Chương 4
“I didn’t forge it.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was considering it.”
“That’s worse.”
“No, sweetheart.”
I hated how softly the word came out.
“It’s more honest.”
Her shoulders folded inward.
“The loan was supposed to be temporary.”
“Twelve million dollars is not temporary.”
“He needed eight.”
“Then why twelve?”
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t know.”
She slapped one hand against the windowsill.
“I don’t know everything, okay?”
The door handle moved.
Marcus’s voice came through from the hall.
“Lydia, open the door.”
She went rigid.
Raymond said something I could not hear.
Marcus raised his voice.
“This is my wife.”
Lydia stared at the door.
I watched her instead.
“What is he afraid you’ll tell me?”
“Nothing.”
The answer came too quickly.
I walked to the counter, poured water from a glass carafe, and handed it to her.
She took it without drinking.
“Did you know the signature wasn’t mine?”
“No.”
“Did you give anyone permission to use it?”
“No.”
“Did Marcus ever ask for a sample of my signature?”
Her face changed.
There it was.
A clue arriving through memory rather than confession.
“What?”
“He had me send him the trust amendment from when Grandma died.”
“When?”
“February.”
“Why?”
“He said his accountant needed to understand what assets I controlled.”
“And my signature was on that amendment.”
She stared at the water.
“Yes.”
Outside, Marcus struck the door once with the flat of his hand.
“Lydia.”
She flinched.
I set my own glass down.
“Has he hit you?”
Her head came up.
“No.”
I believed her.
“Threatened you?”
“No.”
Another hesitation.
“Not like that.”
“Like what?”
She looked toward the door again.
“He says things.”
“Everyone says things.”
“Mom.”
“What things?”
She drew a breath.
“When I started asking questions about the money, he said investors would blame me if the company failed.”
“Why would investors blame you?”
“Because my name is on some of the fundraising materials.”
My stomach dropped.
“What materials?”
“I hosted dinners.”
“Lydia.”
“I introduced people.”
“Who?”
She named three families I knew.
Then two retired executives.
Then a foundation trustee who had sat beside me at dinner six months earlier and thanked me for recommending Marcus.
I had not recommended Marcus.
I had said he was my daughter’s fiancé.
In our world, apparently, people heard those words differently.
“How much did they invest?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Estimate.”
“Maybe thirty million total.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“Based on what representations?”
“I didn’t make representations.”
“You just hosted the dinners.”
“Yes.”
“And sat beside him while he made them.”
Her silence answered.
“Did he use my name?”
“He said your family office had reviewed the company.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did it?”
“No.”
“Did you correct him?”
“He didn’t say it exactly like that.”
“How did he say it?”
She rubbed her thumb harder.
“He said he’d had access to some of the toughest due diligence in the business because he was marrying into your family.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
“Did the investors?”
Her mouth tightened.
“I don’t know.”
I almost told her to stop saying it.
I stopped myself.
There are moments when a person’s ignorance is not evasive.
It is the edge of the hole they have just discovered beneath their own feet.
A notification sounded from Lydia’s phone.
She pulled it from a small satin pocket sewn into the dress.
Eleven unread messages.
Most were from Marcus.
She opened the newest one.
Her face went still.
“What?”
She turned the phone toward me.
It read, Your mother is going to destroy us because you panicked.
The next message appeared while I was holding the phone.
If you tell her anything else, every investor will know you signed the guarantees.
Another came.
Remember whose name is on the subscription decks.
I handed the phone back.
“Do not delete those.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Forward them to Julia.”
“Your lawyer?”
“Our lawyer, if you want her.”
Lydia looked almost offended.
“After everything I said to you?”
“Legal representation is not a reward for being pleasant.”
That nearly made her smile.
Nearly.
The door opened.
Raymond stepped in alone.
“Sorry.”
“What happened?”
“Marcus tried to leave.”
Lydia’s head jerked toward him.
“Leave?”
“He asked the valet for his car.”
“Where is he?”
“Still here.”
“Did you stop him?”
“I told the valet not to release any vehicle registered to the Thorne company until ownership was verified.”
I looked at Raymond.
“Can we legally do that?”
“On private property, with a dispute over whether the cars are collateral connected to your holding company, Julia said we can delay release while counsel sorts it out.”
Good.
No theatrical seizure.
No handcuffs appearing because I wanted them.
Real consequences took paperwork.
Raymond continued.
“He called someone afterward.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“I’m not asking you to spy on him.”
“We didn’t.”
He glanced at Lydia.
“He was loud enough for half the valet staff to hear.”
“What did he say?”
“That he needed a driver and that they should move the files before tonight.”
Lydia’s water glass slipped in her fingers.
She caught it before it fell.
“What files?”
Raymond shook his head.
“No idea.”
I was already reaching for my phone.
Julia answered immediately.
I told her.
She said, “Do not send anyone after anything.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I said I know.”
“Eleanor, you sound exactly like you did during the Preston litigation.”
“I won the Preston litigation.”
“You also nearly got held in contempt.”
Lydia looked at me.
I ignored her.
“What can we do?”
“If there is evidence of fraud, counsel can issue preservation notices, but that does not magically freeze a private office.”
“Can we call the police?”
“With what?”
“A forged signature.”
“We can report suspected forgery, yes.”
“Do it.”
“You should be the complainant.”
May you like
“Then tell me where.”
Julia gave me the number for the county police non-emergency desk and said she would send an attorney to the property.
