Chương 7
“He put me in the middle of this.”
“Yes.”
I turned around.
“You agree?”
“He believed he was protecting you and the company.”
“That doesn’t make it fair.”
“No.”
“He should have told me.”
“Perhaps.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Several times.”
That surprised me.
“What did he say?”
Margaret almost smiled.
“He told me I charged too much to lecture him.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it.
It broke halfway through and became something else.
I pressed my fingers against my eyes.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Margaret pushed the tissue box closer.
This time I took two.
When I sat again, she gave me a minute before speaking.
“There is another complication.”
“Of course there is.”
“That sounded like Arthur.”
“I’m not sure whether to be insulted.”
“He would have been pleased.”
I wiped beneath my eyes.
“What complication?”
“Curtis has already contacted the trustee’s office twice this morning.”
“He was sitting here.”
“The first call came before he arrived.”
“What did he want?”
“To confirm whether reconciliation would cure the clause.”
My stomach sank.
“He knew?”
“He apparently suspected there might be some condition after receiving the notice packet.”
“So he came in knowing there was a problem.”
“Not the details.”
“And the second call?”
“During the meeting.”
I stared at her.
“He was sitting across from us.”
“He sent a text to one of our associates asking whether a signed statement from you would be enough to prove reconciliation.”
I looked toward the conference-room door.
“He was planning it while you were reading the will.”
“Yes.”
I leaned back slowly.
For ten years, I had admired Curtis’s ability to move quickly under pressure.
At restaurants, airports, business dinners, emergencies, he always seemed to find the efficient path before anyone else.
I had mistaken speed for competence.
Now it looked like appetite.
“What happens if I refuse to reconcile?”
“The trustee completes the bad-faith determination.”
“And then?”
“If the condition is sustained, Curtis receives the five-million-dollar distribution according to the trust schedule.”
“And I become the beneficiary.”
“Yes.”
“Can he challenge it?”
“Almost certainly.”
“Will he?”
Margaret gave me a look.
“Almost certainly.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“I don’t want a war.”
“No sensible person does.”
“I don’t want his father’s company.”
“You would not run it personally unless you chose to pursue that role and were approved under the governance provisions.”
“I don’t know anything about real estate.”
“You know more than you think.”
“That sounds like something people say before giving someone a terrible responsibility.”
“It often is.”
I looked at her.
“What if I walk away?”
“From what?”
“All of it.”
“You can disclaim an inheritance.”
“And then Curtis gets it?”
“Not automatically.”
“Who does?”
“The alternate charitable and employee-benefit provisions would control.”
That surprised me.
“So if I refuse, he still doesn’t get it.”
“No.”
A long silence passed.
Arthur had closed every easy door.
I could almost hear him saying that easy doors made lazy people.
“I need somewhere to live,” I said.
Margaret’s face changed.
The lawyer disappeared for a second and a woman who had known me for years looked back.
“You should have called.”
“I didn’t know I could.”
“You could have.”
“I thought everyone around Arthur belonged to Curtis now.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“No, Vanessa.”
I looked down because that hurt more than it should have.
Margaret reached for a phone.
“There is a furnished apartment owned by one of the trust entities.”
I straightened.
“I’m not taking a free apartment.”
“Good.”
She put the phone down.
“Because I wasn’t offering one.”
I blinked.
“You can lease it at the documented employee rate until the estate matter is resolved.”
“I’m not an employee.”
“You are a potential beneficiary with a security concern.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It sounds accurate.”
“How much?”
She named a number that was less than the motel.
I stared at her.
“That’s suspiciously reasonable.”
“The building was purchased in 1989.”
“That explains everything.”
“Arthur would be offended by your tone.”
“He was offended by most tones.”
This time Margaret smiled.
The brief humor left as quickly as it came.
“I need you to understand something else.”
“What?”
“If Curtis contacts you, preserve the messages.”
“I’m not spying on him.”
“You don’t need to.”
“Then why save them?”
“Because intent now matters legally.”
My phone buzzed inside my purse.
Both of us looked at it.
I did not have to check the screen to know.
It buzzed again.
Then again.
I pulled it out.
Three messages from Curtis waited.
Please don’t leave the building.
We need to fix this together.
I love you.
I stared at the last one.
For ten years, those three words had been enough to make me soften.
This time they looked strangely incomplete.
Margaret watched my face.
“Is it him?”
I nodded.
Another message appeared.
I made a terrible mistake.
Then another.
Please let me explain.
I locked the screen.
“Do I answer?”
“That is your decision.”
“What would you do?”
“I’m your lawyer only in a limited advisory capacity right now.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Margaret was quiet for several seconds.
Then she said, “I would decide what I wanted before letting someone frightened decide it for me.”
I put the phone facedown on the table.
For the first time since security had walked me into the rain, I did not feel abandoned.
I felt something more uncomfortable.
I had a choice.
And somewhere downstairs, Curtis was waiting to find out whether I still loved him enough to save him.
I did not go downstairs.
Curtis called six times while Margaret arranged the apartment paperwork, and I let every call die against the inside of my purse.
May you like
By the time I left the building, the lobby had thinned into the slow midday rhythm of delivery carts, office workers carrying salads, and two men arguing politely over a rideshare pickup.
I took the service elevator to the parking garage because Margaret’s assistant said Curtis was still near the main entrance.
