Chapter 5: The Man Who Was Supposed to Make It Go Away
His lawyer's name was Gerald Fitch.
Richard had used Gerald for twenty-two years.
Gerald had made problems disappear — quietly, efficiently, and without asking questions that Richard didn't want answered.
He was the kind of lawyer who understood that his job was not to find the truth but to manage it.
Richard called him from the study with the door locked.
"She has documents," Richard said, without greeting.
"Transfer records.
Eleven of them, she claims.
And she says she has Martin."
There was a pause on the other end.
"How long has she been in the house?" Gerald asked.
"Three months."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"Richard, I need you to listen to me very carefully.
Do not say anything else to her.
Do not engage.
I'm going to make some calls and I'll be there by noon."
"She said you've been in contact with Martin."
The pause that followed was a different kind.
Richard had known Gerald long enough to hear the difference.
"That's not something we should discuss on the phone," Gerald said.
Richard hung up.
He sat for a moment with the phone in his hand.
Then he unlocked the study door and walked back to the kitchen.
Elena was wiping down the counter, her back to him.
"Gerald Fitch," Richard said.
"You've spoken to him."
Elena kept wiping the counter.
"I've spoken to a lot of people."
"What did he tell you?"
She turned around.
"He didn't tell me anything, Mr.
Calloway.
I didn't need him to.
I needed him to know that I existed.
That's different."
"You were pressuring him."
"I was introducing myself," she said.
"There's a difference."
Richard pulled out a chair and sat down heavily.
For a man who had controlled every room he had ever entered, he looked suddenly like someone who had run out of rooms.
"What do you actually want from me?" he said.
Elena folded the cloth and set it on the counter.
She sat down across from him again.
"My father's name was Thomas Voss," she said.
"He built a logistics company from nothing.
He worked eighteen-hour days for eleven years.
He brought you in as a partner because he trusted you and because he needed capital to expand.
Within two years, everything he built was gone.
His name was removed from the company records.
His shares were transferred under a signature that wasn't his.
And when he tried to fight it, someone convinced him to sign a document saying he wouldn't."
"He signed it voluntarily."
"He signed it because someone threatened my mother," Elena said.
The room went very still.
"That is not—" Richard started.
"Her name is Patricia Voss.
She was forty-one years old at the time.
She received three phone calls in one week.
The caller never identified himself.
She reported it to the police.
The report was filed and then closed without investigation." Elena's voice did not waver.
"My father signed the NDA four days after the last call.
He never told me why until the year before he d*ed.
He wrote it in a letter.
I found it after the funeral."
Richard's face had gone pale.
"I don't know who made those calls," he said.
"I believe you," Elena said.
Richard blinked.
He hadn't expected that.
"But you know who did," she continued.
"And that person is still protected by your silence.
That's what I'm here about, Mr.
Calloway.
Not you.
Not entirely."
Richard stood up and walked to the window.
The gardener was gone.
The grounds were empty and very green and very quiet.
"If I tell you what I know," he said slowly, "there is no version of that conversation that doesn't end badly for me."
"There is one version," Elena said.
"But it requires you to decide, right now, which side of this you want to be on when it's over."
Richard didn't turn around.
His reflection looked back at him from the dark edge of the window glass — older than he felt, more tired than he wanted to admit.
"Gerald didn't just manage the NDA," he said finally.
"He arranged the calls to your mother.
I didn't ask him to.
I found out afterward."
Elena said nothing.
She let the silence do its work.
"I should have stopped it," Richard said.
"I told myself I didn't know until it was already done.
That's true.
But I knew afterward, and I didn't do anything about it."
He turned around.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For whatever that is worth to you after fifteen years."
Elena looked at him steadily.
"It's a start," she said.
May you like
"But I need more than sorry.
I need you to say it where it counts."
