Chương 11
Michael: I said I was trying to find a responsible way to handle it.
Amber: You said after the announcement.
Michael: The announcement moved.
Amber: Everything moves when you need more time.
Michael: Lower your voice.
Amber: There’s no one here.
Michael: Then stop acting like there is.
The file ended.
The third was recorded in February.
Michael sounded angry.
I cannot have Catherine finding out now. She’s eight months pregnant.
Amber said, That wasn’t a problem when you came to my apartment.
That was a mistake.
You stayed until morning.
I said it was a mistake.
Then Michael, after a long pause: I care about you. But I’m not leaving my child.
Amber: You told me your marriage was already over.
Michael: Emotionally, it was.
Catherine closed her eyes.
Ruth paused the file.
“Do you want to continue?”
“Yes.”
The fourth recording was from the hotel, less than two hours before Eleanor’s birth.
Amber: Your phone keeps lighting up.
Michael: I can’t do this right now.
Amber: It’s Catherine.
Michael: I know.
Amber: She says they’re inducing.
Michael: They told us last week it could take twelve hours.
Amber: She says she’s scared.
Silence.
Then Michael: Tell her I’m tied up. Don’t be cruel.
Amber laughed faintly.
Michael added, I mean it. Just handle it.
The recording ended.
The room remained quiet.
Catherine looked at Ruth.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“He knew I was scared.”
“Yes.”
“He said not to be cruel.”
“Yes.”
The detail did not comfort her. It made the betrayal more precise.
Michael had known cruelty was possible. He had delegated the risk.
Ruth folded her hands.
“These recordings support Amber’s claim that the relationship intersected with professional decisions. They also suggest your husband made conflicting representations to both of you.”
Leah stared at the dark laptop screen.
“He sounds normal,” she said.
Catherine understood what she meant.
There was no villainous laughter, no raised voice, no cinematic confession. Michael sounded like himself. Calm. Pressured. Slightly impatient. A man arranging problems by importance.
Catherine had spent years below whatever problem spoke the loudest.
“Can the board hear these?” she asked.
“Amber’s attorney may present them.”
“If she does, what happens?”
“An investigation. Delay. Possibly Michael stepping aside from negotiations. Possibly Amber being placed on leave. The merger could survive. It could collapse.”
“Four hundred employees,” Catherine said.
Ruth nodded. “They are not your responsibility alone.”
“They’re not Amber’s either.”
“No.”
“They’re his.”
“In part.”
Catherine stood and walked toward the window. The office overlooked the Chicago River, brown-green beneath a pale sky. Tour boats moved slowly between the buildings.
She wanted a simple enemy.
Amber had mocked her during labor. Amber had slept with her husband, believed his lies, recorded him, threatened the company, and still managed to tell the truth more directly than Michael.
Michael had loved Catherine. Catherine did not doubt that anymore. He had also built a private version of his marriage in which love excused every act of abandonment as long as he planned to return eventually.
“What happens if I correct the statement I signed?” Catherine asked.
“The board receives notice that you were not fully informed about circumstances potentially relevant to the transaction.”
“Do I have to explain?”
“Not immediately.”
“Will they guess?”
“Yes.”
“Will Michael know it came from me?”
“Yes.”
Leah said, “Good.”
Catherine turned.
Leah lifted both palms. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No.”
Ruth replaced her glasses. “You do not have to decide this minute.”
“The vote is Thursday.”
“Yes.”
“What would you do?”
“I don’t answer that question.”
“Why?”
“Because you would hear my decision instead of your own.”
At home that evening, Michael waited on Leah’s porch.
He sat on the top step with his elbows on his knees. The white roses were gone. In their place, he held a paper bag from Catherine’s favorite bakery.
She stopped at the walkway.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Ben told me you had an appointment.”
Leah, behind Catherine, muttered, “I’m going to have a conversation with my husband.”
Michael stood.
“I heard Amber sent you files.”
Catherine looked at him.
“She told me,” he said.
“Of course she did.”
“She’s trying to destroy me.”
“You gave her useful material.”
“Can we talk?”
“Not inside.”
They stood on the porch while Leah went in. Through the front window, Noah pressed his face to the glass until his older brother pulled him away.
Michael held out the bakery bag.
Catherine did not take it.
“I heard the hotel recording,” she said.
His shoulders dropped.
“You knew they were inducing me.”
“I knew, but I didn’t understand the situation.”
“You heard I was scared.”
“I thought you were safe.”
“I wasn’t asking whether you thought I would die.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because you are taking the worst moment of my life and treating it as though it explains every day we had before it.”
Catherine stared at him.
“The worst moment of your life.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t think I do.”
Michael put the bag on the porch railing. “I made terrible decisions. I lied. I was weak. I hurt you. I am not denying any of that.”
“You denied it at the hospital.”
“I was in shock.”
“You denied it in the nursery.”
“I was trying not to lose everything in one conversation.”
“You lost it before the conversation.”
His face tightened.
Catherine continued. “Did you ask me to sign the disclosure because you knew Amber could affect the merger?”
“I believed the relationship was over and immaterial.”
“You believed I didn’t need the truth.”
“I believed the truth would cause pain without changing anything.”
“It changed whether my signature was honest.”
“I didn’t think about it that way.”
“That is the only answer I believe.”
A bus passed at the end of the block, brakes hissing at the corner.
Michael rubbed the back of his neck.
“Are you withdrawing the consent?”
May you like
“I haven’t decided.”
“If you do, the board will postpone the vote.”
