Chương 10
“Then tell me what response would help.”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur’s voice lowered. “You usually know.”
The familiarity in the words irritated her.
“You do not know what I usually do.”
“No. I suppose I don’t.”
Kesha sat at her desk.
Through the phone came the faint sound of traffic and a hotel door closing somewhere near him.
“What happened to your position?” she asked.
“The board appointed an interim chair. I remain chief executive for now.”
“For now?”
“My father is gathering votes to remove me.”
“Because you gave investigators the documents.”
“Yes.”
“Will he succeed?”
“He might.”
Kesha turned a pen between her fingers.
Arthur had spent his adult life preparing to run Brooks Consolidated. Losing the position would not equal what she had endured, but it was not nothing.
“Why did the company invite Blue Arc to bid?” she asked.
“I’m trying to determine that.”
“You said you would get the record.”
“I will.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
He did.
The procurement request had been initiated by Richard’s office. Attached to it was a confidential note recommending that Blue Arc be drawn into negotiations before the end of the year. The note described Kesha as “personally vulnerable to access considerations.”
Arthur sent the document to Kesha’s attorney and the Brooks board investigators.
He also sent it to Kesha with a message.
I think he planned to use the contract to control contact before you arrived.
Kesha read the sentence three times.
Richard had not merely hidden the children. He had continued monitoring her, waiting for a moment when business dependence might make her easier to manage. The bid was not coincidence. It was leverage prepared before her letter reached the estate.
Elena advised preserving the document and saying nothing publicly.
Harold advised the same.
Maya wanted to release it.
“He called you an extortionist while planning to place your company in his debt,” she said.
“Releasing it could harm the investigation.”
“It could also stop him from defining the story.”
“The children are still inside the story.”
“They are inside it whether we speak or not.”
Kesha paced the living room of her townhouse while rain struck the windows. The children were upstairs doing homework. Arthur’s third supervised visit had ended an hour earlier.
He had brought no gifts again. Instead, he helped Leo build a bridge from wooden blocks, listened to Sophie describe an argument with a classmate, and allowed Lily to braid a short section of his hair before admitting it was too short.
Noah had spent most of the visit reading on the opposite couch.
When Arthur left, Noah asked when he was coming back.
Kesha had noticed.
She had also noticed Arthur checking the time twice, then apologizing because he worried the children would interpret it as impatience. He had shown up nine minutes early to every meeting. He had never promised a phone call without making it.
Consistency was beginning to work, which made the outside conflict more dangerous. If Richard’s scandal swallowed the family, the children would lose any chance to decide how Arthur fit into their lives without cameras, rumors, and adults choosing sides for them.
“No release,” Kesha told Maya.
Maya’s expression tightened. “You are protecting Arthur.”
“I am protecting evidence.”
“You are protecting his company.”
“I am protecting mine.”
“And if Richard wins control again?”
“Then the investigators will have the record.”
“Investigators hired by his board.”
“Elena has copies.”
Maya leaned against the fireplace. “You trusted process eight years ago. Letters, lawyers, formal channels. Look where that got you.”
Kesha’s temper rose.
“I did not trust process. I had no power.”
“You have power now.”
“That does not mean using all of it at once.”
Maya looked away.
The disagreement lasted three days. They spoke only about work and the children. On the fourth morning, Maya placed coffee on Kesha’s desk without comment.
It came from a gas station two blocks away rather than the café downstairs.
Kesha took one sip and looked at her.
“You walked past good coffee to buy this.”
“You like terrible coffee when you’re angry.”
“I am not angry.”
“Then enjoy it for the flavor.”
The peace offering was accepted without apology.
Claire contacted Kesha in February.
Her message was brief.
I found something Arthur should see. I would rather give it to you first.
They met in a quiet restaurant near Lincoln Center at three in the afternoon, between lunch and dinner. Claire wore a black coat and no visible jewelry. She looked more tired than she had at the estate but not broken.
Kesha had expected resentment.
Claire ordered tea.
“I don’t hate you,” she said before the server left.
Kesha removed her gloves. “I did not assume you did.”
“I hated you for about twelve minutes.”
“That seems reasonable.”
Claire gave a small laugh. “It was mostly efficient. Then I remembered Arthur was the person who had lied to me.”
She took a slim folder from her bag.
“After I left the estate, I went to our apartment. Arthur had a storage box in the study. Old papers, photographs, things he never organized. I was looking for my passport.”
“You found something else.”
“A phone.”
Claire slid a small black device across the table. It was old enough to have a physical home button. The screen was cracked.
“Arthur’s?”
“Yes. The one he used when he knew you.”
Kesha did not touch it.
Claire continued. “It was dead. I charged it. There were no messages, but the backup account was still connected to his laptop. I found an archived voice-mail file.”
“Did you listen to it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I had just learned my almost-fiancé had four children. My respect for boundaries was not at its best.”
Kesha looked at the phone.
“What was the message?”
“You.”
May you like
The restaurant seemed to recede.
Claire’s fingers tightened around the handle of her cup. “You said you were in the hospital. You said there were four heartbeats and you were afraid. You asked him to call.”
