Part 5
“There are cameras?”
“In the hallways and exterior. Not inside the conservatory, according to Thomas.”
Elena thought of Julian’s certainty that private spaces protected him. “The windows may show reflections from an exterior camera.”
“Good. We’ll ask.”
The door opened without a knock.
Julian entered.
Rachel stood.
One of the security officers appeared behind him. “Mr. Vale, you were asked to remain in the conservatory.”
“I’m speaking to my wife.”
Elena’s body tightened before her mind caught up.
Julian noticed.
The recognition injured him. She saw it happen: the fraction of a second in which he understood that she was afraid, followed immediately by his decision to resent her for it.
He held out both hands. “I’m not going to touch you.”
Rachel moved between them. “You need to leave.”
“This is a family matter.”
“I represent your wife.”
“She’s not a criminal defendant.”
“No. She isn’t.”
His gaze shifted to Elena. “Tell them to give us five minutes.”
“No.”
“You owe me five minutes.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
She hated the way he said her name when other people were present—softly, with the practiced patience of a man managing an unreasonable woman.
“What do you want to say?” she asked.
Rachel glanced back at her. Elena gave a slight nod.
Julian looked at the officer. “Outside.”
The officer remained.
Julian’s nostrils flared. “Fine.”
He faced Elena. “I am sorry the glass cut you.”
She waited.
“I shouldn’t have thrown it.”
Another pause.
“I was angry because I came here tonight expecting support from my family and discovered that my mother had organized an ambush.”
Elena felt Rachel go still.
Julian continued. “That doesn’t excuse what happened.”
But, in Julian’s apologies, there was always a but, whether spoken or not.
He touched the edge of his crooked bow tie. “I need you to understand the pressure I’ve been under.”
“No,” Elena said.
He blinked. “No what?”
“No, I don’t need to understand it.”
“I didn’t say you needed to.”
“You said you needed me to.”
His mouth tightened. “Can you not do this right now?”
“Do what?”
“Turn every sentence into evidence.”
Rachel said, “Mr. Vale—”
He lifted a hand. “I’m talking to my wife.”
Elena looked at the hand. He lowered it.
“What happened with the company?” she asked.
The question surprised him.
For weeks, Julian had insisted that reports of a cash problem were exaggerated. He claimed the delayed construction projects were strategic, the vendor lawsuits routine, and the board’s concern politically motivated. Elena had heard him on late-night calls asking for extensions and favors. He had told her each call was under control.
Now his shoulders dropped a fraction.
“My mother panicked.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with attorneys.”
“What happened?”
He looked at Rachel, then at the security officer, and finally back at Elena. “A financing arrangement didn’t close.”
“The Ravenswood development?”
“Yes.”
“You told the board it had closed in June.”
“It was effectively closed.”
“Was it closed?”
He stepped nearer. The officer moved between them before Julian had taken more than half a pace.
Julian stopped. “You see? This is what they’re doing. They’re making it impossible for me to even speak.”
Elena’s pulse beat beneath the cut on her cheek. “Was it closed?”
“No.”
The room seemed to exhale.
“How much money is missing?” she asked.
“Nothing is missing.”
“How much is unavailable?”
He looked toward the windows.
“Julian.”
“Forty-eight million.”
Rachel’s fingers tightened around the back of a chair.
Elena had expected a large number. The actual figure produced an odd absence of feeling.
“Where did the company get the money to keep the project alive?”
“It moved between entities.”
“Which entities?”
“This is not your concern.”
“My name is on two of the guarantees.”
Julian looked at her quickly.
That was the answer.
Elena stood. “You said those documents were estate planning forms.”
“They were part of a broader package.”
“You told me they concerned the apartment and insurance.”
“They did.”
“What else did they concern?”
He said nothing.
Rachel turned to her laptop. “Do you have copies?”
“No. He gave me signature pages.”
Julian’s voice sharpened. “That is standard.”
“No,” Rachel said. “It isn’t.”
“I did not defraud my wife.”
Elena stared at him.
The word had come from him, not from either woman.
Behind Julian, the security officer spoke quietly into a sleeve microphone.
Julian heard and turned. “What are you saying?”
The officer did not answer.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Mr. Vale,” Rachel said, “you need to leave this room now.”
He looked at Elena again. “They will destroy everything and tell you it was for your protection.”
“You used my signature.”
“I protected our assets.”
“You used my signature.”
“I didn’t forge it.”
“You lied about what I signed.”
His face reddened. “Because you refuse to understand business.”
The insult landed with less force than it once had. Maybe because it was so familiar. Maybe because the cut on her cheek had stripped the evening of subtlety.
Elena walked to the writing desk and picked up Rachel’s pen.
Her hand shook, but she held it out.
Julian frowned. “What are you doing?”
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
“Show me the documents.”
“Not now.”
“Then tell me which entities.”
“This is absurd.”
She put the pen down. “You don’t get five minutes. You don’t get one.”
She turned to the officer. “Please remove him.”
Julian’s face emptied.
The officer stepped forward. “Sir.”
For one terrible second, Elena thought Julian might fight him. His hands curled, and his weight shifted. Then he saw Rachel watching, the second officer in the hall, the exterior lights through the window, and the red line on Elena’s cheek.
Calculation returned.
He straightened his jacket.
“I’ll leave,” he said. “I’m not being removed.”
No one argued.
At the door, he looked back at Elena.
“You’re making a mistake.”
She met his eyes. “It won’t be the first.”
He left.
May you like
The rain continued until dawn.
Elena did not sleep. She sat in a guest bedroom in the east wing while Rachel worked at a desk near the window. Security officers changed shifts in the hallway. Dr. Kern photographed the cut with a ruler beside it, then again without one. Thomas brought coffee at four fifteen and apologized because the kitchen’s oat milk had expired.
