Chương 6
Claire felt suddenly cold.
“The accounts I found were reimbursements?”
“Some.”
“Some.”
“There were also payments to my company.”
“For what?”
“Consulting.”
“You don’t consult.”
“I know.”
“So they were fake invoices.”
Sienna nodded.
Claire closed her eyes.
This was no longer simply divorce-lawyer territory.
It might be tax fraud.
Misuse of shared marital assets.
Potential business fraud.
Possibly more.
Claire reopened her eyes.
“Did you sign anything?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Consulting agreements.”
“Did you provide consulting services?”
“No.”
“Did Eleanor know that?”
“Yes.”
“Did Julian?”
“Yes.”
Claire looked toward the doorway Ethan had gone through.
“How much did Ethan know?”
“None of it.”
That, Claire believed.
The devastation in his face had been too unpracticed.
“Does anyone else know?”
Sienna hesitated.
Claire leaned back.
“Who?”
“Eleanor’s attorney.”
“Which attorney?”
“Martin Vale.”
Claire knew him.
Everyone did.
Vale had advised the Bennett family for more than twenty years.
Wills.
Trusts.
Real estate.
Foundation work.
He had attended Claire and Julian’s wedding.
He had sent them a silver champagne bucket engraved with their initials.
“Did he draft the agreements?”
“Yes.”
Claire stared at the table.
The betrayal acquired another room.
Another adult.
Another person who had eaten in her home.
Another person who had known.
“Did he know why the payments were being made?”
“I don’t know.”
“You signed the papers.”
“He said it was standard.”
“You signed fake contracts and didn’t ask?”
Sienna’s face hardened for the first time.
“I was drowning.”
“So you grabbed whoever was closest.”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised Claire.
No excuse.
No decoration.
Just yes.
Sienna looked at her.
“I was drowning. I was vain. I lied to Ethan because I didn’t want him to know my business had failed. Julian made me feel like I wasn’t stupid. Then I slept with him. Then I kept doing it. Eleanor found out and offered me a way to pretend none of it had happened. I took it.”
Her voice shook.
“I took every way out that required somebody else to pay.”
Claire said nothing.
It was the first honest thing Sienna had said.
At one in the morning, Claire drove herself to the hospital.
She could have taken one of the family cars with a driver.
She did not want company.
She removed her diamond earrings at a red light and placed them in the cup holder because they suddenly felt absurd.
At the next light, she realized she was still wearing the navy evening dress.
There was nothing she could do about that.
The emergency department waiting room contained eight people, two vending machines, a television showing muted local news, and a child asleep across three chairs while his mother stared at her phone.
Claire sat beneath a poster about stroke symptoms.
She called their accountant.
No answer.
She called again.
Still nothing.
Then she texted:
I need copies of every transfer from joint, household, and family-managed accounts involving Sienna Bennett, Sienna’s companies, Julian Bennett, Eleanor Bennett, or entities they control for the past three years. Please preserve everything. Do not alert Julian or Eleanor before speaking to me.
She read the message twice.
Then sent it.
Her phone rang five minutes later.
The accountant.
“Claire?”
“Hi, Howard.”
“It’s one in the morning.”
“I know.”
“Are you all right?”
“No.”
A pause.
“What happened?”
“Julian is in the emergency room.”
“Oh God.”
“He’ll probably be fine.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t know. That’s not why I called.”
Howard said nothing.
Claire continued.
“I need the transfers.”
Another pause.
Longer.
“Claire—”
“How much did you know?”
“I knew there were transfers.”
“To Sienna?”
“To entities associated with her.”
“And you never thought I should know?”
“They were authorized.”
“By whom?”
“Julian.”
“And?”
“Eleanor, in some cases.”
“And me?”
“No.”
“Were they from accounts requiring my authorization?”
“Not individually.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Howard was speaking carefully now.
Accountant language.
Liability language.
“Were they from marital assets?”
“I can’t give you a legal determination.”
“I’m not asking for one.”
“Then yes, some funds came from accounts containing marital income.”
“Thank you.”
“Claire, I think you should speak to counsel before—”
“I will.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
The child across the waiting room woke and asked his mother for water.
Howard lowered his voice.
“There are things I questioned.”
“What things?”
“Descriptions. Timing. Some intercompany reimbursements.”
“Did you document your questions?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Claire—”
“Preserve those too.”
Silence.
“You’re going to divorce him.”
It was not a question.
Claire looked at the emergency room doors.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
That was true.
Howard sighed.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire nearly said, Everyone is.
Instead she said, “Thank you.”
A nurse called her name.
Julian was sitting up when Claire entered the treatment room.
Still shirtless beneath a hospital gown.
IV in one arm.
Monitor leads across his chest.
His color had improved.
He looked smaller.
That bothered her.
She wanted him to look exactly like the man who had betrayed her.
Confident.
Controlled.
Polished.
Instead he looked frightened and exhausted and very human.
“Hi,” he said.
Claire stood near the door.
“Are you dying?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He looked down.
“The doctor thinks it was a bad reaction. The pill, alcohol, dehydration. My blood pressure dropped. They’re checking everything else.”
“Okay.”
“Eleanor’s fine too.”
“Good.”
“She’s in another room.”
“I know.”
Julian looked at her.
“Sienna told you.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
He swallowed.
Claire noticed his throat move.
A tiny thing.
She remembered kissing that exact place.
Memory was a disgusting animal.
It ate anything.
“Claire.”
“Don’t apologize yet.”
He looked confused.
“I don’t want to hear the apology you prepared while they were running tests.”
“I didn’t prepare anything.”
“You prepare everything.”
“That’s not fair.”
She stared at him.
He looked away.
“Sorry.”
“There. That one sounded real.”
His eyes closed.
“Six years,” Claire said.
“I know.”
“No, you know the number. I’m not sure you know the years.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I messed up.”
Claire almost smiled.
“Messed up.”
May you like
“I know that sounds—”
“You falsified business payments.”
