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"Ownership thresholds."
"Loan guarantees."
"Estate planning."
"Tax reporting."
"Control arrangements."
"Sometimes legitimate."
"Sometimes not."
"Would I owe taxes?"
"Maybe."
"Could I owe money?"
"Maybe."
"Could I be accused of something?"
A pause.
"Potentially."
My mouth went dry.
"And yesterday I signed a release saying I wouldn't investigate."
"Yes."
I stared at the floor.
The carpet fibers blurred.
For six months, I had imagined exposing Julian's family.
I had imagined subpoenas, frightened phone calls, angry relatives, maybe the collapse of a business that had always seemed too polished.
I had not imagined my own name sitting inside the machinery.
That was arrogance.
I had been so busy believing I was the person outside the conspiracy that I had never considered I might already be recorded inside it.
Naomi softened.
"Claire."
"I'm here."
"Do not catastrophize."
"I might have my name on fraudulent accounts."
"You might have your name on documents you didn't knowingly authorize."
"Those are different things."
"They may look similar from far away."
"That's why evidence matters."
"That's why intent matters."
"That's why we preserve the timeline."
I swallowed.
"Do investigators know I copied records?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"They know you sought legal advice before providing anything."
"They know what you had lawful access to and what you did not."
"They know Marcus reviewed chain-of-custody issues."
"Nobody is promising you zero risk."
"But you're not walking into this blind."
That helped less than I wanted it to.
"Can I leave the house?"
"Of course."
"I mean with the twins."
"Yes."
"Should I?"
Naomi paused.
"Are you asking whether you're in physical danger?"
"I don't know."
"Has anyone threatened you?"
"No."
"Has anyone tried to enter the house unlawfully?"
"No."
"Has anyone followed you?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then I wouldn't turn fear into fact."
"But I would avoid being alone tonight."
"My mom's here."
"Good."
"Change passwords."
"Make sure your location-sharing settings are intentional."
"Don't open the door casually."
"Normal precautions."
"Not panic."
I looked toward the window.
The leaf blower had stopped.
The sudden quiet felt strange.
"Okay."
"One more thing."
"What?"
"The agreement."
My stomach tightened again.
"Price sent my office a scan of the version Julian brought back from the car."
"And?"
"The initials beside the added custody paragraph are not the only difference."
I stood.
"What else changed?"
"The business waiver."
"How?"
"The hospital version you photographed prevents you from investigating certain entities after execution."
"The altered version adds language saying you had no prior knowledge of irregular activity involving those entities."
I gripped the phone harder.
"They wanted me to certify that I knew nothing."
"That's how it reads."
"But I did know something."
"You had concerns and records."
"Yes."
"And if I had signed that version?"
"You didn't."
"Naomi."
"You didn't."
Her voice became firmer.
"Do not let an attempted alteration become an accomplished one in your head."
I sat again.
"Who would benefit?"
"Someone concerned about what you could say you knew and when you knew it."
"Richard."
"Possibly."
"Martin."
"Possibly."
"Julian?"
A longer pause.
"Possibly."
I closed my eyes.
The word lodged differently that time.
"Do you think he did it?"
"My job is not to think emotionally about your husband."
"Convenient."
"It is."
I almost smiled.
Then Naomi said, "But Price appears genuinely surprised by the altered version."
"That matters."
"Does that help Julian?"
"It may."
"Or it may mean Julian bypassed his own lawyer."
"Also possible."
I hated possible.
Possible was a room with no doors.
Naomi continued.
"Someone from my office will be there within the hour."
"Don't discuss the bank authorization with Julian until then."
I looked toward the door.
"He already heard part of it."
"Then tell him counsel advised you not to discuss it."
"He'll hate that."
"He can survive discomfort."
"So can you."
We ended the call.
I stayed on the bed for another minute.
From the living room came my mother's voice.
"No, the bottle goes in warm water."
Julian answered, "That's what I'm doing."
"That's hot water."
"It's not boiling."
"Neither is lava until you get technical."
I put my face in my hands.
A laugh tried to escape and turned into something closer to a sob.
I pressed my palms harder against my eyes.
There was no dramatic breakdown.
No collapse.
Just three quiet breaths that shook.
Then four.
Then I wiped my face with the heel of my hand because I had no tissues.
When I opened the guest-room door, Julian was standing in the hallway.
He had heard.
Of course he had.
He did not ask if I was all right.
For once, he chose the right thing not to say.
"I need a lawyer," he said.
"Yes."
"Not Price?"
"I don't know."
"He told me to get separate counsel if conflicts came up."
"Then do that."
He nodded.
I moved past him.
He caught my sleeve lightly.
I looked down at his hand.
He released it immediately.
"Claire."
"What?"
"Was my login used?"
I looked at him.
His fear seemed real.
That proved nothing.
"Naomi told me not to discuss it."
His face hardened, then softened again.
"Okay."
I waited.
He swallowed.
"I haven't logged into Bellmere in months."
"Don't tell me."
"What?"
"Tell your lawyer."
"I'm telling you because I need you to know."
"I don't know what I need to know anymore."
That stopped him.
He looked toward the living room.
Leo slept in one bassinet.
Oliver was awake in the other, staring upward with the unfocused seriousness of a newborn.
Julian rubbed both hands over his face.
"I changed my Bellmere password in July."
I said nothing.
"My father told me there had been suspicious access."
I felt something cold move through me.
"When in July?"
"Middle of the month."
"Was Sienna already using it?"
"Yes."
"Did you change it after she got access?"
"Yes."
"Did you give her the new password?"
"No."
My chest tightened.
"Then how did she keep accessing it?"
He looked at me.
May you like
Neither of us spoke.
He pulled out his phone.
