Chương 7
Daniel looked through the kitchen doorway.
Rebecca was sitting on the back terrace with her coffee, staring at nothing.
“Yes,” Daniel said.
Silence came through the conference line.
Greer asked, “Yes, what?”
“Yes, we were having an affair.”
Someone exhaled.
The general counsel said, “Daniel, I’m going to recommend that you not characterize—”
“It was an affair.”
Another silence.
Daniel continued.
“It began last September. She reported indirectly through strategy until December, directly to me after the reorganization. I approved her compensation package in March.”
Greer said nothing for several seconds.
“Did the compensation committee know about the relationship?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I don’t know.”
“You understand this creates a separate issue.”
“Yes.”
“We need you to take temporary leave.”
Daniel looked at Ava’s chair at the breakfast table.
There was a scratch on the back where she had dragged it through a doorway while pretending it was a race car.
“I’m resigning.”
The general counsel spoke quickly.
“Do not make that decision in this call.”
“I just did.”
“Daniel.”
“I am not capable of running the company.”
“That may be temporary.”
“No.”
Greer said, “We can discuss this after—”
“My daughter was dying while I sat in a room because I had built an organization where my mistress decided which family emergencies were important enough to interrupt me.”
The line went quiet.
Daniel’s throat tightened, but his voice stayed steady.
“That is not solely her failure.”
Nobody tried to stop him after that.
He ended the call.
Rebecca was still on the terrace.
Daniel joined her.
She looked at him.
“What happened?”
“I resigned.”
Her expression did not change.
“Okay.”
He almost wanted more.
Anger.
Approval.
Shock.
Anything.
“Does that make you feel better?” he asked.
Rebecca frowned.
“What?”
He heard the pettiness in his own question and hated himself for it.
“Never mind.”
“No. Ask it.”
Daniel sat across from her.
“I don’t know.”
“You want to know if losing your company balances something.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It sounded like it.”
“I know it doesn’t.”
“Good.”
He looked down at his hands.
Rebecca took a drink of coffee and made a face.
“Still terrible.”
Daniel looked toward the lawn.
A sprinkler clicked slowly along the hedge.
“Why didn’t you confront me in January?”
She rubbed the cup between her palms.
“I was going to.”
“What stopped you?”
“Ava.”
“She knew?”
“Not exactly.”
Rebecca stared at the grass.
“One night your tablet lit up on the kitchen counter. Vanessa had sent something. Just a sentence. ‘I hate when you go home after.’”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Ava saw it before I did.”
“What did she ask?”
“She asked what Vanessa hated.”
He waited.
“I told her Vanessa hated late meetings.”
Daniel gave a bitter laugh.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“She was eight.”
“Almost nine.”
Rebecca looked at him.
He lowered his eyes.
She continued.
“A few weeks later Ava asked if people could love two people at once.”
Daniel could not breathe normally for several seconds.
“What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they can.”
Rebecca’s eyes met his.
“That doesn’t mean they get to do whatever they want.”
Daniel looked away.
She continued.
“I was going to confront you after her birthday. I’d already spoken to an attorney.”
He stared.
“Divorce?”
“I didn’t know.”
“You spoke to a divorce attorney.”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
A year earlier that sentence would have terrified him.
Now it seemed like paperwork belonging to strangers.
Rebecca said, “I didn’t want Ava’s birthday to become the week her parents destroyed each other.”
Daniel rubbed his jaw.
“She thought I was leaving.”
“She was afraid you were.”
“Why didn’t she ask me?”
Rebecca gave him a look.
“She did.”
“When?”
“Every time she asked when you were coming home.”
He had no answer.
The police interviewed him formally that afternoon.
Detective Hale and a digital-forensics specialist named Priya Shah met him at the station. Daniel had counsel present at Mercer Rowan’s insistence, though he told the attorney to let him answer.
Shah walked him through a timeline.
Thursday, 1:22 p.m. Connecticut time: Rebecca’s first call.
1:31: Vanessa accessed Daniel’s phone while he was in negotiations.
1:38: Rebecca left the voicemail about the accident.
2:10: Vanessa returned a call to Claire and stated Daniel had been informed.
2:42: second voicemail from Rebecca regarding surgery.
3:17: Vanessa used Daniel’s device to block Rebecca’s number.
Daniel looked up.
“She blocked it?”
Shah nodded.
“We have local device records consistent with that action. We’re verifying against carrier data.”
“Why would someone block her and still expect to get away with it?”
Hale answered.
“People don’t usually behave like criminal masterminds while panicking.”
Daniel looked at the timeline again.
8:53 p.m.: Rebecca left the voicemail reporting Ava’s death.
9:06: Vanessa accessed the voicemail.
9:12: Vanessa called Claire and stated Daniel was sleeping under medication for a migraine.
9:47: login to Ava’s messaging account from a browser associated with Vanessa’s corporate laptop.
10:14: first message to Daniel.
Daddy, Mom says you’re probably asleep but I wanted to say goodnight.
Daniel stopped reading.
His lawyer put a hand on his arm.
Daniel shook it off.
“I’m fine.”
He was not.
Hale said, “We can take a break.”
“No.”
The detective waited.
Daniel pointed at the text.
“She knew Ava called me Daddy.”
Neither investigator answered.
“She knew how Ava typed.”
Shah said, “We found prior communications between Ms. Cole and Ava.”
Daniel looked at her.
“What communications?”
“Mostly ordinary messages.”
“Show me.”
His lawyer said, “Daniel.”
“Show me.”
Shah hesitated, then opened another folder.
The messages dated back more than a year.
Ava had sent Vanessa pictures of a bracelet.
Vanessa had responded with heart emojis.
Ava asked which shoes Vanessa liked for a school concert.
Vanessa answered the silver ones.
There were jokes about Daniel forgetting his reading glasses.
A photograph of a badly frosted cupcake.
Ava: Dad says this looks professional.
Vanessa: Your dad has no standards.
May you like
Ava: Correct.
Daniel stared at that one for a long time.
