Chương 11
“I came because Garrick will not listen to me.”
“That sounds new.”
Miriam ignored it. “The board has removed him. The prosecutor has turned a private accident into a felony case. Theo is bargaining to save himself. Audrey has not returned my calls.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Speak to Garrick.”
“The court order forbids contact.”
“Through attorneys.”
“And say what?”
“That this has gone far enough.”
Sienna looked across the street. A cameraman adjusted his lens. A neighbor dragged a trash bin toward the curb, pretending not to watch.
“Did you see the images?” Sienna asked.
Miriam’s face remained composed.
“Yes.”
“He pushed me.”
“You were both moving.”
“He had his hands on me.”
“You had scratched him.”
Sienna felt something inside her settle.
Not peace. A limit.
“There is no proof you would accept,” she said.
“There is proof that families can destroy themselves.”
“Garrick did that.”
“No. Garrick made a terrible mistake.”
“He made it many times.”
Miriam’s mouth trembled, so slightly that Sienna might once have pretended not to see.
“When his father was dying,” Miriam said, “he made Garrick promise to hold the company together. Garrick was twenty-eight. Theo was drifting. Audrey could barely leave her apartment. Twelve thousand people depended on decisions he had not been prepared to make.”
“And that gave him permission to hurt me?”
“No.”
It was the first direct no Miriam had offered.
Then she ruined it.
“But pressure changes people.”
“Yes,” Sienna said. “It shows them what they’re willing to do.”
Miriam looked toward the reporters. “You sound like your mother.”
“I used to think that was an insult.”
The older woman’s eyes hardened.
“If Garrick is convicted, he loses everything.”
“He already lost me.”
Miriam laughed once, a dry empty sound. “You think this is about marriage?”
“For me it is.”
“That is why you never understood him.”
“No,” Sienna said. “That is why none of you understood me.”
She went back inside.
Her knees weakened as soon as the door closed.
Catherine stood in the hallway but did not ask what had been said. She only moved aside so Sienna could sit on the stairs.
After a moment, Sienna started laughing.
“What?” Catherine asked.
“She said I sound like you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s exactly what I told her.”
The criminal case approached trial.
Garrick’s attorneys filed motions challenging the notebook, the diagnostic images, Theo’s documents, and Audrey’s testimony. Some arguments succeeded. Several older notebook entries were limited because their dates could not be independently confirmed. Certain corporate records could not be used to prove the assault. The judge permitted the staircase images and testimony regarding the deletion.
The case became narrower.
Sienna found that reassuring.
The public story had grown enormous: corporate surveillance, family power, stock losses, betrayal among siblings, a prosecutor mother, a mansion dinner. The courtroom story was smaller.
Did Garrick intentionally push his wife down the stairs?
Small did not mean simple.
A week before jury selection, Garrick sent a handwritten letter through his attorney. Nina reviewed it and allowed Sienna to decide whether to read it.
She opened it at the restoration table.
His handwriting was the same neat slant he used in anniversary cards.
Sienna,
There are things I cannot say while lawyers are determined to turn every word into a weapon. I am sorry you were hurt. I am sorry our worst moment has become public property. I am sorry I did not understand how frightened you had become of me.
I also need you to remember that fear existed on both sides. You entered my private office. You took records that could destroy the company my father left me. You told me you would make sure I lost everything. You came toward me when I tried to stop you. I acted in a second of panic.
I have replayed that second every night.
I do not expect forgiveness. I am asking for accuracy.
You know I am not the man they have made me into. You know the years before this. The mornings in Maine. The night your father’s watch stopped and we drove two hours to find someone who could repair it. The way you used to sleep with your feet against my legs because they were always cold.
Those things were real too.
Garrick
Sienna read the letter three times.
The memories were real.
That was the cruelty of it.
He had driven through a snowstorm to repair her father’s watch because she could not bear to hear it stop ticking. He had learned to make coffee stronger than he liked because she complained about weak coffee. He had once sat on the bathroom floor during a stomach illness and held her hair back without making her feel embarrassed.
He had also pressed his hand against her throat.
People wanted a clean division between the man who loved and the man who harmed. Sienna had stayed because both men had the same face.
Catherine found her at the table after dark.
The letter lay beside the old map.
“Do you want me to read it?” Catherine asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
Catherine went to the kitchen.
After a minute, Sienna said, “He remembered my feet.”
Catherine returned but stayed near the doorway.
“They were always cold,” Sienna continued. “Even before him. Dad used to complain when I climbed into your bed.”
“I remember.”
“Garrick noticed things.”
“Yes.”
“Bad people aren’t supposed to notice things.”
Catherine leaned against the doorframe. “That would make life easier.”
“I loved him.”
“I know.”
“Part of me still does.”
“I know.”
Sienna looked up. “Does that make you think less of me?”
“No.”
“You answered quickly.”
“I have had time to prepare.”
May you like
Sienna smiled, then cried.
At the final pretrial conference, the prosecutor renewed the plea offer with harsher terms: a felony conviction, a period of incarceration to be determined by the judge within an agreed range, long-term no contact, and financial restitution. Garrick’s loss of corporate position and the evidence tampering allegations had changed the negotiation.
