Chương 7
“I have to get back.”
“Then go.”
He hesitated.
That was when I noticed the man behind him.
Mid-sixties, silver hair, black tuxedo, no visible drink.
He had been part of Julian’s group.
Unlike the others, he was not pretending not to watch us.
When our eyes met, he gave me a polite nod.
Julian followed my gaze.
His face tightened.
“Stay away from him.”
“Who is he?”
“No one you need to know.”
That sentence answered more than a name would have.
Julian took Chloe’s arm and walked back toward the group.
She looked over her shoulder once.
Not smug now.
Nervous.
I waited until they were several yards away.
Then I turned to Lena.
“Who’s the silver-haired man?”
She checked her tablet.
“Where?”
“Standing with Julian.”
Her eyes moved across the room.
“That’s Everett Shaw.”
“Helix?”
“No.”
She lowered the tablet.
“Apex.”
“What does he do?”
“Executive chairman.”
I looked back at Julian.
He had told me to stay away from the most powerful man in the company he might be negotiating with.
That was not caution.
That was containment.
“Does my father know him?”
Lena gave me a strange look.
“Very well.”
“Of course he does.”
“They served on the Cleveland Arts Council together for six years.”
I took a sip of champagne.
It was too sweet.
“Is there anyone in this room my father doesn’t know?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Most of the catering staff.”
“Comforting.”
Lena almost smiled.
Then someone behind me said, “Clarissa?”
The voice belonged to a woman I recognized after a second.
Margaret Shaw.
Everett’s wife.
I had met her once at a museum dinner when I was twenty-seven.
She had remembered everyone’s name and complained openly about the dessert.
Now she looked from me to Lena and then back again.
“My God.”
I braced myself.
Margaret stepped forward and hugged me.
Not politely.
Actually hugged me.
“You disappeared.”
Her perfume smelled like cedar and roses.
When she pulled back, she held both my arms.
“Arthur told us you were alive, which was not the same as explaining anything.”
A few nearby guests turned.
Across the ballroom, Julian noticed.
His face lost color.
Margaret looked at my dress.
“I remember this.”
I blinked.
“You do?”
“Your mother wore navy constantly for one summer and then declared it oppressive.”
A laugh escaped me.
“That sounds right.”
Margaret’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For saying her name without warning.”
The kindness of it nearly undid me more efficiently than cruelty had.
“I’m fine.”
She nodded as if she understood that fine was not a factual statement.
Then Everett Shaw joined us.
Up close, he looked less imposing than he had across the room.
Tired, mostly.
“Clarissa Vance.”
His voice was low.
“I thought Margaret was hallucinating.”
“She does that after bad dessert.”
Margaret slapped his arm.
“She remembers me.”
Everett smiled.
Then his attention shifted beyond my shoulder.
I did not need to turn.
Julian was coming.
“Clarissa.”
He said my name too quickly.
Everett looked at him.
“You know Ms. Vance?”
The question hung there.
Julian’s face changed in tiny increments.
First confusion.
Then recognition.
Then something much colder.
He looked at me.
“Ms. Vance?”
Margaret frowned.
“You didn’t know?”
Nobody spoke.
Chloe had followed Julian again.
She stood a step behind him, eyes moving between us.
Everett’s eyebrows lifted.
Julian recovered just enough to smile.
“Of course I know.”
He looked at me.
“She’s my wife.”
Margaret stared at him.
Then at me.
“You married Julian Cross?”
“I did.”
Everett’s expression became unreadable.
Chloe looked physically ill.
Julian laughed once, softly.
“I think we’ve all managed to confuse ourselves.”
“No,” Margaret said.
“I’m fairly clear now.”
Everett glanced toward Julian.
“You told me your wife had no involvement in business.”
“She doesn’t.”
The answer came instantly.
I felt something inside me settle.
Not break.
Settle.
Everett looked at me.
“Is that true?”
Julian answered for me.
“Yes.”
I set my champagne on a passing tray.
“I worked in private credit and special situations for Vance Capital for five years.”
Silence widened around us.
Julian stared.
Chloe’s lips parted.
Everett’s eyes sharpened.
Margaret looked almost amused.
“You never told him?”
“No.”
Julian’s voice dropped.
“Clarissa.”
I did not look at him.
Everett did.
“That changes tomorrow’s conversation.”
Julian’s composure cracked.
“Why would it change anything?”
Everett watched him for a moment too long.
“Because your wife may understand the transaction you’ve been discussing better than you suggested.”
“She has nothing to do with Cross Meridian.”
“Then there’s no problem.”
Julian looked at me.
There was anger there now.
Real anger.
But underneath it was fear.
“What exactly have you told them?”
“Nothing.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I arrived six minutes ago.”
Chloe stepped closer to him.
“Julian.”
He ignored her.
“You had no right to come here and interfere.”
Margaret’s face hardened.
Everett said, “That’s enough.”
Julian looked at him.
“I’m handling a private matter.”
“You’re handling it badly.”
The people nearest us had gone quieter.
Nobody stared directly.
Everyone listened.
Julian noticed.
His shoulders shifted.
He lowered his voice.
“Clarissa, can we speak privately?”
Before I could answer, a stir moved near the ballroom entrance.
Not dramatic.
Just the subtle rearrangement that happened when someone important entered a room.
Lena looked over my shoulder.
Her expression changed.
My father had arrived.
Arthur Vance walked into the ballroom without hurry, wearing a dark tuxedo and the same expression he used when restaurants tried to give him bad tables.
He looked older than the man I carried in memory.
His hair had gone almost completely white.
His shoulders seemed narrower.
For one painful second, I saw the three missing years all at once.
Then he saw me.
Everything else in his face disappeared.
He crossed the room.
He did not look at Julian.
He did not look at Everett.
He did not look at Chloe.
He stopped in front of me.
“Hi, kid.”
My throat closed.
“Hi, Dad.”
May you like
He hugged me.
I had expected myself to remain composed.
