Chương 6
After the call ended, she sat alone in Arthur’s conference room.
The building had grown quiet.
Maya had gone home.
Arthur stood in the doorway holding his coat.
“You coming?”
“In a minute.”
He watched her.
“I’m not going to steal anything.”
“That wasn’t my concern.”
“I know.”
He put his coat over one arm.
“Security at your house?”
“Still there.”
“Alarm code changed?”
“Yes.”
“Richard has no authorized access?”
“He hasn’t for eleven months.”
Arthur nodded.
“I’ll call tomorrow morning.”
“Arthur.”
He stopped.
“Did you believe me when I first came to you?”
His expression changed.
“That is a complicated question.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
Emily waited.
Arthur returned to the table and sat.
“The first time you came to my office, you told me Richard had taken control of the company using a forged transfer. You also told me you had voluntarily signed several other documents giving him operational authority while you were ill.”
“I was scared.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew then.”
“I suspected.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
She looked out at the dark windows.
Arthur folded his hands.
“I believed you were frightened of him.”
“Not the forgery?”
“I did not know.”
She appreciated the answer and resented it.
“You thought I might be wrong.”
“Yes.”
“Unstable.”
“No.”
“You asked for my psychiatric records.”
“I asked whether there were records Richard could use to challenge your capacity or credibility.”
“That felt different from my side of the table.”
“I’m sure it did.”
Emily laughed without humor.
“Everyone gets to be cautious when a woman says her husband hurt her.”
Arthur did not answer immediately.
“Yes,” he said.
The word surprised her.
“I expected an argument.”
“I don’t have one.”
She stared at him.
He continued.
“The legal system asks for proof because accusations have consequences. That principle matters. It is also true that people who are being controlled often arrive with incomplete records, inconsistent explanations, missing documents, and behavior that looks irrational from outside.”
Emily rubbed her wrist.
“And everyone says, See? She’s unreliable.”
“Sometimes.”
“You did.”
“I asked whether your account could be independently supported.”
“Very elegant distinction.”
“It wasn’t elegant when I did it.”
She looked at him.
He met her eyes.
“I should have explained better. I should also have understood sooner that Richard’s control of information was part of the evidence, not simply an obstacle to finding it.”
That was as close to an apology as Arthur usually came without actually saying the word.
Emily nodded.
“Go home.”
“So should you.”
“I will.”
Arthur stood.
At the door he paused.
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“You were not wrong to show the scars.”
She looked down at the buttoned blouse.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“That’s also allowed.”
After he left, Emily called her mother.
Evelyn answered immediately.
“Oh, thank God.”
“I’m fine.”
“I saw it on television.”
“There were no cameras.”
“They showed you leaving.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Of course they did.”
Her mother inhaled.
“Emily, why did you—”
There it was.
Emily almost hung up.
Evelyn stopped herself.
For once, the silence belonged to her.
Then she said, “I was going to ask why you showed them.”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t the question I should ask.”
Emily looked at the empty chair across from her.
“What should you ask?”
Another pause.
“Are you all right after having to do it?”
Emily pressed her lips together.
Outside the conference room window, someone in a building across the street was watering an office plant.
“I don’t know.”
“All right.”
“I thought I’d feel different.”
“How?”
“Like something ended.”
“Didn’t it?”
“No.”
Her mother said nothing.
Emily continued.
“The court temporarily restored my shares.”
“I heard.”
“Richard may be investigated.”
“I heard that too.”
“And I’m sitting in a conference room staring at a dead fern in the building across from me.”
“Maybe it isn’t dead.”
“It’s extremely dead.”
Her mother laughed softly.
Emily hated how much she had missed that sound.
Then Evelyn said, “Your father wants to call.”
“No.”
“He’s upset.”
“No.”
“He blames himself.”
“He can do that privately.”
“Emily.”
“I said no.”
“All right.”
The speed of her mother’s answer surprised her.
Emily leaned back.
After a moment Evelyn said, “I should have known.”
Emily’s throat tightened.
“You should have asked again.”
“I know.”
“That’s different.”
“Yes.”
“You looked at my hand in that brace and believed him.”
“I did.”
“I was standing in your kitchen.”
“I know.”
Emily looked at the ceiling.
“I can’t make you feel better about that.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
For several seconds they listened to each other breathe.
Then Evelyn said, “Do you have food at home?”
Emily laughed.
“What?”
“It’s a normal question. I’m trying one.”
“Yes. I have food.”
“Good.”
“Good night, Mom.”
“Good night.”
Emily drove home alone.
Security had parked an unmarked car near the gate, required under the temporary arrangement Arthur had insisted on after Richard appeared outside her house two months earlier claiming he needed to retrieve tax documents.
The house was not the marital home.
She had sold that six months after leaving.
This place was smaller, built in the 1930s, with narrow closets and a kitchen drawer that jammed whenever humidity changed. Emily liked it partly because Richard hated old houses.
He preferred rooms that looked recently photographed for magazines.
Her house had uneven floors.
One bathroom.
A porch light that attracted moths.
She entered, locked the door, and stood in the dark.
Her body still expected someone to ask where she had been.
No one did.
She turned on the lamp.
A ceramic bowl by the door held three keys, a receipt, and a single earring she kept forgetting to throw away despite having lost its match a year ago.
She went upstairs.
In the bathroom, she unbuttoned the blouse.
The scars looked exactly as they had that morning.
That offended her.
May you like
After court, after reporters, after Richard’s face changed, after the judge suspended his authority, her skin remained ordinary skin.
She touched one raised line near her collarbone.
