Chương 6
“Give me an example.”
“He told Grandma you refused to release money for expansion.”
“I never controlled company operating decisions.”
“I know that now.”
“What else?”
“He told Uncle Doug you wanted him out.”
“I barely speak to Doug.”
“He told me you were going to sell the company if he missed another loan payment.”
“I cannot sell a company I do not own.”
“I know.”
The words came out smaller.
“I know that now.”
I stood again.
“Where are you?”
“At Grandma’s.”
“Is Richard there?”
“Yes.”
“Can he hear you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m in the upstairs bathroom.”
That sounded exactly like the kind of certainty people have before discovering a door is thinner than they thought.
“Don’t tell him you’re talking to me.”
She gave a brittle laugh.
“That ship sailed.”
“What happened?”
“He knows I called you.”
“How?”
“I asked him why he said you wanted the company.”
“And?”
“He lost it.”
Richard rarely lost it in front of Madison.
He saved his anger for private rooms and people he believed would stay.
“What did he say?”
“That I was too stupid to understand business.”
The words came flat.
I felt something ugly and immediate in my chest.
Satisfaction.
Not because he had hurt her.
Because for one second she had been forced to see what I had seen.
I hated myself for the feeling before it had fully formed.
“Madison.”
“What?”
“Did you schedule the transfer?”
“No.”
“Did you ever enter my account information anywhere?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
I stopped moving.
“Where?”
“Dad gave me a spreadsheet.”
“What spreadsheet?”
“A cash planning sheet.”
“What did you enter?”
“Account numbers.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
A cold sensation moved through my arms.
“How did you get them?”
“From the pictures.”
“Why?”
“He told me those were company reserve accounts.”
I pressed my palm against the wall.
“He told you my investment accounts belonged to Cole Family Catering?”
“He said they were structured through your firm for tax reasons.”
I nearly laughed again, but there was no humor left.
“And you believed him.”
“I don’t know.”
“You entered them.”
“I know.”
“Did you enter passwords?”
“No.”
“Security codes?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
“Routing information.”
“That information was in the notebook.”
“Yes.”
“Did you send him the spreadsheet?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
I sat down again.
The transfer had been scheduled three days before the reunion.
“Did you use his administrator profile?”
“No.”
“Did you have the password?”
“I had a temporary one before.”
“For the catering dashboard?”
“Yes.”
“Could you access financial integrations?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
For once, I believed her completely.
“Don’t touch anything else.”
“I’m not.”
“Do not delete messages.”
“I haven’t.”
“Do not delete files.”
“I said I haven’t.”
“And don’t let Richard use your phone.”
Her breathing changed.
“He already asked for it.”
“When?”
“Like ten minutes ago.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I left it in my car.”
“Where is it now?”
“In my hand, obviously.”
Despite everything, a laugh escaped me.
Madison laughed too.
It lasted less than a second.
Then she started crying.
Not loudly.
That somehow made it worse.
“I didn’t try to steal your money.”
I stared at the carpet.
There was a faint coffee-colored stain near the bed.
“I don’t know what you tried to do yet.”
“I thought I was helping Dad.”
“That may be true.”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I believe you’re scared.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
She sniffed.
“No, it isn’t.”
I heard a knock through her end of the call.
Madison froze.
Another knock came.
Then Eleanor’s voice, muffled but distinct.
“Madison, sweetheart, your father needs to speak with you.”
I stood.
“Do not open that door.”
“What?”
“Stay where you are.”
“Claire, this is Grandma’s bathroom, not a hostage situation.”
“Then leave through the front door when you can.”
Another knock.
Harder.
Eleanor spoke again.
“Madison.”
The softness was gone.
Madison whispered, “She knows.”
“Knows what?”
“That I’m talking to you.”
A man’s voice sounded farther away.
Richard.
I could not make out the words.
My skin prickled.
“Madison, listen carefully.”
“I am.”
“Text Naomi the screenshots you have.”
“Who?”
“My attorney.”
“I don’t have her number.”
“I’ll send it.”
“What do I tell her?”
“The truth.”
There was a brief silence.
Then Madison said, “Which version?”
“The one you can prove.”
The words sounded harsher than I intended.
Madison was quiet.
Outside the bathroom door, Eleanor knocked again.
“Your father is waiting.”
Madison whispered, “I have to go.”
“No.”
“I can’t stay in here all night.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What am I supposed to do, climb out the window?”
I pictured Eleanor’s upstairs bathroom from Thanksgiving two years earlier, narrow window over a hydrangea bed, second floor, no balcony.
“No.”
“Good, because I’m not dying in Grandma’s bushes.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
“Call a rideshare.”
“From inside the bathroom?”
“Yes.”
“Grandma’s going to love that.”
“This is not about what she loves.”
There was a pause.
Then Madison said, “That feels new.”
I ignored it.
“Keep your phone with you.”
“And send Naomi everything before you leave.”
Another knock.
Richard’s voice came closer.
“Madison, open the door.”
She stopped breathing.
I could hear him plainly now.
“I just want to talk.”
The phrase made the skin between my shoulder blades tighten.
Richard always wanted to talk when he needed someone else to stop speaking.
Madison whispered, “He sounds calm.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know.”
Her reply came too quickly.
The lock clicked on her end.
For one terrible second I thought she had opened the door.
Then she said, “I locked the second latch.”
I exhaled.
“I’m sending Naomi’s number.”
“Okay.”
“Text me when you’re outside.”
“Claire.”
“What?”
Her voice dropped further.
“I’m sorry about the plate.”
I closed my eyes.
The apology should have mattered.
Six hours earlier I would have imagined it satisfying some neat moral balance.
May you like
Instead it felt small and late and human.
“I’m not ready to talk about that.”
