Chương 10
Ryan’s lawyers argued William had secretly predetermined the outcome.
William argued that considering something was not deciding it.
Both were partly right.
After the deposition, Evelyn went to his townhouse.
He opened the door himself.
“You look angry.”
“I’m cold.”
“You also look angry.”
“Your deposition was a disaster.”
“Elaine said it was acceptable.”
“Elaine bills by the hour.”
William let her in.
They sat in the library.
A football game played silently on television.
William poured sparkling water.
No bourbon.
Evelyn noticed and did not praise him.
“You encouraged me before the special committee existed.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me that in those words.”
“I said we had discussed succession.”
“Succession is not acquisition.”
“You knew I was considering selling.”
“To someone. Not necessarily me.”
William’s irritation rose.
“Would it have changed your decision?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I would have documented it differently.”
“That is paperwork.”
“That paperwork is currently the difference between an independent process and Ryan’s claim that you chose your preferred heir in advance.”
William stood.
“He is not my heir.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
He turned.
“What does that mean?”
“You’re still making this about family.”
“It is family.”
“It is also eight thousand employees, billions in assets, lenders, partners, communities, and a court asking whether we played games with governance.”
“I did not play games.”
“You made a private decision and assumed procedure would catch up.”
“I owned the shares.”
“You were chairman.”
“I had the right to sell.”
“And responsibilities while doing it.”
William’s face reddened.
“You sound like him.”
The sentence stopped her.
William seemed to regret it.
Evelyn stood.
“I’m going home.”
“Evelyn.”
“No.”
She left.
In the car, anger shook through her so hard she had to press both feet against the floor.
You sound like him.
It was unfair.
It was also not completely unfair.
She had begun making decisions faster.
She interrupted more often.
She dismissed people when she believed they had not prepared.
At a recent meeting she had embarrassed a vice president over a forecast error.
The man deserved correction.
He had not deserved humiliation.
Evelyn called him from the car.
He answered cautiously.
“Ms. Carter?”
“Daniel, I owe you an apology.”
Silence.
“I handled Monday badly.”
Another silence.
Then, “Okay.”
“You can say more than okay.”
“I’m trying to decide whether this is a test.”
It hurt because it was funny.
“No test.”
“You were pretty mad.”
“I was.”
“The forecast was wrong.”
“It was.”
“So…”
“I can be right and still be an asshole.”
Daniel laughed before he could stop himself.
Then said, “I appreciate the call.”
After they hung up, Evelyn sat in traffic for forty minutes.
She watched a man in the next car eat French fries one at a time with extraordinary seriousness.
New York moved around her.
Nobody cared who owned Carter Vale.
That was strangely comforting.
Ryan requested a private settlement conference before the December hearing.
Evelyn agreed because Elaine advised it.
They met in a neutral law office.
No cameras.
No William.
No Madison.
Ryan arrived first.
He looked thinner.
For a second, Evelyn saw him as he had looked during his father’s heart surgery years earlier—tired, frightened, pretending not to be.
Then he stood.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
They sat opposite each other.
Lawyers occupied both ends of the table.
A mediator explained confidentiality.
Ryan barely listened.
After an hour of legal positioning, the mediator separated them.
Three hours later, Ryan asked to speak to Evelyn alone.
Elaine objected.
The mediator suggested ten minutes.
Evelyn agreed.
They sat in a smaller room with glass walls.
No one could hear them.
Everyone could see them.
Ryan looked at her left hand.
No ring.
He rubbed his thumb where his own had been.
“I want to know when you stopped loving me.”
Evelyn had prepared for valuation disputes.
Not that.
“I don’t know.”
“You must know.”
“No.”
“Was it before the deal?”
“Ryan.”
“I need to know.”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if it was before, then maybe all of this makes sense.”
“All of what?”
He gestured vaguely.
The company.
The lawsuit.
Madison.
The marriage.
Perhaps his entire life.
Evelyn said, “I loved you at the gala.”
He looked stunned.
“That night?”
“Yes.”
“After you bought the company?”
“Yes.”
“You were taking everything from me.”
“I was trying to stop you from destroying a business.”
“My business.”
“That is the sentence you still don’t understand.”
Ryan leaned back.
“What do I not understand?”
“It wasn’t yours because you wanted it to be.”
“My family built it.”
“So did thousands of people whose names aren’t Carter.”
“You sound like a brochure.”
“And you sound like your father twenty years ago.”
His face hardened.
“Don’t.”
“There. That.”
“What?”
“You hate him, but every time you’re afraid, you become him.”
Ryan stood.
“Fuck you.”
Evelyn looked up at him.
He paced to the window.
“I spent my entire life being told I wasn’t ready.”
“Sometimes you weren’t.”
“By him. By Victor. By you.”
“I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.”
He turned.
“You corrected everything. Every dinner. Every presentation. Every deal. There was always some number I missed, some risk you saw, some smarter way.”
Evelyn felt old anger rise.
“You asked for my opinion.”
“I wanted you to be on my side.”
“I thought those were the same thing.”
“They weren’t.”
That landed.
Evelyn looked at the table.
Perhaps that had been one of their oldest mistakes.
Ryan wanted loyalty as reassurance.
Evelyn expressed loyalty as correction.
Neither had understood the translation.
“I should have seen that,” she said.
Ryan looked at her, surprised.
She continued.
“But it does not excuse Madison.”
His face closed again.
“I know.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
“The gala?”
“No.”
“The lawsuit?”
He looked away.
There was the answer.
Evelyn said, “You signed an affidavit saying I staged your humiliation.”
“I was angry.”
“Under oath.”
“My lawyers—”
“No.”
He stopped.
Evelyn leaned forward.
“No more people making you do things.”
May you like
His eyes flashed.
“That’s easy for you.”
