Chương 7
“No.”
“Send her away.”
Naomi did not move.
Victoria looked up. “What?”
“She is crying.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Not dramatically.”
“That does not improve her appointment status.”
Naomi’s mouth shifted by a fraction. “She says Evan has disappeared.”
Victoria set down the vendor list.
“Disappeared how?”
“He did not return home. His phone is off. His attorney claims not to know where he is.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe she has not slept.”
Victoria looked toward the windows. Reporters remained beyond the gates, though estate security had moved them farther from the drive.
“Bring her in.”
Lauren entered wearing jeans, a camel coat, and large sunglasses. Without the silver dress and ballroom lighting, she looked younger. More ordinary. Her blonde hair had been pulled into a careless knot, not the soft low bun she wore at the gala.
She remained standing.
Victoria said, “Sit.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Then don’t.”
Lauren removed the sunglasses. Her eyes were swollen but dry.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
“You announced everything in front of him. You must have known what he would do.”
“I expected him to call lawyers.”
“He did. Then he left.”
“Did you check his office?”
“Yes.”
“Did you check Mercer Strategic?”
“Yes.”
“Did you check with Malcolm?”
“He says Evan is following counsel.”
“That sounds like Malcolm.”
Lauren’s hands disappeared into her coat pockets.
“He took his passport.”
“Call the police.”
“And say what? My fiancé left the house?”
Fiancé.
Victoria had not looked at Lauren’s hand. The ring was absent.
“Did he leave you a message?”
“No.”
“Did you have an argument?”
Lauren’s laugh broke halfway out. “We’ve been having one since the staircase.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That you signed everything and regretted it. That Charles had manipulated the records. That the announcement was illegal. That you were trying to destroy him because he left you.”
“He did not leave me.”
“I know.”
The words came quickly.
Victoria’s fingers tightened around the paper.
Lauren looked away. “I know that now.”
“How?”
“He said things last night that didn’t match what he told me before.”
“That is not new behavior.”
“I didn’t know him before.”
“You knew he was married when you met.”
Lauren’s face hardened. “Separated.”
“He was sleeping in my bed.”
“He said you kept separate rooms.”
“Sometimes, after I learned about you.”
Lauren’s mouth closed.
Victoria hated the small satisfaction that gave her. It vanished almost immediately.
“Why did you cancel my hotel room?”
Lauren crossed her arms.
“Because I wanted you gone.”
“That part was clear.”
“You weren’t supposed to come.”
“It was my family’s gala.”
“You hadn’t attended in three years.”
“I was asked not to.”
“By whom?”
“Evan.”
Lauren shook her head. “He said you refused.”
“Of course he did.”
“You could have told me.”
Victoria stared at her.
“When?”
Lauren’s anger weakened.
“When you took my position at the foundation? When you moved into the house during renovations? When you sent invitations using my mother’s crest? Which of those moments suggested you were waiting for my clarification?”
Lauren looked toward the windows.
Victoria stood.
“You humiliated me in public because he told you I was irrelevant. You enjoyed it.”
“I was angry.”
“At what?”
Lauren took a breath. “You emailed donors.”
“I sent six people copies of the board notice.”
“You told them the gala was operating under fraudulent authority.”
“I told them the authority was disputed.”
“You made me look like an idiot.”
“I did not make you point at my face.”
Lauren’s lips trembled. She pressed them together.
Victoria turned back to the table.
“Where did Evan go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you here?”
Lauren removed something from her coat pocket and placed it on the table.
A key.
Victoria did not touch it.
“What is that?”
“His office at home has a locked cabinet.”
“And?”
“I found this in his tuxedo.”
“Use it.”
“I did.”
Lauren placed a small black notebook beside the key.
Victoria looked at it but did not open it.
“What is inside?”
“Numbers. Dates. Initials. I don’t understand most of it.”
“Then give it to Miriam.”
“I want to know what happens to me.”
“There it is.”
Lauren’s chin lifted. “I have a right to ask.”
“You have a right to counsel.”
“Am I being accused of something?”
“I don’t know what you did.”
“I organized events.”
“You canceled my room and ordered security to restrict me.”
“That isn’t a crime.”
“No. It’s merely ugly.”
Lauren flinched.
Victoria picked up her phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Miriam.”
Lauren reached for the notebook. Victoria covered it with her hand.
“If you take that,” Victoria said, “I will assume you came here to negotiate with evidence.”
Lauren froze.
For a moment, neither woman moved.
Then Lauren sat.
The coat remained buttoned around her. She looked cold despite the warm room.
“I didn’t know about the mortgage,” she said.
Victoria called Miriam.
By noon, the black notebook was sealed in an evidence bag. Miriam warned that its value was uncertain. Numbers without context proved little. Lauren signed a statement describing where she found it and surrendered the key.
Evan returned to his attorney’s office that afternoon.
He had spent the night at a hotel near the airport.
He claimed he had needed privacy.
Malcolm filed for an emergency injunction challenging the transfer of foundation control and alleging that Charles lacked capacity when he executed the documents. He also accused Victoria of removing records from Evan’s home through Lauren.
The petition reached reporters before it reached Miriam.
By dinner, headlines described a “Hale Family War.” A business channel displayed photographs of Victoria from the worst year of her divorce, leaving a private medical clinic in Connecticut. The clinic treated anxiety, depression, and substance dependence. Victoria had been there for panic attacks and insomnia.
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The distinction did not matter online.
Evan did not accuse her directly of addiction. His filing referred to a “documented period of psychological impairment” during which she allegedly signed the disputed transfer.
