Chương 7
“Adrian hired one.”
“That isn’t your lawyer.”
“I know that now.”
The sentence remained between them.
Claire thought of Vanessa entering the baby-shower room with her hand beneath her belly and that faint, prepared expression. She thought of the moment it vanished after Eleanor mocked Claire.
“Send the document to Lydia,” Claire said. “Not to me. I’ll give you her information.”
“Will she help?”
“She represents me. She’ll tell you to get independent counsel.”
“I don’t have money for that.”
“You live in a mansion.”
“It isn’t mine.”
Claire almost said, I know.
Instead she ended the call.
She did not sleep that night.
In the morning, she told Lydia everything.
Lydia listened without visible surprise. “Do you want us to refer her to counsel?”
“I don’t know.”
“She may become a witness.”
“She lied to police.”
“That does not make everything else she says useless. It makes it complicated.”
“She helped humiliate me.”
“Yes.”
“She moved into my house.”
“Yes.”
“She knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
Claire pushed back from the table. “You’re very calm.”
“I’m not married to Adrian.”
The answer was so dry that Claire laughed despite herself.
Lydia folded her hands. “Helping her obtain independent advice may protect you, her, and both pregnancies. It may also create risk. She could take information back to Adrian. She could change her story. She could use your help and still oppose you.”
“Then why help?”
“Because you have to decide what kind of risk you can live with.”
Claire went home and spent forty minutes trying to assemble a bassinet Maya had ordered. Two screws were missing. The instructions contained pictures of hands with no wrists.
She called customer service, argued with a cheerful automated voice, and eventually sat on the floor beside the unfinished frame.
Her mother had died seven years earlier. During Claire’s childhood, whenever something broke, her mother placed every piece on a dish towel and refused help until she understood the mechanism. Claire had inherited neither the patience nor the skill. She had inherited the belief that broken things became less frightening when arranged in view.
She lined up the screws.
Then she called Lydia and approved the referral.
Vanessa retained an attorney named Colleen Reyes, who made it clear that Vanessa was not joining Claire’s case, cooperating with prosecutors, or admitting wrongdoing. She was seeking advice concerning her own rights and the statement Adrian wanted her to sign.
Claire found this infuriating.
“She wants protection without helping me,” she told Maya.
“Most people want protection without cost.”
“I’m paying for every inch of mine.”
“That doesn’t make her braver.”
Claire looked at Maya. “Whose side are you on?”
Maya set down the container of noodles she was holding. “Yours.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.”
“Being on your side doesn’t require me to hate everyone you hate.”
“You don’t have to live with what she did.”
“No. I have to live with what he did because I recorded it and now his lawyers want my phone, my messages, my work records, and every conversation I’ve had with you since college.”
Claire’s anger disappeared so quickly that shame rushed into the space.
Maya continued, quieter. “I am here. I moved work. I sleep with my ringer on. I check your windows when I visit. I am allowed to be tired.”
Claire stared at the table.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“No, I’ve been—”
“Don’t give me a speech. Eat.”
They ate noodles from paper containers without resolving anything.
Two days later, Richard requested a meeting through attorneys.
Lydia arranged it in her office with both sides represented. Richard arrived alone except for Stephen Kline. He wore a dark tailored suit and the same patterned tie he had worn at the shower. Claire wondered whether that was deliberate or whether rich men simply owned many ties that looked alike.
Richard sat across from her.
“You look well,” he said.
Claire did not answer.
Lydia asked Stephen to state the purpose of the meeting.
Richard spoke instead. “This family has allowed a private crisis to become destructive.”
Claire looked at him. “Allowed?”
“Adrian’s conduct was unacceptable.”
It was the first condemnation Claire had heard from any Morgan.
Richard continued before she could respond. “So was the decision to record and preserve a moment of family distress for potential public distribution.”
“Maya recorded a death threat.”
“A statement made in anger.”
“Did you hear it?”
Richard glanced at Stephen.
“At the shower,” Claire said, “you told police you didn’t.”
“I heard raised voices.”
“You were ten feet away.”
“The music was loud.”
“The music was lowered during dialogue.”
Stephen shifted. “We’re not here to relitigate witness statements.”
Claire almost smiled at the absurdity of the word dialogue in his sentence, as if the threat had been part of a performance.
Richard placed an envelope on the table.
“This proposal would resolve the marital financial issues, guarantee housing and medical support, fund the child’s education, and provide confidentiality for everyone. It is substantially more generous than the existing agreement.”
Lydia opened the envelope but did not read it aloud.
Claire said, “What do you want?”
“The recording remains under seal and is not distributed. The criminal complaint is addressed through counsel. Public statements cease. The family foundation invoices are paid immediately.”
“You’re withholding charity payments to negotiate with me?”
Richard’s expression did not change. “The invoices are under review.”
“Three shelters have furniture because my company advanced costs. My employee used her own credit card for fabric. You know exactly what you’re doing.”
Richard looked down at his hands. For the first time, he seemed older than he had at the shower.
“I am trying to prevent the collapse of several lives.”
“Whose?”
“All of ours.”
“Adrian threatened my funeral.”
“Adrian has always used language as a weapon.”
Claire leaned forward. “That sentence is not the defense you think it is.”
Richard’s eyes met hers.
May you like
For a moment, the room held something almost honest.
Then Stephen said, “The offer expires Friday.”
