Chương 6
Adrian.
Sophie saw the name.
“Want me to answer?”
“No.”
“I could pretend to be a federal agent.”
“That would improve everything.”
“I have range.”
I let the call go to voicemail.
Two minutes later, a message appeared.
We need to talk before you do anything else.
I read it twice.
Then another followed.
Please.
The second message bothered me more.
Adrian did not say please when he believed he still had authority.
Sophie watched my face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
“He wants to talk.”
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say I was going to.”
“You’re thinking about it.”
I picked up the phone.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because refusing to talk isn’t the same thing as having boundaries.”
“That sounds suspiciously mature.”
“I’m having an exhausting week.”
She slid off the counter.
“Fine.”
She hugged me suddenly.
Sophie rarely announced affection.
She collided with it.
“Just don’t let him make you feel crazy.”
I closed my eyes against her hair.
“I’ll try.”
“That means he can.”
“That means I’m human.”
She pulled back.
“I hate that answer.”
“So do I.”
I texted Adrian that I would meet him at a coffee shop in Winnetka at three.
Not the house.
Not his office.
Somewhere public enough to keep us from becoming the worst versions of ourselves.
He arrived twelve minutes early.
I knew because I arrived ten minutes early and saw him already seated in the back corner with a coffee untouched in front of him.
He had changed clothes since the previous night.
No tie.
Gray sweater.
Dark trousers.
He looked like the Adrian I had known before Whitmore Capital had acquired floors, assistants, drivers, and people who laughed before he finished jokes.
For a second, the sight of him caused an old reflex in my chest.
Not love exactly.
Recognition.
Then he stood.
“Thanks for coming.”
I sat across from him.
“You have half an hour.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Do you have somewhere to be?”
“Yes.”
That was not entirely true.
I was learning that boundaries did not always need impressive destinations.
He wrapped both hands around his coffee.
“Martin asked me about Northline.”
I said nothing.
“So you know.”
“I know the review found the invoices.”
“Vanessa hired them.”
“Did you approve it?”
He looked toward the window.
Outside, a woman in a bright green coat struggled to fold a stroller while a toddler kicked the glass door from inside the café.
“Adrian.”
“Yes.”
The word came quietly.
My stomach tightened.
“You approved two hundred forty thousand dollars to her brother’s company?”
“I approved a vendor.”
“You knew who owned it.”
“Yes.”
I sat back.
“Why?”
“He had experience.”
“In what?”
“Market-entry strategy.”
“Did anyone else bid?”
His mouth tightened.
“This isn’t a deposition.”
“No, in a deposition you’d have a lawyer telling you when not to answer.”
“Claire.”
“Did anyone else bid?”
“No.”
I looked down at the table.
There was a ring left by somebody’s coffee cup, brown and imperfect.
“How could you be that stupid?”
He flinched.
The word was crueler than I usually allowed myself.
I did not take it back.
“He was recommended by Vanessa.”
“That makes it worse.”
“I know how it looks.”
“You keep saying things like that.”
“Like what?”
“How it looks.”
I leaned forward.
“This isn’t about appearance.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His fingers tightened around the cup.
“I didn’t steal money.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“I didn’t receive anything from Northline.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“And I didn’t approve a fake invoice.”
“Then what work did they perform?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation frightened me more than his anger had.
“You don’t know.”
“They produced reports.”
“You read them?”
“Not personally.”
“Who did?”
“Vanessa.”
I closed my eyes for one second.
“Of course.”
“Her team used them.”
“Has the team confirmed that?”
He did not answer.
There it was.
The first real crack.
“Adrian.”
“Martin is looking into it.”
“You approved almost a quarter million dollars to your girlfriend’s brother and never checked what he delivered.”
He looked around sharply.
“Keep your voice down.”
I laughed.
It came out harsher than I intended.
“That is what concerns you?”
“People know me here.”
“Then maybe you should have thought about that before bringing Vanessa to Bellweather House.”
His face hardened.
“You wanted to meet in public.”
“I wanted neutral ground.”
“There is no neutral ground anymore.”
“No.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
The toddler near the door had begun crying because his mother had finally succeeded in folding the stroller.
A barista called out a name nobody claimed.
Adrian rubbed his forehead.
“I made a mistake.”
“This is more than one mistake.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“I know.”
Something in his voice made me pause.
Not remorse exactly.
Fear.
“You’re scared.”
He looked away.
“Martin thinks the independent directors may suspend me while they review everything.”
I had known that was possible.
Hearing it aloud still made my chest tighten.
“Temporarily?”
“That’s what they’re discussing.”
“And Vanessa?”
“Placed on administrative leave this morning.”
I stared at him.
“Does she know about the divorce?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I told her.”
The obvious answer still hurt.
I hated that.
I hated the small, involuntary pain of imagining them discussing the ending of my marriage together.
Adrian saw it.
For once, he did not look relieved.
He looked ashamed.
“She’s angry,” he said.
“At me?”
“At everyone.”
“That sounds efficient.”
He almost smiled, then stopped himself.
“She says Martin is using the review to push me out.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know what I believe.”
That was new too.
Adrian had built an entire career out of believing things loudly enough that other people adopted them.
I watched him turn the paper sleeve around his coffee cup.
“Why did you ask me here?”
He looked at me.
“Because I need you to withdraw the review request.”
I should have expected it.
Still, something inside me went cold.
“There it is.”
“Claire, listen.”
“No.”
May you like
“You said you wanted the truth.”
“I do.”
