Chương 6
Claire looked down at the planner.
“That sounds like something lawyers say before handing you divorce papers.”
“I’m not a divorce lawyer.”
“You came prepared to dismantle my husband.”
“I came prepared to prevent you from being pressured into signing anything.”
Claire looked at her.
“You knew he might try.”
“I knew he had a reason to.”
The light changed.
Mara drove on.
“What reason?”
“Whitaker Development has a refinancing deadline Monday morning.”
Claire turned toward her.
“And my signature matters.”
“It may.”
“On what?”
“A restructuring agreement tied to several entities connected to the Hartwell properties.”
Claire let out a slow breath.
“So bringing Vanessa home tonight wasn’t just cruelty.”
“I can’t tell you why he chose tonight.”
“But the timing matters.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked out the window again.
A woman was jogging beside a golden retriever.
Two teenagers stood outside a frozen yogurt shop, laughing over something on one of their phones.
The world seemed offensive in its normalcy.
“Where are we going?”
“To a hotel near my office.”
“I don’t want Dominic paying for it.”
“He isn’t.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
Claire frowned.
Mara tapped the steering wheel once.
“The trust still has operating funds.”
Claire went very still.
“You’re saying I have money.”
“I’m saying the trust has money.”
“That sounds like lawyer language too.”
“It is.”
“How much?”
“I’d rather show you the current statements before giving you a number from memory.”
Claire’s mouth tightened.
“You don’t trust your memory?”
“I trust it enough not to gamble with yours.”
That answer stayed with Claire.
Ethan had always made certainty sound like competence.
Mara made caution sound like respect.
The hotel was small, expensive, and quiet in a way that suggested nobody stayed there accidentally.
At the desk, Mara asked for two adjoining rooms.
Claire stopped her.
“One.”
Mara looked over.
“I don’t need supervision.”
“I wasn’t supervising.”
“Then why two?”
“I was staying nearby.”
Claire almost apologized.
The habit rose automatically.
She swallowed it.
“One is fine.”
Mara nodded and changed the reservation without comment.
Claire noticed that too.
Upstairs, the room smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and fabric softener.
There was one framed print above the bed, an abstract collection of blue lines that looked like somebody had dragged a wet brush across paper and charged three hundred dollars for it.
Claire set the planner on the desk.
Her phone buzzed again.
Ethan.
This time she answered.
“Where are you?”
No hello.
No apology.
Claire sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m safe.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
A pause.
His voice changed.
“You left without medication.”
Claire frowned.
“What medication?”
“Your sleep prescription.”
“I haven’t taken it in eight months.”
Another pause.
Small.
Ugly.
“You may need it tonight.”
Claire stared at the wall.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me why my signature is on that guarantee.”
He exhaled.
“We already discussed this.”
“No, you said you didn’t know who signed it.”
“I don’t.”
“You said you told Martin I couldn’t handle financial paperwork.”
“Claire.”
“Did you sign anything pretending to have my authority?”
“No.”
“Did Martin?”
“I told you I don’t know.”
“Did you tell him I consented?”
Silence.
Claire pressed the phone harder against her ear.
“Ethan.”
“I told him you understood the broad structure.”
Her stomach tightened.
“I did not.”
“I know.”
“Then why say that?”
“Because I needed the deal to close.”
The bluntness stunned her.
For a second, neither spoke.
Then Ethan said, “The company employed eighty-three people at the time.”
Claire looked toward the dark window.
There it was.
A number.
A justification.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Find enough people to stand behind so I feel selfish.”
“That’s not fair.”
“No?”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“Those people had mortgages and children and health insurance.”
“So did I stop mattering?”
“I was trying to save everything.”
“You keep saying everything when you mean your company.”
“I mean our life.”
“You didn’t ask what I was willing to risk.”
“You weren’t capable of making that decision then.”
Claire’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“What made me incapable?”
“You were barely functioning.”
“I was grieving.”
“You were depressed.”
“Did a doctor tell you I lacked capacity?”
“No.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Then you decided.”
“I made a judgment.”
“About whether I was allowed to control what belonged to me.”
He went quiet.
Claire heard a cabinet door close on his end.
He was still in the kitchen.
She could picture it without trying.
Ethan standing near the island.
One hand in his pocket.
The house around him.
Their house, possibly.
Hers, possibly.
She hated that uncertainty.
“What happens Monday?”
His silence changed.
Not avoidance this time.
Assessment.
“Who told you?”
“Mara.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“That there’s a refinancing deadline.”
He cursed softly.
Claire had almost never heard him curse.
“What happens if I don’t sign?”
“Nothing you need to worry about tonight.”
She laughed.
It surprised both of them.
“That sentence should be engraved on your tombstone.”
“Claire.”
“What happens?”
“The lender can refuse the extension.”
“And then?”
“We could default on a portion of the debt.”
“How much?”
“About twenty-eight million.”
Claire stopped breathing for a second.
Not because she understood the number.
Because Ethan had once made her feel guilty for spending nine hundred dollars replacing the refrigerator.
“Twenty-eight million dollars.”
“It’s secured debt.”
“With my father’s property.”
“Some of it.”
“How much of it?”
“I don’t know off the top of my head.”
“You knew eighty-three employees four years ago.”
“That’s different.”
“It is.”
He let out a hard breath.
“You’re enjoying this.”
Claire stood.
“What?”
“You finally have someone telling you I’m the villain, and you’re enjoying it.”
The accusation hit because part of her was.
Not the money.
Not his fear.
But the reversal.
For once, he was explaining himself.
For once, she was not the confused one.
May you like
The pleasure embarrassed her.
“I don’t enjoy finding out my husband lied to me.”
