Chương 5
“Margaret has an agenda.”
“Which is?”
“To turn you against me.”
I stared at him.
He actually seemed to believe the sentence might work.
I picked up the phone.
“Where should I meet you?”
Margaret gave me an address in Midtown and asked me to bring identification but not the original trust documents.
“We already have certified copies,” she said.
“Do not transport the originals unnecessarily.”
“Understood.”
“And Nora?”
“Yes?”
“Bring independent counsel if you have someone.”
Gavin barked a laugh.
“She doesn’t.”
Margaret did not respond to him.
The call ended.
For a moment, only the sprinkler hissed.
Then Gavin said, “You’re not going.”
“I am.”
“You don’t have a lawyer.”
“I can hire one.”
“With what?”
He regretted it immediately.
I saw it.
So did he.
I folded my arms.
“There it is.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It is exactly what you meant.”
“Nora, listen.”
“No.”
“You have no idea what kind of people you’re dealing with.”
“Apparently I married one.”
He stared at me.
The line was sharper than I intended.
I did not feel clever afterward.
I felt tired.
Gavin’s face softened.
For the first time since the office, he looked less like an executive managing damage and more like the man who used to make terrible scrambled eggs on Sunday mornings because he knew I hated cooking before coffee.
“I didn’t start out trying to control you.”
The admission frightened me because it sounded almost honest.
I said nothing.
He leaned against the patio railing.
“When Mia was born, you were exhausted.”
“So were you.”
“I was scared.”
I watched him.
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
He laughed quietly.
“Money, mostly.”
“You were making seven figures.”
“I was making good money, yes.”
“Seven figures.”
“On paper.”
“What does that mean?”
“Stock, deferred compensation, bonuses tied up in things you never cared about.”
“I cared when our daughter needed medication yesterday.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“No, you keep saying that.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you pay?”
He looked at the wet boards beneath his shoes.
“I panicked.”
“About four hundred dollars?”
“About accounts being watched.”
That stopped me.
“Watched by whom?”
He pressed both hands against his face.
When he lowered them, he looked older.
“The company.”
“Why?”
He shook his head.
“Forget it.”
“Why?”
“Nora, not everything is connected.”
“It was connected enough for you to tell your assistant you’d use company money for a Porsche.”
“That wasn’t real.”
“The necklace is real.”
His expression closed.
I saw the exact moment the honest version of Gavin retreated.
“Camila bought that herself.”
I almost laughed.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“She has family money.”
“Then why did you tell me you gave it to her?”
“I said I gave her gifts.”
“So did you give her the necklace or not?”
He looked away.
That was answer enough.
I went inside.
He followed me through the kitchen.
“What are you going to tell Margaret?”
“The truth.”
“Which truth?”
I turned.
He had made it sound like a philosophical question.
I hated him for that.
“The one where I don’t know what my husband has been doing with money for years.”
His eyes hardened.
“If you tell them that, they’ll assume the worst.”
“Maybe they should.”
“About you too.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“You signed tax returns.”
My stomach dropped.
He saw it happen.
“Our joint returns?”
“Yes.”
“You told me where to sign.”
“And you signed.”
“What’s on them?”
“Nothing illegal.”
“You answered too fast.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I’m saying if somebody decides to turn this into a forensic circus, they’ll look at everything.”
“Good.”
“You think that because you don’t understand exposure.”
“Stop telling me what I understand.”
“You benefited from my income.”
“I stayed home with our child because we decided I would.”
“We decided?”
I went still.
He heard himself.
For years, he had described my leaving work as our decision.
Now the truth came out because he was angry.
He saw my face and stepped forward.
“Nora, that’s not what I meant.”
“You wanted me home.”
“You agreed.”
“You called me selfish every time I talked about going back.”
“Mia was little.”
“You scheduled business dinners on the nights I had interviews.”
“That happened once.”
“Three times.”
His mouth closed.
The first time, he had claimed he forgot.
The second time, a client had flown in unexpectedly.
The third time, he had simply said his career paid the mortgage.
I had canceled the interview before he finished the sentence.
I walked upstairs.
He followed until I reached Mia’s room.
Then he stopped at the doorway.
I pulled the firebox from beneath the chair.
“You’re taking that?”
“Yes.”
“Margaret told you not to.”
“She told me not to take the originals to the meeting.”
I opened the box and removed my passport.
Then I took my father’s letter and slipped it into my purse.
Gavin watched every movement.
“What exactly did he write about me?”
I looked up.
Fear again.
This time, unmistakable.
“Why?”
“Because your father hated me.”
“He wrote that you asked unusual questions about Summit Crest.”
Gavin’s face lost color.
That was not the reaction of a man hearing old family criticism.
That was recognition.
“What questions?”
“You tell me.”
He stepped into the room.
“Nora, give me the letter.”
“No.”
“I’m asking you as your husband.”
“That sentence has stopped opening doors for you.”
His nostrils flared.
For a second, I thought he might grab my purse.
Instead, he stepped back.
“Fine.”
The word came out flat.
“Go meet Margaret.”
“Let her fill your head with whatever story your father constructed.”
I zipped my purse.
“And while you’re there, ask her why your father kept control hidden from you.”
I paused.
Gavin saw he had finally landed something.
He continued more quietly.
“Ask yourself why a loving father leaves his daughter fifty-one percent of a major company and doesn’t tell her.”
“That’s between me and him.”
“He’s dead.”
May you like
The cruelty was casual.
I flinched anyway.
