Chương 4
“Confidential from your husband’s lawyer?”
“You’re not his lawyer.”
“No, but somebody should be.”
Ethan pushed back from the table.
“I have the agreement upstairs.”
Madison stepped in front of him.
“You’re not giving him anything.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Madison.”
Her voice dropped.
“If you hand him that agreement, you are done.”
He stared at her.
“With what?”
She glanced at the others.
“With me.”
Nobody moved.
Ethan looked toward the ring beside his plate.
Then he walked around her.
Madison followed him two steps before stopping.
“Fine.”
He kept going.
“Go ahead.”
He reached the stairs.
“Hand strangers every private document we have.”
He did not turn around.
“And when this destroys us, don’t come crawling back pretending you were manipulated.”
His footsteps continued upstairs.
Madison stood with her back to us.
One of the Christmas lights blinked red against her cheek.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked small.
Not innocent.
Not harmless.
Just human-sized.
She reached for her wineglass, discovered it was empty, and set it down again.
Beverly rose quietly.
“I’m going to make coffee.”
Nobody answered.
She went into the kitchen anyway.
The normality of it was almost offensive.
Cupboards opened.
Water ran.
A spoon clinked against ceramic.
Claire sat down beside Rachel and whispered something I could not hear.
Harold wandered toward the window and stared out at the dark driveway.
Madison finally faced me.
“You always hated me.”
I was too tired to defend myself quickly.
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I found you difficult.”
She gave a short laugh.
“That’s Margaret language for hate.”
“No, hate is hate.”
“You never thought I was good enough for him.”
I glanced toward the stairs.
“That stopped being my biggest concern years ago.”
Her face sharpened.
“There.”
“What?”
“That.”
She pointed at me.
“That thing you do where you pretend to be reasonable while you cut someone open.”
I looked at her for several seconds.
There was enough truth in it to hurt.
“I can be cruel.”
She seemed surprised.
“So can you.”
Her surprise disappeared.
“I never pretended otherwise.”
“No.”
That, too, was true.
Beverly returned carrying a tray with five mugs although there were seven people in the room.
She stared at the mugs, counted us, and sighed.
“I forgot two.”
“Leave mine,” Madison said.
Beverly gave her the coffee anyway.
“You look like you need it.”
Madison almost refused, then took the mug.
The absurd little exchange loosened something in my chest.
Beverly handed me another.
It was too hot to drink.
I wrapped my hands around it.
Ethan returned carrying a gray expanding file folder and his laptop.
Madison stared at the folder as if it contained something alive.
He set both in front of Daniel.
“This is everything I have.”
Daniel opened the file.
“Originals?”
“Some.”
“Where are the others?”
“I don’t know.”
Madison looked at the ceiling.
Ethan turned to her.
“Where are they?”
“I filed them.”
“Where?”
“My office.”
“In the house?”
“No.”
He stared at her.
“What office?”
She said nothing.
Ethan’s face emptied.
“What office, Madison?”
She took a slow sip of coffee.
“White Plains.”
“We closed White Plains.”
“We closed your office.”
There was a pause.
Daniel stopped turning pages.
Ethan gripped the back of a chair.
“You kept a second office?”
“I needed somewhere to work.”
“You told me you worked from home.”
“I do.”
“Then what is in White Plains?”
“Records.”
“What records?”
She put down the mug.
“Business records.”
“What business?”
Madison looked around the room as though weighing the cost of each witness.
Then she looked at me.
“The one that actually makes money.”
Ethan laughed once.
It came out almost like a cough.
“What are you talking about?”
She rubbed her thumb along the handle of the mug.
“I started a consulting company last year.”
Daniel’s gaze moved toward me.
The two fake consulting invoices seemed to rise between us without either of us mentioning them.
“What’s it called?” he asked.
Madison did not answer.
Ethan whispered, “No.”
She looked at him.
He opened the laptop so quickly he nearly knocked over his wineglass.
His fingers moved across the keyboard.
Madison reached toward it.
Daniel put one hand on the lid before she could touch it.
“Don’t.”
She pulled back.
Ethan searched for something.
His breathing changed.
“Oh my God.”
I could not see the screen.
“What?”
He turned it toward me.
A company website filled the display.
The design was polished and bland, all white space and smiling professionals in conference rooms.
At the top was the name Alder Strategic Partners.
Below it, in smaller type, was Madison Mercer, Founder and Managing Director.
I looked at her.
“You invoiced the trust through this company.”
She crossed her arms.
“For legitimate services.”
“What services did you provide?”
“Asset strategy.”
Daniel leaned back.
“To Margaret?”
“To the family.”
“Did Margaret retain you?”
“No.”
“Did the trustee approve your invoices?”
Madison’s jaw tightened.
“Ethan approved them.”
Daniel looked at Ethan.
“He isn’t the trustee.”
“He had authority.”
“No,” I said.
Madison’s eyes flashed.
“He acted like he had authority for years because you let him.”
The sentence landed cleanly.
I hated her for it.
I hated myself more because she was right.
Every time Ethan requested extra money, I had approved it.
Every time he described a project vaguely, I had avoided questions because questions felt like distrust.
I had made access easy, and then easier, until my generosity became indistinguishable from permission in everyone’s mind except the law.
“That still doesn’t make those invoices valid,” Daniel said.
Madison turned toward him.
“You don’t know what work I did.”
“Then show us.”
“I don’t have to show you anything.”
Ethan stared at the website.
“How long?”
She did not answer.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Fourteen months.”
“And the clients?”
“Private.”
“Besides us.”
Her silence was different this time.
Not defiant.
Calculating.
Ethan closed the laptop.
“There aren’t any.”
Madison’s face froze.
May you like
He stood.
“There aren’t any clients, are there?”
