Chương 4
Adrian stared at him.
Walter regretted the sentence the moment he finished it.
Not because it was untrue.
Because it sounded like Eleanor.
Adrian walked away.
Vanessa found him near the ballroom entrance.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Adrian.”
He took a glass of bourbon from a passing tray.
“Priya’s getting the position.”
Vanessa blinked.
“What?”
“He says there was never a conversation about me.”
“Who says?”
“Walter.”
She looked across the room toward Walter, who was speaking with two donors.
“And you believe him?”
Adrian drank half the bourbon.
“There’s nothing to believe.”
“Did you ask your mother?”
“I’m not begging her for information about my own company.”
Vanessa touched his sleeve.
“It is your company.”
That sentence helped create the moment both of them would spend years describing differently.
When the argument began, it was almost ordinary.
Eleanor approached Adrian because he was drinking too quickly.
That was the reason.
Not strategy. Not power.
Maternal irritation.
She had watched him take a second bourbon before finishing the first and remembered, with unwanted clarity, being twenty-nine and watching David Sterling do the same thing at a hotel opening in Boston before insulting a banker they needed.
“Eat something,” she told Adrian.
He stared at her.
“What?”
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re drinking on an empty stomach.”
Vanessa smiled without warmth.
“He’s twenty-nine, Eleanor.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you?”
Adrian set his glass on the banquet table.
“You gave Priya the job.”
Eleanor looked at him.
“Walter told you.”
“He told me you’ve been planning it for months.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t think I deserved to know?”
“You resigned.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is actually the most relevant answer.”
Vanessa exhaled through her nose.
Adrian’s cheeks flushed.
“You knew Walter was talking to me.”
“No.”
“Don’t.”
Eleanor’s eyes shifted toward Walter.
That tiny movement convinced Adrian she was lying.
She was not.
“Don’t what?”
“Do that calm little thing where you make everyone else sound crazy.”
“I asked you a question.”
“You control everything. You control the board, the trust, the company, the family office. You decide when I’m qualified, when I’m irresponsible, when I’m allowed to know something.”
People nearby were pretending not to listen now.
Eleanor noticed.
“You want to have this conversation here?”
“You picked here.”
“I asked you to eat.”
Vanessa laughed.
It was the wrong laugh.
Adrian turned toward the sound, then back to Eleanor.
She reached for her clutch because she intended to leave the table.
He saw the movement as dismissal.
His shoe moved before any thought finished forming.
The clutch flew.
Then came the sentence about the last name.
By the time Thomas Reed walked into the ballroom with the board behind him, Adrian had sobered more effectively than food could have managed.
“Mrs. Sterling,” Thomas said, “the board is ready for your instructions.”
Eleanor did not answer immediately.
She looked at Thomas, then at Denise Carver.
Denise gave the smallest possible nod.
The plan had been arranged that afternoon after Denise discovered that Adrian had contacted three reporters and two major shareholders regarding what he described as an “imminent governance correction.”
None of the reporters had published anything.
One shareholder forwarded the email to Denise.
That was why Lawrence Bell had flown in.
That was why Priya Nayar had stayed at the hotel rather than returning to New York.
That was why Thomas had positioned security officers outside the ballroom.
Eleanor had hoped they would only need to speak privately with Adrian after the dinner.
Then he kicked the clutch.
He transformed a governance problem into a public one.
Still, Eleanor did not intend to destroy him.
“Thomas,” she said, “close the doors again.”
He hesitated.
“Ma’am?”
“The board can meet in the Hawthorne Room.”
Denise understood first.
“Eleanor—”
“Not here.”
Adrian stared at her.
Vanessa’s eyes moved toward the photographers.
One of them was still taking pictures.
Thomas turned.
“Cameras down, please.”
The photographers lowered them because Sterling Hospitality had hired them and because Thomas’s voice suggested that arguing would add paperwork to their evening.
Guests began speaking again, quietly and badly.
People did not know what had happened, so they invented versions.
Adrian had been fired.
Eleanor had been removed.
The board had staged a coup.
The son had assaulted his mother.
The mother had disinherited the son.
By the time dessert was served, all five versions existed in the ballroom.
Eleanor stepped closer to Adrian.
“We’re going to the Hawthorne Room.”
“I’m not.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
His eyes flashed.
“You can’t order me around.”
“No. But the board can decide whether your recent communications created exposure for the company. You may want to hear that discussion.”
“What communications?”
Vanessa turned toward him.
Eleanor saw it.
That was the moment Vanessa learned about the emails.
Interesting.
Eleanor had assumed she knew.
Adrian glanced at her.
“Nothing.”
Denise approached.
“Mr. Sterling, we have copies.”
The word copies changed him.
His shoulders settled by an inch.
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
“No one has accused you of a crime,” Denise said. “We need to understand what representations you made about company governance and whether you disclosed confidential information.”
“I don’t have confidential information. Apparently no one tells me anything.”
Walter closed his eyes briefly.
Eleanor almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because sometimes a sentence arrived with such perfect uselessness that the body had nowhere else to send the pressure.
“Adrian,” she said, “go with them.”
He looked at her.
“Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
Vanessa touched his arm again.
“I’ll come too.”
Denise shook her head.
“No.”
Vanessa’s chin lifted.
“I’m his fiancée.”
“You’re not a director, officer, employee, attorney, or shareholder.”
“I’m part of this family.”
Eleanor watched Adrian.
He did not correct the word fiancée.
That was another piece of information she had not possessed five seconds earlier.
Vanessa seemed to realize it too.
For the first time that evening, her confidence broke.
Adrian looked at her hand on his arm.
“Vanessa.”
“What?”
May you like
He said nothing.
She pulled her hand away.
