Chương 9
“What did she say?”
He turned the screen toward me.
Tell Emily her father has been lying to her too.
My chest tightened.
Below it, another message appeared.
Ask Richard what happened to the Whitmore file from 2024.
Dad saw the screen.
All color left his face.
Mom noticed before anyone else.
“Richard?”
He did not answer.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
Something in his expression frightened me more than Linda’s message.
Not guilt exactly.
Recognition.
“What file?”
He glanced toward the basement corridor.
Then back at me.
“In 2024, Howard’s company nearly lost one of our largest property contracts.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Why?”
Dad swallowed.
“Because we discovered irregular billing.”
Mom went very still.
“What kind of irregular billing?”
“Charges that should not have been there.”
“Fraud?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what did you say?”
Dad looked at Daniel.
“Howard said it was an accounting error.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“And you believed him?”
“I believed there wasn’t enough evidence to accuse him of more.”
I stared at Dad.
“What happened to the file?”
He looked at me.
“I closed the review.”
“Why?”
His silence lasted too long.
Mom’s voice dropped.
“Richard.”
Dad rubbed the back of his neck.
“Because Howard asked me to.”
Daniel looked stunned.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Dad’s eyes moved toward mine.
“He said exposing the discrepancy would destroy his company.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you buried it.”
Dad looked away.
For the first time all night, my father seemed ashamed.
“Because he told me his son was about to propose to my daughter.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Daniel’s face seemed to empty one feature at a time.
“My father knew I was going to propose?”
Dad looked at him.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He asked me whether I would object.”
Daniel stared.
I felt something cold move through my chest.
“You knew too?”
Dad’s eyes shifted to me.
“No.”
“You knew Daniel was planning to propose.”
“I suspected.”
“That isn’t what you just said.”
“Howard told me Daniel was considering it.”
Daniel took a step toward him.
“I never told him that.”
Dad frowned.
“What?”
“I never told my father I was going to propose.”
The basement alarm gave a distant electronic chirp somewhere below us.
Nobody reacted to it.
Daniel looked at me.
“I bought the ring without telling either of them.”
My fingers closed around the ring automatically.
Dad’s forehead tightened.
“Then how did Howard know?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Mom sat down slowly.
“That matters.”
Marcus’s radio crackled again.
The security guard reported that Linda was still inside the archive room.
Police were less than five minutes away.
Dad nodded to Marcus, but his attention stayed on Daniel.
“When did you buy the ring?”
“October.”
“The billing review was in September.”
Daniel stared at him.
“I started looking in August.”
“You said nobody knew.”
“Nobody was supposed to.”
A terrible little possibility opened in my mind.
“Your mother?”
Daniel looked at me.
“What?”
“Did she know you were shopping?”
He hesitated.
“I don’t think so.”
“That means maybe.”
“She has access to my family phone plan.”
Dad’s expression sharpened.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Daniel rubbed both hands over his face.
“She once asked why I had been calling a jeweler.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“Before I proposed.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“That it was none of her business.”
“Did she know which jeweler?”
Daniel nodded reluctantly.
“The number was on the statement.”
Mom muttered, “Good grief.”
I looked at Dad.
“So Howard may have known because Linda knew.”
Dad gave a slow nod.
Daniel paced two steps and stopped.
“Why would they use that to make you close a billing review?”
Dad’s mouth hardened.
“It wasn’t phrased as leverage.”
“How was it phrased?”
“As a request.”
“That magically included my relationship.”
“Daniel.”
“No.”
His voice rose.
“You protected my father’s company because he brought up me marrying your daughter.”
“I protected your father from an accusation I could not prove.”
“You had enough to open a review.”
“Yes.”
“And then you shut it.”
“Yes.”
“Because of me.”
Dad did not answer quickly enough.
Daniel laughed once, bitterly.
“That’s incredible.”
Mom looked at my father.
“Richard, what exactly were the irregular charges?”
Dad rubbed his jaw.
“Maintenance invoices.”
“For work that wasn’t done?”
“Some work was done.”
“Some?”
Dad looked increasingly uncomfortable.
“There were duplicate billings and vendor markups that didn’t match the contracts.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
Mom’s voice hardened.
“How much?”
“About two hundred and forty thousand across several properties.”
Daniel stopped moving.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“That isn’t an accounting typo.”
“No.”
“Did Howard repay it?”
“Not directly.”
“What does that mean?”
“We renegotiated fees over the next year.”
“So you let him make it disappear gradually.”
Dad looked at me.
“I made sure the company was made whole.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
My voice shook.
I hated that it did.
Dad looked at me as if I had struck him.
I stepped away.
“For months, Linda has treated us like some embarrassing family she had to tolerate, and meanwhile you were covering for hers.”
“I wasn’t covering for Linda.”
“You were protecting Howard.”
“I was protecting a business relationship.”
“And me.”
Dad said nothing.
“That’s what you were protecting, right?”
His silence answered.
I looked down at my ring.
Suddenly every expensive flower sample, every dinner, every polite family photograph seemed contaminated by negotiations none of us had known were happening.
Mom turned to Dad.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“When?”
“Afterward.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying you know.”
Dad closed his mouth.
Marcus looked as if he would rather be anywhere else in Chicago.
Daniel stared toward the basement door.
“My parents knew you had something on my father.”
Dad shook his head.
“Howard knew.”
“You think Linda didn’t?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
A hard laugh escaped Daniel.
“She knew enough to mention a file from 2024.”
