Chương 9
“No?”
“No.”
His tone sharpened slightly.
“I’m the person who may have paid millions for shares the sellers did not have clean authority to sell.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Fair.”
“Also, she’s the woman I planned to marry.”
The correction was small.
Planned.
Past tense hiding inside a verb.
I looked at the laundry room door.
“Are you calling to ask me to withdraw the claim?”
“No.”
That surprised me enough to answer too quickly.
“Then what do you want?”
“The truth.”
“I don’t have all of it.”
“I know.”
“What did Madison say when you asked if there was anything else?”
He was silent long enough that I thought the call had dropped.
Then he said, “She told me she used some of the money.”
My stomach tightened.
“What money?”
“Distributions allocated to you.”
“How much?”
“She doesn’t know exactly.”
“Everybody suddenly has terrible accounting skills.”
“She says some went toward your mother’s treatment and some toward business expenses.”
“I already know that.”
“There was more.”
The dryer stopped.
The sudden silence made his next sentence feel louder.
“She used part of it for herself.”
I sat on the edge of a laundry basket.
“For what?”
“She said living expenses at first.”
“At first?”
“Then the wedding.”
I stared at the detergent bottles on the shelf.
One had a bright yellow cap.
Another was almost empty.
“How much?”
“About sixty thousand dollars.”
The number did not feel real immediately.
My sister had spent money attributed to me on the wedding I was being invited to attend.
I pressed my fingers against my mouth.
Nathan continued carefully.
“She says she intended to repay it after the acquisition closed.”
“With what?”
“Her proceeds from the sale.”
“So she took my money while waiting for money from selling my shares.”
“I understand how that sounds.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“I think I do.”
His voice changed then.
Less controlled.
Not louder.
More human.
“I was supposed to marry her Saturday.”
I heard him exhale.
“I’m not having a good day either.”
That stopped me.
For the first time, he ceased being an extension of the transaction.
He became a man sitting somewhere with his wedding clothes probably hanging in a closet and guests flying into town while lawyers examined documents bearing a stranger’s forged signature.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
The words felt strange.
“So am I.”
“Are you canceling?”
“I don’t know.”
“That seems like something you should know.”
“So does whether your sister committed fraud against the company I work for.”
I flinched.
He noticed.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re right.”
“I’m angry.”
“So am I.”
“That doesn’t make either of us accurate.”
I almost smiled.
“You sound like Rebecca.”
“Is that your attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Mine dislikes her already.”
“She’ll be thrilled.”
There was a pause.
Then Nathan said, “Are you coming?”
“To the wedding?”
“If there is one.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you should.”
The suggestion unsettled me.
“Why?”
“Because Madison keeps making decisions based on what she thinks you’ll do without asking you.”
I stood again.
“That isn’t a good enough reason.”
“No.”
He hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
I waited.
“Your father asked me this morning whether the acquisition could be completed if you agreed to sign a release.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you say?”
“I said I would not discuss it without counsel.”
“Good.”
“He looked relieved.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
The old risk analyst part of me moved before the sister did.
“Relieved that you wouldn’t discuss it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“That’s what I’m trying to understand.”
I began pacing the narrow laundry room.
“If Dad wanted the deal to close, he should want you negotiating with me.”
“Exactly.”
“So either he doesn’t want me agreeing quickly.”
“Or he doesn’t want us comparing information.”
I stopped.
The sentence hung between us.
“What information?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan sounded tired again.
“But there is one thing Madison told me after we argued.”
“What?”
“She said your father had been trying to stop the sale for months.”
I frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
“It didn’t to me either.”
“He signed the deal.”
“Yes.”
“He certified ownership.”
“Yes.”
“So why would he stop it?”
Nathan was quiet.
Then he said, “Maybe because the sale would force someone to look closely enough to find you.”
The laundry room suddenly felt too warm.
I opened the door.
Lena looked up from the kitchen.
My face must have told her something because she stopped speaking to Marco mid-sentence.
“Nathan.”
“Yes.”
“Did my father know your company would verify the ownership history?”
“He would have known there would be diligence.”
“And Madison?”
“Yes.”
“Then why risk it?”
“That is the question.”
I looked at Lena.
She raised her eyebrows.
I turned away.
“I’m coming Saturday.”
Nathan did not answer at first.
“To the wedding?”
“To whatever is happening Saturday.”
He gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
“That makes two of us.”
When the call ended, Lena followed me into the hallway.
“What?”
I told her.
She crossed her arms.
“So now you’re definitely going.”
“Yes.”
“Because?”
“Because this isn’t only about forged signatures anymore.”
“What do you think it’s about?”
“I don’t know.”
She watched me for a long moment.
Then she said, “That answer sounded honest.”
I drove home after ten.
The wedding invitation was still on my refrigerator.
I took it down and set it on the kitchen counter.
For the first time, I examined the back.
There was a tiny handwritten note near the bottom edge in blue ink.
Not my father’s handwriting.
Madison’s.
I had missed it because it was partly hidden beneath the printed reception card.
Please come even if you hate us.
I stood there holding the invitation until my phone buzzed again.
This time it was my father.
I let it ring.
Then a voicemail notification appeared.
His message lasted eleven seconds.
“Claire, don’t trust what Madison tells you about the sale.”
He paused.
May you like
Then, very quietly, he added, “And don’t trust me either.”
I played the voicemail three times.
