Chương 10
She wanted to speak with him.
Daniel refused.
Then changed his mind.
He told Emily that evening.
They were cooking dinner in Emily’s apartment.
Daniel was chopping onions badly.
“You’re going?” Emily asked.
“I think so.”
She stirred pasta.
“Okay.”
He stopped chopping.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know.”
Emily looked at him.
“You’re allowed to talk to your mother.”
“She hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“She tried to stop us from getting married.”
“Yes.”
“You’re really okay with this?”
“No.”
Daniel set the knife down.
Emily turned off the burner.
“I don’t like it,” she said. “I’m afraid she’ll manipulate you. I’m afraid you’ll come back confused. I’m afraid you’ll feel sorry for her and I’ll resent you for it.”
Daniel nodded.
“Okay.”
“But I also don’t want to become another person who tells you which relationships you’re allowed to have.”
He looked at her.
“That’s annoyingly mature.”
“I hate it.”
He smiled.
She pointed toward the onion.
“You’re murdering that.”
“I’m processing feelings.”
“You’re processing it into uneven cubes.”
The meeting happened in Arthur’s attorney’s office.
Emily did not attend.
Daniel arrived ten minutes early and spent nine of them standing in the hallway because he could not make himself go inside.
When Victoria entered, he almost failed to recognize her.
Not physically.
She looked the same.
That was the strange part.
Same careful hair.
Same tailored coat.
Same pearl earrings she had worn to his college graduation.
He had expected guilt to alter her face.
It had not.
“Daniel.”
“Mom.”
They sat across a conference table.
For a while neither spoke.
Victoria folded her gloves together.
“You look thin.”
Daniel laughed once.
“Really?”
“I’m your mother.”
“That’s the problem.”
Her face changed.
“Daniel.”
“No. You wanted to talk.”
She looked down.
“I made a terrible mistake.”
He waited.
She did not continue.
“What mistake?”
Victoria lifted her eyes.
“Following Emily outside.”
Daniel felt something harden.
“That’s not the mistake.”
“I was angry.”
“You planned it.”
“I planned to speak to her.”
“You asked about the lock.”
Her lips tightened.
“I wanted privacy.”
“You blocked the door.”
Victoria looked away.
Daniel leaned back.
There it was.
Not a confession.
Not yet.
But not denial either.
“Why?”
She pressed her hands together.
“She was going to change everything.”
“She was going to marry me.”
“Exactly.”
Daniel stared.
Victoria caught herself.
“No. That isn’t what I meant.”
“It is.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
She breathed in slowly.
“Your father left certain things in my care.”
“The property.”
“Among other things.”
“You wanted to sell it.”
“I needed to.”
“Why?”
Victoria looked offended by the question.
“Because maintaining a house nobody uses is idiotic.”
“That’s not why.”
She said nothing.
Daniel watched her.
He had learned, through therapy and exhaustion, to survive silence.
His mother had not learned how to survive his.
Finally she said, “The foundation had losses.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“Not losses exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
Victoria looked toward the attorney seated at the far end of the room.
The attorney said nothing.
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“Mom.”
“We made commitments.”
“What commitments?”
“Programs. Grants.”
“How much?”
“Daniel.”
“How much?”
Victoria’s eyes filled.
He did not move.
“About three million.”
Daniel stared.
The Whitmore Foundation’s annual reports had not shown a three-million-dollar shortfall.
He had served on the board.
“Where?”
“Future commitments.”
“Without board approval?”
Victoria’s silence answered.
Daniel felt cold.
“You promised money the foundation didn’t have.”
“I believed the property sale would cover it.”
“You don’t own Cedar Point outright.”
“I controlled it.”
“Until I married.”
“Yes.”
The word barely left her mouth.
Daniel looked at the table.
The motive was suddenly there.
Not clean greed.
Not hatred of Emily alone.
Fear.
Pride.
Financial misconduct.
A deadline Victoria had created herself.
“If I married Emily, the trustee would review the sale.”
“Yes.”
“And the foundation commitments.”
“Possibly.”
“You thought stopping the wedding would buy time.”
Victoria’s face crumpled slightly.
“I thought she would leave.”
Daniel looked up.
“What?”
“I thought if she believed you didn’t trust her, she might leave.”
His stomach turned.
“How?”
Victoria swallowed.
“I told her you’d always choose the family.”
“You wanted her to think that.”
“I was angry.”
“You wanted her missing long enough for me to doubt her.”
Victoria began to cry.
Daniel had seen his mother cry twice.
At his father’s funeral.
And once, years later, when she accidentally broke one of David’s watches.
He felt the old reflex rise.
Comfort her.
End the discomfort.
Say something kind.
He gripped the edge of the chair.
“Did you block the door?”
Victoria covered her mouth.
“Mom.”
She nodded.
A tiny movement.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Did you take her phone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you disable the location history?”
Another nod.
“Why?”
“So you couldn’t immediately see where she’d been.”
He stared.
“You knew we shared location.”
“Yes.”
“Did you delete the photo?”
“I saw it afterward.”
Daniel stood.
Victoria looked up.
“Daniel, please.”
He turned away.
The attorney spoke for the first time.
“This conversation remains confidential under the conditions we discussed.”
Daniel looked at him.
Then at his mother.
“You didn’t make a mistake.”
Victoria’s face tightened.
“You made decisions.”
“Daniel.”
“One after another.”
“I was terrified.”
“So was Emily.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
Victoria stood.
“I’m trying to tell you why.”
“I know why.”
He looked at her.
“You were afraid of being exposed.”
She flinched.
“You were afraid of losing control of the property. You were afraid people would find out what you did at the foundation. You were afraid Emily was changing my loyalty.”
“That isn’t fair.”
Daniel laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
“You locked her outside on our wedding day.”
Victoria’s eyes filled again.
“I love you.”
“I know.”
That was what hurt.
He picked up his coat.
“I love you too.”
She made a broken sound.
Daniel stopped at the door.
“But I’m done treating that as evidence that we’re safe for each other.”
May you like
He left.
The plea agreement was finalized three weeks later.
