Chương 2
She tried again.
“The reception is over.”
That did it.
People began collecting handbags, jackets, spouses, and fragments of dignity. Murmurs moved toward the doors. One of Adrian’s groomsmen approached him, but Adrian sent him away with a look. Claire’s maid of honor, Jenna Ruiz, came close enough to touch Claire’s elbow.
“Come with me,” Jenna said.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“No. I really can’t.”
Jenna glanced at Adrian, then at Victor. “I’ll be outside.”
Claire nodded. Jenna kissed her temple and left.
Within minutes, the ballroom looked larger and damaged. Half-eaten plates remained on linen-covered tables. Candles burned beside empty chairs. The wedding cake towered over the scene, its white flowers untouched, the silver knife still tied with a ribbon. A phone lay faceup near the dance floor, abandoned by someone in a hurry. The orchestral music ended, and nobody restarted it.
Paramedics arrived before the police. Victor allowed them to examine his mouth only after Marlene threatened to have him restrained. His lip required no stitches. His blood pressure was high. He rejected transport to the hospital.
Adrian stood near the windows with one security officer beside him. Warm light reflected in the glass, turning the night outside into a black mirror. Claire could see both the room and their faint doubles in it: herself in white, her father seated with blood on a napkin, her husband in black, and between them the gold key shining in its box.
The police officers separated everyone.
Claire gave her account in the bridal suite, still wearing her veil. She sat beneath a gilt mirror while a female officer named Keene wrote in a notebook. The room smelled of hairspray, lilies, and the coffee nobody had finished that morning.
“Did your husband threaten your father before the punch?”
“No.”
“Did your father threaten your husband?”
Claire looked at herself in the mirror. Her makeup remained almost perfect. Wetness brightened her eyes without spilling. She hated that her face could appear composed while everything behind it collapsed.
“My father said the transfer wouldn’t survive Monday.”
“What transfer?”
“The Hale estate. The ranch, the hotels, the development company. Not every asset, I don’t think. I don’t know anymore.”
“And your husband believed he owned them?”
“He had documents.”
“Were you aware of those documents?”
Claire hesitated.
Officer Keene stopped writing. “Mrs. Cross?”
The name landed badly.
“I signed something three weeks ago.”
“What did you sign?”
“I thought it was a marital property acknowledgment. Adrian said the attorneys needed it before the wedding.”
“Did you read it?”
“Yes.” Claire swallowed. “Most of it.”
“Most?”
“There were attachments. Hundreds of pages.”
“Did you have independent counsel?”
“My father’s attorney reviewed an earlier version.”
“Earlier?”
Claire stared at the lace over her knees. One loose thread near the hem had bothered her throughout the ceremony. She had resisted pulling it because the seamstress had warned that lace could unravel farther than expected.
“I received a final link the night before I signed,” she said. “Adrian told me the only changes were formatting and tax language.”
Officer Keene’s pen moved again. “Do you still have the email?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t delete anything.”
“I won’t.”
“Do you know why your father said to activate a fraud file?”
Claire’s fingers tightened in her skirt.
“No,” she said, and knew immediately that the answer was not honest enough.
She had heard the phrase once before.
Three months earlier, Victor had called her while she was choosing invitation paper with Adrian’s mother. He had sounded distracted, his sentences clipped by the noise of wind at the ranch.
“If anything happens with the transfer,” he had said, “call Naomi and tell her the fraud file is active.”
Claire had asked what that meant.
“It means I’m being cautious.”
“You’re always cautious.”
“That’s how I stayed in business.”
“You’re giving us the property. Why are you talking like we’re stealing it?”
Silence had entered the call. Victor was not a man who filled silence to spare someone discomfort.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Claire.”
“No. You’re doing it again. You offer something and then make everyone feel guilty for accepting.”
She had ended the call before he could answer.
She remembered the exact shade of the invitation samples more clearly than anything else: pearl, bone, winter white. Adrian’s mother had touched Claire’s wrist and said, “He has to let you grow up sometime.”
Now Officer Keene asked whether Claire was certain she knew nothing.
Claire looked down at her wedding ring. The diamond had belonged to Adrian’s grandmother, or so he had told her. She wondered whether that story had attachments too.
“My father warned me,” she said.
Across the hotel, Victor gave his statement in the executive office, where photographs of cattle drives and ribbon cuttings lined the walls. He refused to remove his bolo tie. The paramedic had cleaned the blood from his beard, but his lip had begun to swell.
Naomi Price arrived before the officer finished. She was Victor’s general counsel and had been his attorney long enough to ignore doors. In her early fifties, with cropped dark hair and a navy suit that never seemed to wrinkle, she entered carrying two phones and a leather folder.
“Don’t say another word,” she told Victor.
The officer looked irritated. Victor looked relieved.
Naomi examined his face. “You look terrible.”
“I’ve looked worse.”
“Not at a wedding.”
“First time for everything.”
She turned to the officer. “Is my client under investigation?”
“He’s the complainant.”
“Then why does he look guilty?”
Victor pressed his tongue against the cut inside his mouth. “Habit.”
Naomi waited until the officer left before placing the leather folder on the desk.
“The transfer has been frozen,” she said. “The title company flagged the recording package. The bank stopped the collateral substitutions. Corporate counsel notified the boards. Nothing moves until we sort it out.”
“What about the county recorder?”
“Electronic submission was queued for Monday. It’s suspended.”
May you like
Victor nodded.
Naomi’s anger sharpened. “You let him believe it had closed.”
