Chương 11
Price asked, "Why would Richard want money moved before end of day?"
Sienna said, "He told me an audit was starting."
Naomi's voice sharpened.
"What audit?"
"I don't know."
"Internal, bank, tax, regulator, lender?"
"I don't know."
Julian paced toward the window.
"He would've told me."
Nobody responded.
That hurt him.
I saw it.
He stopped pacing.
"You all think I'm an idiot."
My mother said nothing.
Price looked at the floor.
I looked at Oliver.
Julian gave a bitter smile.
"Great."
"Julian," I said.
He turned.
"I don't think you're an idiot."
His expression changed slightly.
"I think you didn't want to know things that might make your life harder."
That landed differently.
His jaw tightened.
"You've been waiting to say that."
"No."
I adjusted Oliver's blanket.
"I've been waiting for six months to say much worse."
Sienna made a small sound through the phone.
Maybe a laugh.
Maybe a sob.
Julian looked at the screen.
"Are you at least safe?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"I'm not telling you."
"I'm not going to hurt you."
"I know."
"Then why won't you tell me?"
"Because you're still asking your father what reality is."
The sentence silenced him.
I looked toward the front windows.
Richard's SUV was gone.
Evelyn's remained.
She was still sitting beside me, but her attention seemed miles away.
Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.
"How long?" she asked.
Sienna did not know she was speaking to her.
"How long what?"
"How long has Richard been using Bellmere?"
"Evelyn," Julian said.
She ignored him.
Sienna answered carefully.
"I only had access for four months."
"And during those four months?"
"I don't know what came before."
"How much moved through it?"
Price said, "Mrs. Vance, she needs counsel before she keeps answering questions."
Evelyn turned on him.
"I have been married to that man for thirty-six years."
Her voice cracked on thirty-six.
"I am not asking as a lawyer."
"No," Price said.
"You're asking as someone who may have legal exposure without realizing it."
That stopped her.
She looked at him.
"What exposure?"
"I don't know yet."
"Don't say things like that unless you know."
"I know enough to tell you to stop talking about accounts until you have independent counsel."
"Independent from whom?"
Price looked at Julian.
Then at the door Richard had left through.
"Everyone."
Evelyn sat back.
I had never seen her look small.
Not even when her sister died.
At the funeral, she had organized flowers while other people cried.
Now she stared at the rug.
"I need my purse."
My mother pointed toward the entry table.
"It's there."
Evelyn stood, collected it, then hesitated.
"Claire."
I looked up.
She seemed about to apologize.
I did not want one.
Not yet.
Maybe she understood that from my face.
Instead she said, "I'm leaving."
"Okay."
"I won't come back today."
"Okay."
Her fingers tightened around the purse strap.
Then she looked at Oliver.
Not at me.
At him.
"I'm sorry he heard all this."
I almost told her newborns did not understand financial fraud.
Instead I said, "So am I."
She left.
The front door clicked shut.
My mother stared after her.
"I dislike her less than I did an hour ago."
"Don't get carried away."
"I said less."
Price checked his phone.
"I need to go back to my office."
Julian looked at him.
"You're leaving now?"
"I have to determine who I represent and whether any conflicts exist."
"I pay you."
"That may become one of the facts I need to examine."
Julian gave him a wounded look.
Price softened slightly.
"Listen to me."
He stepped closer.
"Do not delete anything."
"Do not move money."
"Do not access Bellmere if you're not sure you're authorized."
"Do not contact Martin Hale about the documents."
"And stop discussing financial matters with your father until you have separate counsel."
Julian frowned.
"You're my separate counsel."
"Maybe."
That frightened him more than everything else Price had said.
Price took the altered agreement from the dining table and slid it into his portfolio.
"I'm retaining this."
Julian nodded.
I said, "I want a copy."
"You'll get one."
"Today."
"Today."
He looked at me.
"And preserve the anonymous messages."
"I am."
He left.
My mother locked the door behind him.
Then she turned toward Julian.
"Are you staying?"
Julian looked surprised by the question.
"I don't know."
"Then decide."
"Mom," I said.
"No."
She pointed at the kitchen.
"My daughter hasn't eaten breakfast."
"Her children haven't had a peaceful morning."
"If you're staying, you can be useful."
Julian looked at me.
I shrugged.
"She's serious."
My mother handed Leo to him.
Julian nearly dropped his phone.
"Wait."
"Support his head."
"I know."
"Then do it."
I should have objected.
Instead I watched Julian settle Leo against his chest.
The baby made a tiny grunting sound and went back to sleep.
Something inside me twisted.
My mother walked into the kitchen and began reheating soup at ten in the morning because she believed soup solved physical weakness, bad marriages, and possibly federal investigations.
Julian sat across from me.
For once, he had no argument prepared.
Sienna was still connected.
I had almost forgotten.
"So," she said quietly.
Julian looked at the phone.
"You're still there."
"I didn't know whether hanging up would look suspicious."
My mother called from the kitchen, "Everything looks suspicious now."
Sienna gave a shaky laugh.
It was painfully normal.
For one second, she was not my husband's mistress or Richard's employee or a person with access to hidden accounts.
She was just a scared woman on a phone call she regretted starting.
I hated that recognition.
It made anger harder to hold cleanly.
Naomi spoke.
"Sienna, I'm going to repeat that you need your own lawyer."
"I know."
"Good."
"I have one name."
"Call them."
"Today."
"Yes."
Sienna went quiet.
Then she said, "Claire?"
I stiffened.
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
May you like
The apology I had imagined many times.
In most versions, I said something devastating.
