Chương 8
“Of course not.”
“You told me private recordings can be complicated.”
“I also told you to preserve evidence.”
“I can’t win with you.”
“That’s because I’m not on your side.”
Claire went quiet.
Ruiz added, “I’m not on Vanessa’s either. That’s the point.”
The next morning, Vanessa’s attorney contacted Ruiz and offered a formal statement.
By afternoon, Vanessa had surrendered copies of emails between herself and Andrew.
Claire was not allowed to see all of them.
Probate counsel received enough to postpone the trustees’ decision indefinitely.
Richard stopped returning Claire’s calls.
That was when Claire became angry enough to do something useful.
She went to Andrew’s office.
Not the corporate office.
The spare bedroom in their apartment that Andrew called his office even though half the shelves contained camping gear, an unopened bread maker, and three boxes of tax records he had promised to shred.
Nora stood in the doorway.
“What are we looking for?”
“I don’t know.”
“That feels efficient.”
“Andrew signed something.”
“According to Vanessa.”
“Richard saw it.”
“According to Vanessa.”
Claire opened the filing cabinet.
Andrew organized paper in a system based almost entirely on whether he had needed it during the previous five minutes.
Insurance documents were mixed with restaurant receipts.
His birth certificate shared a folder with instructions for a pressure washer they did not own.
Claire sat on the floor and started sorting.
After forty minutes, Nora held up a receipt.
“Six hundred and eighty dollars at a restaurant in New York.”
Claire glanced at it.
“Board dinner.”
“No tip.”
“Corporate account.”
“That is still morally unsettling.”
Claire kept searching.
She found nothing labeled embryos.
Nothing labeled Vanessa.
Nothing labeled amendment.
Then she found an envelope containing two ticket stubs from a minor-league baseball game.
She stared at them.
“What?” Nora asked.
“Nothing.”
Andrew hated baseball.
Claire turned the stubs over.
On the back of one, in Andrew’s handwriting, were four words.
Call R. Re storage directive.
Claire’s pulse jumped.
Nora crouched beside her.
“R is Richard?”
“Probably.”
“Storage what?”
Claire looked at the date.
Nine months earlier.
Three days after the anniversary of Vanessa’s miscarriage.
The clue was not proof.
Ruiz said exactly that when Claire called.
“It establishes that he wrote himself a note.”
“He never went to baseball games.”
“That establishes that he attended or possessed a ticket.”
“Do you enjoy this?”
“No. My mother says I was born annoying.”
Claire sent a photograph.
Ruiz asked her not to search Andrew’s devices without consulting the estate’s digital executor because ownership and access could become disputed.
Claire wanted to scream.
Instead she ate cereal.
Corn flakes.
Halfway through, she realized what she had done.
She pushed the bowl away.
For the rest of the afternoon, she sat on the sofa and did nothing useful.
That night she dreamed Andrew was in the kitchen fixing the bad outlet.
In the dream, he kept dropping screws.
Claire woke before he spoke.
Two weeks passed.
Melissa Grant pleaded not guilty to charges involving unlawful access and falsification of medical records.
Vanessa was not charged.
The internet decided this meant she was either innocent or protected by wealth.
Both opinions multiplied.
A Hale Maritime board member called Claire and asked whether she intended to make a public statement.
“No.”
“Silence creates a vacuum.”
“Then enjoy the vacuum.”
“We’re trying to protect the company.”
“My husband is dead.”
“I know.”
“No, you know his share price.”
She hung up.
Five minutes later she regretted the cruelty.
Ten minutes after that she decided she only regretted enjoying it.
Pregnancy made her tired in ways sleep did not solve.
Her hips hurt.
Her wedding ring became tight by evening.
She started wearing it on a chain around her neck, then stopped because every person who noticed asked whether that “meant something.”
It meant her fingers were swollen.
People disliked ordinary explanations.
At thirty-two weeks, Claire finally received a call from Richard.
“Can you meet?”
“Do you still have a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because Detective Ruiz has told me she no longer objects to my discussing Andrew’s directives with you.”
Claire sat up.
“What directives?”
“Come to the office.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Hale House.”
Richard went silent.
“The conservatory,” she added.
Another silence.
“All right.”
The room had been cleaned.
The broken glass was gone.
The velvet chair Vanessa had jerked sideways had been replaced with another from the library, though Claire recognized the replacement because Andrew had once spilled port on one arm.
Richard saw her looking.
“I had the original put in storage.”
“Evidence?”
“Furniture repair.”
Claire almost smiled.
He unlocked the mahogany case.
It was empty now.
Then he placed a different envelope on the table.
Not sealed.
Claire did not touch it.
“What is it?”
“Andrew’s copy of a directive concerning the embryos stored at North Atlantic Fertility.”
“Vanessa says you watched him sign consent.”
“I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he instructed me not to tell anyone unless Vanessa attempted a transfer.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“When did you know?”
“Six weeks before Andrew died.”
Claire stared at him.
“And you said nothing.”
“To you, yes.”
“To Andrew?”
“I confronted him.”
Claire pulled out a chair.
This time she checked that nobody stood behind it before sitting.
Richard noticed.
His face changed.
He sat opposite her.
“Tell me.”
Andrew had not authorized Vanessa to use an embryo.
Not exactly.
Nine months earlier, after speaking with Vanessa on the anniversary of their loss, Andrew had gone to Richard with a question.
Could he legally allow Vanessa to use one of their remaining embryos without establishing himself as a parent?
Richard told him that parentage, reproductive consent, clinic policy, and estate consequences were separate questions and that he needed specialist counsel.
May you like
Andrew consulted one.
He then signed a directive consenting to release one embryo for transfer only if Vanessa agreed that Andrew would have no parental role beyond what law might require and that the transfer would not create any claim against his estate.
