoiding fights.
Now I understood that avoiding them had left me with very little paper proving why I should have fought sooner.
