Chương 9
“How much?”
“Eighty thousand total if the raise closed.”
“That’s not enough to ruin you.”
“No. Losing the Keene hospitality account might.”
Evelyn said nothing.
Vanessa looked at her.
“Daniel introduced me to them. If Robert thinks I knowingly helped misrepresent Cross backing, I’m done.”
“Did you?”
Vanessa’s face tightened.
“I believed Daniel.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
“Think before you answer.”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed.
“I am thinking.”
“Did you ever repeat that Cross was involved?”
“Yes.”
“To investors?”
“Yes.”
“Without confirming it with me or anyone at Cross?”
Vanessa looked down.
“Yes.”
“Then you participated in something you hadn’t verified.”
“I know.”
“Did you know it was false?”
“No.”
“Did you wonder?”
Vanessa’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Evelyn waited.
Vanessa looked toward the window.
“I asked him why your name wasn’t on anything.”
“What did he say?”
“That you hated being used as a marketing device.”
“That part is true.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“He showed me interviews.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
Of course he had.
Vanessa continued.
“He said you had agreed to be quiet until he had a lead investor because you wanted him to prove he could raise without leaning on you.”
“That also sounds like something I might say.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“That was clever.”
Vanessa’s face went pale.
“You think I’m an idiot.”
“No.”
“I was sleeping with an engaged man who lied about owning a yacht.”
“I think you made several bad decisions.”
Vanessa gave a small, miserable smile.
“So do I.”
Evelyn lifted her coffee.
It had gone cold.
She drank it anyway.
“Why did you believe him about us?”
Vanessa looked startled.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“No. It’s fair.”
She folded and unfolded the cardboard sleeve on her coffee cup.
“He never called you his fiancée.”
Evelyn felt a tightness in her throat.
“What did he call me?”
“Evelyn.”
“That’s creative.”
Vanessa glanced at her.
“He said you had been living separate lives for a year.”
“We had not.”
“I know that now.”
“He came home to me.”
Vanessa closed her eyes briefly.
“I know.”
“He was in our apartment four nights before last night.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“He told me he had to be there because your mother was visiting.”
Evelyn stared at her.
“My mother was in Connecticut.”
Vanessa pressed her lips together.
Evelyn looked away.
There was an ornamental fountain outside the marina office.
It made the irritating sound all decorative fountains made: constant, cheerful water pretending to have somewhere to go.
Vanessa said, “He was good at making every lie slightly humiliating to question.”
Evelyn looked back.
“What does that mean?”
“If I asked whether you knew about me, I became insecure. If I asked why he still wore the engagement publicly, I was being dramatic. If I asked when he was going to tell people you’d separated, he said adult relationships didn’t need press releases.”
Evelyn almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“You know that tone.”
“Yes.”
Vanessa looked down.
For several seconds neither woman spoke.
Then Evelyn said, “This does not make us the same.”
Vanessa nodded immediately.
“I know.”
“You hurt me knowingly.”
“Yes.”
“You just didn’t know the exact architecture of the lie.”
Vanessa looked as if the sentence had struck her.
“Yes.”
Evelyn stood.
Vanessa stood too.
“What happens now?”
“To what?”
“Harbor North.”
“I find out what happened.”
“And me?”
“I’m not in charge of what happens to you.”
Vanessa’s shoulders dropped.
“I know.”
Evelyn took her phone out.
“I’ll give Nina your contact information if you consent. My counsel can tell you where to send relevant material. You should still have your own lawyer.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Okay.”
“And Daniel’s statement?”
“I won’t sign it.”
“That’s your decision.”
“I know.”
Evelyn looked at her.
“Do you?”
Vanessa flinched again.
Evelyn hated how satisfying that was.
She walked toward the door.
“Evelyn.”
She stopped.
Vanessa stood beside the table, hands at her sides.
“Why didn’t you throw me off the yacht?”
Evelyn stared at her.
“We were offshore.”
Vanessa almost laughed.
“I meant emotionally.”
“I know what you meant.”
Evelyn opened the door.
“I was busy.”
By ten that morning, Evelyn was in a conference room at the marina with Nina on video, the Cross Family Capital general counsel in New York, and the family office chief operating officer, Mark Feld.
No one used the word affair.
That should have made things easier.
It did not.
They built a list.
Who had heard what.
What entities Daniel had referenced.
What authority, if any, anyone could reasonably believe he possessed.
What Cross documents he had been able to access as Evelyn’s partner.
The answer to the last question was uncomfortable.
Daniel had never possessed institutional credentials.
But he had been in rooms.
He knew portfolio companies.
He knew people’s first names.
He knew which investments Evelyn liked and which she mocked over dinner.
He knew that Cross had explored coastal hospitality assets the previous year.
None of that was confidential in a formal sense.
Together, it was persuasive.
Mark removed his glasses.
“How much did you discuss business with him?”
Evelyn stared at him.
“We lived together.”
“I know.”
“What does that question mean?”
“It means did he know investment theses, rough allocations, committee concerns?”
“He heard things.”
“How many things?”
“I don’t know, Mark.”
He leaned back.
Nina said, “We are not auditing pillow talk.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said.
Mark rubbed his forehead.
“I’m trying to assess credibility. If Daniel told people Cross had appetite for marina assets, that might not have been fabricated from nothing.”
“We have appetite for a lot of things,” Evelyn said.
“Exactly.”
Nina cut in.
“Appetite is not authorization.”
“No one said it was.”
Evelyn looked from one face to another.
“What do we actually need to do?”
The general counsel answered.
“First, identify the universe of people who may have received inaccurate representations. Second, preserve records. Third, make a factual correction where necessary without speculating about intent.”
May you like
“Do we contact everyone?”
“Not until we know who everyone is.”
