Chương 5
Vanessa stopped.
“Go home.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“My bag is upstairs.”
Claire almost smiled.
There it was.
Real life refusing to organize itself around emotional symbolism.
“Get your bag.”
“Adrian has the suite key.”
Claire opened her clutch, removed a spare key card, and handed it to her.
Vanessa stared at it.
Claire said, “Take the service elevator. I don’t want my scholarship recipients watching you cross the ballroom.”
Vanessa accepted the card.
Their fingers did not touch.
At eight forty-five, Claire texted her father.
I need the attorney’s number again.
His reply arrived within ten seconds.
It is on the card.
She stared at the message.
Then typed:
I lost the card.
He answered:
Of course you did.
For the first time that night, Claire smiled for real.
He sent the number.
She stepped into an empty coat-check room and called Mara Levin.
The attorney did not sound dramatic.
That helped.
“Are you in immediate danger?”
Claire leaned against a counter.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not unusual. Is he near you now?”
“No.”
“Has he physically hurt you tonight?”
Claire looked at the bruise on her wrist.
“He grabbed me.”
“Has he hurt you before?”
Silence.
Mara waited.
Claire said, “Yes.”
“How recently?”
“Two nights ago.”
“Do you need medical care?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Claire, I’m going to ask you a practical question. Is there somewhere you can go tonight where he cannot easily enter?”
“My father’s apartment.”
“Does your husband have access?”
“He knows the building.”
“That’s different from access.”
“No.”
“Good. Do you have identification, medication, keys, and your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Can you leave without confronting him?”
Claire looked through the coat-check doorway toward the ballroom.
“I’m hosting four hundred people.”
“Then we plan around reality instead of pretending reality is convenient.”
The sentence steadied her.
Mara continued.
“Finish only what you genuinely need to finish. Stay around other people. Do not announce major financial or marital decisions tonight. Don’t provoke him for evidence. Don’t go somewhere private to get a confession. Save messages you already have. Tomorrow we can discuss housing, finances, the trust, and what legal options make sense.”
“The trust.”
“Yes.”
“My father told you?”
“Your father told me enough to identify conflicts. I represent you if you retain me. I do not represent him.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Thank you.”
“Do you want me to stay on the line?”
“No.”
“Then call someone you trust and keep them close.”
Claire nearly laughed.
The list had become unexpectedly short.
She called Richard.
He answered, “Yes.”
Not hello.
“Yes.”
“I’m leaving after the last awards.”
“Good.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
“I know.”
That stopped her.
He added, “For once, I know.”
Claire pressed the phone harder against her ear.
“Can I stay at your place?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t come find me.”
Silence.
Then, “All right.”
“Dad.”
“I said all right.”
She could hear him fighting himself.
Claire said, “Thank you.”
He cleared his throat.
“Keep your phone on.”
The final scholarship photograph was taken at nine twelve.
Claire stood in the middle of twenty-six students while flashes went off and people called for everyone to squeeze closer.
One of the students, a young man named Devin, whispered, “I think your husband is trying to get your attention.”
Claire did not look.
“Then he can experience disappointment.”
Devin choked on a laugh.
The photographer lowered his camera.
Claire smiled for the picture.
Afterward she slipped toward the staff corridor.
Adrian was waiting.
“You told Vanessa to leave.”
Claire kept walking.
He followed.
“She was humiliating you.”
“You don’t get to protect me from your affair.”
“I was protecting the event.”
“Of course.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“You’re not driving.”
“I have a car.”
“You’re not leaving like this.”
Claire stopped near the elevator.
“What does that mean?”
Adrian glanced toward two hotel employees wheeling a linen cart around the corner. He waited until they passed.
Then he stepped closer.
“It means you’re emotional, you’ve been drinking—”
“I had half a glass of wine.”
“People saw you.”
“Doing what?”
“Acting erratically.”
Claire stared at him.
The word landed beside unstable.
She took out her phone.
Adrian looked at it.
“What are you doing?”
“Making a note.”
“Of what?”
“The words you use when I disagree with you.”
His face went cold.
“You think this is clever?”
“No.”
“Give me the phone.”
Claire stepped back.
“No.”
“Claire.”
The elevator doors opened.
She entered.
Adrian entered after her.
She immediately pressed the button to hold the doors.
“Get out.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Get out.”
“I’m your husband.”
“Not a key card.”
He reached for the control panel.
Claire moved between him and the buttons.
“Don’t.”
His hand closed around her upper arm.
She raised her phone.
“Adrian.”
He released her instantly.
A hotel employee appeared at the end of the corridor.
Adrian smiled.
“Everything okay, Mrs. Vale?”
The employee had asked Claire, not him.
It took Adrian a fraction of a second to realize that.
Claire said, “Actually, no.”
The employee stopped.
His name was Miguel Ortega. Claire knew because he had worked banquets at the Whitmore Grand for twelve years and because his daughter had once sold Claire forty dollars’ worth of school fundraiser chocolate she did not want.
Miguel looked from Claire to Adrian.
Adrian said, “We’re having a private conversation.”
Claire heard Mara’s voice in her head.
Stay around other people.
She stepped out of the elevator.
“Miguel, would you walk me to the lobby?”
Adrian stared at her.
Miguel’s expression changed from uncertainty to professionalism.
“Of course.”
Claire walked away.
Adrian did not follow.
That should have been the end of the evening.
It was not.
At nine twenty-six, as Claire crossed the lobby with Miguel beside her, her phone buzzed.
Vanessa.
CLAIRE PLEASE CALL ME.
Then another message.
DON’T LEAVE YET.
Claire stopped.
Miguel asked, “Ma’am?”
She stared at the screen.
A third message appeared.
HE TOOK YOUR BAG.
Claire turned around.
“What bag?”
Miguel frowned.
Claire typed.
May you like
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
Vanessa replied almost immediately.
