Chương 4
“And the wedding?”
He looked back at her.
Sophia waited.
He said, “What about it?”
“Was marrying me part of calming them?”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“No. I loved you.”
“Past tense?”
“I love you.”
“Then answer the question.”
His breathing changed. Sophia had heard that breath when he lied about small things—whether he had forgotten to make a reservation, whether he liked a painting she had bought, whether his mother had insulted Sophia at lunch.
He said, “The marriage made the partnership look permanent.”
Richard turned away.
Sophia stared at Daniel. “To the lenders.”
“To everyone.”
“You let me walk down the aisle without telling me my marriage was being used as a credit signal.”
“That is not what it was.”
“Then what was it?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Naomi sat at the edge of the bed and began removing rose petals from the train of the stained gown. She placed each petal in a small pile beside her, an unnecessary task that somehow made the room bearable.
Daniel took one step closer to Sophia. “I wanted to tell you after the honeymoon.”
The words were so poor, so plainly selfish, that Sophia almost respected them.
“Why after?”
“Because I thought I could fix it before then.”
“With my trust.”
“With the agreement both families negotiated.”
“My mother’s shares funded that trust.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Sophia, I never wanted your money.”
“You wanted what it did.”
He looked down.
Richard spoke from the window. “That is enough.”
Sophia turned sharply. “You do not decide when it is enough.”
Her father’s jaw moved.
Daniel looked between them and seemed to understand, perhaps for the first time, that Richard had not entered the ballroom as a rescuer. He had entered because Sophia had asked him to wait nearby with a weapon she hoped not to use.
“What did you sign?” Daniel asked her.
“The termination instruction.”
“When?”
“This afternoon.”
“Before the ceremony?”
“After I received the auditor’s email.”
He stared at her. “You married me after signing it?”
“I gave you a chance to explain.”
“You had attorneys downstairs.”
“You had eleven months.”
Daniel sat heavily on the arm of a chair. His shirt cuffs were still fastened with the silver links Sophia had given him for his birthday.
“Were you testing me?”
“I was trying to believe you.”
“That sounds like a test.”
Sophia felt anger rise, hot and clean. “Your mother threw wine at me, you stood beside her, and your concern is whether I conducted the conversation fairly?”
“I am trying to understand what happened.”
“So am I.”
A soft knock came at the suite door.
One of the attorneys opened it a few inches. A hotel security manager stood outside with a woman from guest relations. The security manager asked whether Sophia wished to file a complaint regarding the assault in the ballroom.
Everyone looked at her.
Sophia imagined uniformed officers arriving, Margaret being questioned in the hotel lobby, more phones rising, more clips. She imagined doing nothing and allowing the evening to be described as an unfortunate family dispute.
“What happens if I say yes?” she asked.
The security manager answered carefully. “We would preserve the hotel footage and contact law enforcement. An officer would take your statement. You may also choose to make a report later.”
“Preserve the footage either way.”
“We already have.”
“I’m not making a report tonight.”
Richard turned from the window. “Sophia.”
“Not tonight.”
The security manager nodded. The woman from guest relations asked whether Sophia needed medical attention or another room.
“No,” Sophia said. “But the ballroom staff should be paid through the scheduled end of the event.”
The woman blinked. “Of course.”
“And the musicians.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Please don’t make them stay.”
“We’ll handle it.”
When the door closed, Daniel said, “You’re worried about paying the orchestra?”
Sophia looked at him. “Someone should be.”
He had no answer.
Richard’s phone rang. He checked the screen and silenced it.
“It is the lead bank,” he said. “They received notice.”
Daniel stood. “You notified them tonight?”
“The agreement required it.”
“You’re going to trigger a default.”
“The false certifications triggered the default.”
Daniel looked at Sophia. “There are thousands of employees.”
“I know.”
“Then you know what happens if the support disappears.”
“I know what happens if it remains under false terms.”
“My mother was trying to protect the company.”
“She was trying to protect control.”
“You don’t understand what that company means to her.”
Sophia glanced at the stained dress. “I think she explained her values clearly.”
Daniel’s eyes filled, but he did not cry. He looked exhausted, younger than thirty-two, and for a moment she saw the man who had brought soup to her apartment after her mother’s funeral because she had forgotten to eat. That man had existed. So had this one.
Both truths made the room harder to stand in.
He said, “Come home with me.”
“No.”
“We should not decide anything tonight.”
“You decided things for months without me.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You concealed financial information from the person whose assets guaranteed your company.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I did not throw the wine.”
“No. You asked me not to make it worse.”
His face tightened as though she had struck him.
Sophia reached for the wedding ring on her left hand.
The band resisted at her knuckle. Her fingers were swollen from heat, nerves, and the champagne she had barely tasted. She twisted it once, then stopped.
“I can’t get it off.”
Daniel stepped forward instinctively. “Let me.”
She pulled her hand away.
Naomi went to the minibar, took out a small bottle of olive oil from a room-service condiment tray, and handed it over.
“Hotels prepare for everything,” she said.
Sophia rubbed the oil around her finger. The ring slid free.
She held it in her palm.
May you like
Daniel looked at it but did not extend his hand.
“Keep it for now,” Sophia said. “Your lawyer can discuss it with mine.”
