Chương 4
“That isn’t how I meant it.”
“But that’s what you did.”
Chloe’s fingers curled against the edge of the island.
He saw it.
His voice softened a fraction.
“You decided I was safe because I passed.”
She nodded once.
“And when exactly was I going to be promoted from test subject to husband?”
The question hurt because there was no answer that did not sound like another excuse.
“I don’t know.”
Liam looked down.
For a while, neither of them moved.
Then Chloe said, “I was wrong.”
He glanced up.
She did not decorate it.
“I was wrong to keep it from you.”
Some of the anger went out of his face.
Not enough.
“That doesn’t fix it.”
“I know.”
“Please stop saying you know.”
She nodded.
He walked toward the stairs, then stopped.
“Did you bring that portfolio tonight to tell me?”
“Yes.”
“Privately?”
“After dinner.”
“So Brittany changed the schedule.”
Despite himself, his mouth twitched.
Barely.
Chloe almost smiled.
Almost.
Then he looked at the portfolio again.
“What else is in there?”
“Marcus’s financials.”
“Why?”
“I was considering paying off the dangerous debt and refinancing the rest.”
“For him?”
“For you.”
Liam’s expression sharpened.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I know.”
“You were going to secretly solve that too?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
She closed her eyes for half a second.
“Apparently after dinner.”
Liam gave a tired laugh.
“That phrase is doing a lot of work tonight.”
He went upstairs.
Chloe remained in the kitchen.
A minute later she heard a closet door open.
Then a drawer.
She stood very still.
When Liam came back downstairs, he carried a small overnight bag.
Her stomach dropped.
“Where are you going?”
“Eric’s.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
He stopped beside her.
“I love you.”
The words hit harder than anger.
Chloe looked at him.
He looked exhausted.
“I love you too.”
“I believe you.”
He paused.
“I just don’t know what else I believe tonight.”
The front door closed behind him.
Chloe stood alone beside seventy-eight million dollars.
At nine the next morning, Brittany called fourteen times.
Chloe let the first thirteen go to voicemail.
She was sitting on the floor beside the living-room sofa, still wearing one of Liam’s old Georgia Tech T-shirts, drinking coffee that had gone cold forty minutes earlier.
On the fourteenth call, she answered.
“What?”
Brittany inhaled sharply.
“Okay. First of all, don’t ‘what’ me.”
Chloe looked at the ceiling.
“Good morning, Brittany.”
“Did you know?”
“About which lie?”
Silence.
Then, “That’s not funny.”
“I wasn’t joking.”
“Did you know Marcus had borrowed that much money?”
“I know what he disclosed to me.”
“How much?”
“I’m not discussing his finances over the phone with you unless he has authorized it.”
“I’m his wife.”
“Then ask him.”
“I did.”
“And?”
Another silence.
“He says you’re making it sound worse than it is.”
Chloe took a sip of cold coffee and regretted it.
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know.”
That was the first honest thing Brittany had said to her in months.
Chloe leaned back against the sofa.
“What do you want from me?”
“I want to know if we’re going to lose the salons.”
“I don’t know.”
“The house?”
“I don’t know.”
“My mother’s money?”
Chloe sat straighter.
“What money?”
Brittany did not answer.
“Brittany.”
“She invested.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Because Marcus said everything would be fine once Liam came in.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
“How much did Margaret invest?”
“A hundred and twenty, maybe.”
“A hundred and twenty thousand?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
Chloe stood.
The call suddenly felt different.
“Was Liam told?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Mom didn’t want him interfering.”
Chloe walked into the kitchen.
“Brittany, listen to me. Do not sign anything today.”
“What?”
“Anything Marcus puts in front of you. Don’t sign it until you have someone independent review it.”
“You think he’s stealing from me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Say something terrifying in the calmest possible voice and then pretend you didn’t say it.”
Chloe rubbed her forehead.
“That’s fair.”
Brittany seemed surprised by the concession.
After a moment she said, “Are you going to help us?”
There it was.
Not an apology.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
Chloe looked toward the empty stairs.
“I’m going to find out what’s true.”
“Marcus says payroll is Friday.”
“I know.”
“If they miss payroll—”
“I know what happens when people don’t get paid.”
“You could fix it.”
Chloe’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Yesterday you told me to stay out of grown people’s money.”
Brittany breathed out.
“I was angry.”
“You were contemptuous.”
“Fine. I was contemptuous.”
“Of me.”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m scared.”
Chloe leaned against the counter.
That answer did more than any apology would have.
“All right,” she said. “Then be scared enough to stop pretending everything is fine.”
She ended the call and immediately called her wealth adviser.
By eleven, she was sitting in a conference room twenty-two floors above Buckhead with three people who did not care that she wore jeans and no makeup.
Her adviser, Elena Park, had known Chloe since the Northline sale. She was in her forties, sharp without being theatrical, and had once told Chloe that rich people mostly made the same bad decisions as everyone else, just with more commas.
Elena slid a revised analysis across the table.
“We found two more UCC filings.”
Chloe read.
“What do they attach to?”
“Receivables, equipment, inventory. Broad language.”
“And the bank?”
“Senior secured on most business assets.”
“So the merchant lenders are behind them.”
“Some are. Depends on the asset and filing date.”
Chloe flipped pages.
“How bad?”
Elena folded her hands.
“If the numbers Marcus gave us are real, bad.”
“And if they’re not?”
“Worse.”
Chloe looked through the glass wall at the skyline.
May you like
Atlanta looked clean from this height.
That was one of the things she disliked about tall buildings. They made complicated places look simple.
