Part 9
He did not look back at the mansion.
The vehicle pulled away.
Only after it disappeared beyond the gates did Vivian begin to cry.
There was no collapse. No scream. Her breath caught once, then again, and tears moved down her face with humiliating steadiness.
Daniel turned away slightly, giving her the privacy available in a room with three people.
Naomi remained standing near the chair.
She looked unsure whether leaving would be cowardly or staying would be cruel.
Vivian wiped her face with the back of her hand.
The cut at her lip opened again.
Daniel removed a clean handkerchief from his pocket and placed it on the side table.
She picked it up.
“Thank you.”
Naomi spoke quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
Vivian pressed the cloth against her mouth.
“I know.”
Naomi waited.
Vivian lowered the handkerchief.
“That does not help me yet.”
“I understand.”
“You may not understand for a long time.”
Naomi nodded.
Harold returned and said the doctor could see Vivian in forty minutes. He had arranged a car. He also confirmed that Naomi’s laptop, handbag, and two garment cases had been secured in the blue suite.
Naomi asked whether she could take her handbag.
Vivian said yes after Daniel checked that it contained only personal items. The search was awkward. Naomi opened the bag herself and removed a wallet, cosmetics, keys, a phone charger, and a folded envelope.
Daniel did not touch anything.
The envelope bore the logo of Vale House Collective.
Naomi stared at it.
“What is that?” Vivian asked.
Naomi’s fingers tightened around the paper.
“An equity amendment.”
“Signed?”
“By me.”
“And Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“What does it do?”
Naomi looked ill.
“It transfers part of my interest if the first property is not secured by the end of this month.”
“To whom?”
“His subsidiary.”
Daniel said, “Do not discuss the substance further until you have counsel.”
Naomi gave him a bitter look.
“You already know enough to ruin me.”
“I know enough to advise my client to preserve records. What happens to your career will depend partly on what you knew, what you did, and what you do next.”
Naomi folded the envelope again.
“I thought it protected my investment.”
“Perhaps it does,” Daniel said. “Perhaps it does not. Do not sign anything else.”
She placed it back in the handbag.
At the door, Naomi turned toward Vivian.
“I will give you every message.”
Vivian looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because you should know.”
“That is not enough.”
Naomi absorbed the rebuke.
“Because Adrian lied to me and used my company.”
“That is honest.”
Naomi nodded.
“And because I helped him hurt you.”
Vivian said nothing.
Naomi continued.
“I cannot undo that. I can stop protecting him.”
“Send the records to your lawyer first. I do not want you later claiming I pressured you.”
Daniel glanced at Vivian with quiet approval.
Naomi seemed surprised.
Then she nodded.
“I’ll do that.”
Harold escorted her out.
The burgundy gown disappeared through the tall white doors.
Vivian and Daniel were left alone in the salon.
The room looked almost unchanged. Chairs in place. Chandeliers lit. Sunlight on the floor. Only the twisted pearl neckline, the handkerchief stained red, and the absence of two people marked what had happened.
Daniel finally set nothing down.
He continued holding the briefcase in his right hand.
Vivian looked at it.
“Are you ever going to open that?”
“Not until we are somewhere private with a table.”
“This is private.”
“It is also a room where your husband struck you. I would prefer not to turn it into an office.”
The distinction touched her.
She stood slowly.
“Then take me to the doctor.”
The examination took twelve minutes.
Dr. Feld’s associate photographed the cut, checked Vivian’s teeth, tested her jaw, and asked whether she had lost consciousness. She had not. The injury needed no stitches. She was told to use ice, avoid spicy food, and return if pain worsened.
The doctor asked the safety questions in a calm voice.
Did she feel safe going home?
Was the person who injured her still there?
Did she want help contacting law enforcement or a domestic violence advocate?
Vivian answered carefully.
Adrian had left. Security was present. Her lawyer was waiting outside.
She declined immediate police contact but asked for the injury to be documented in her medical record. The doctor did not pressure her.
“You can decide later,” she said. “Preserve photographs and messages. Do not meet him alone.”
On the ride back, Vivian sat beside Daniel in the rear seat. The black briefcase rested upright on the floor between his shoes, his right hand still curled around the handle.
Traffic slowed near a grocery store.
A man pushed carts beneath a red awning. Two teenagers argued beside a bus stop. Someone walked a small white dog wearing a yellow raincoat despite the clear sky.
Vivian watched the dog refuse to move.
Its owner bent down and negotiated with it.
The ordinariness of the scene made her chest ache.
“Do I have to report the hit?” she asked.
Daniel looked out his window before answering.
“No one can make that decision for you. The medical documentation exists. The house footage may show events before and after. There may be consequences if you delay, but there may also be reasons you need time. I can refer you to counsel who handles protective orders and criminal matters. I should not advise beyond my area.”
“Will it look like leverage if I report it during the divorce?”
“Adrian may claim that. It does not change what happened.”
“What would you do?”
“I would not use my answer as a substitute for yours.”
She frowned.
“That is irritating.”
“Yes.”
The dog finally moved three steps, then sat again.
Daniel watched it.
“My mother’s terrier used to do that.”
“She never had a terrier.”
“She did for six days. It belonged to a cousin who went to Atlantic City.”
Vivian almost smiled.
May you like
“What happened?”
“The dog ate half a sofa cushion. My mother returned it before the cousin came home.”
