Chapter 4: Downstairs
My lawyer didn't answer.
It was a Saturday.
I left a message anyway, standing in that hallway with Sophie on my hip and Marcus pressed against the wall like he was trying to disappear into it.
Amanda had gone quiet in a way that felt more dangerous than her talking.
"You should go downstairs," she said finally.
"There are a hundred and twelve people waiting for you."
"I know."
"If you walk down there and say something, you can't take it back.
You'll humiliate yourself.
You'll humiliate Sophie."
"Sophie was already crying on the floor of your bridal suite," I said.
"That happened first."
She flinched.
Just slightly.
I looked at Marcus.
"Are you a lawyer?"
He shook his head.
"Property consultant."
"Did you know she was going to marry me?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"I knew there was a target.
I didn't ask questions about the personal side."
"A target," I said.
He had the decency to look ashamed.
I shifted Sophie higher on my arm.
She had her arms around my neck and hadn't let go since I'd picked her up.
I could feel her listening to everything.
"Soph," I said quietly.
"Can you do something brave for me?"
She nodded against my shoulder.
"I need you to go find Uncle Ray.
He's downstairs near the back.
Tell him Daddy needs him up here.
Can you do that?"
She pulled back and looked at my face.
Checking whether I was okay.
"I'll be right here," I said.
She nodded again, slid down from my arm, and walked to the staircase without looking at Amanda once.
I watched her go.
Then I turned back.
"She's six years old," I said to Amanda.
"She found your phone in her flower basket.
Do you want to explain how it got there?"
"It fell out of my bag."
"Into a closed basket."
"Things fall, Daniel."
"She heard you on the phone at night," I said.
"She heard you say my name and a number.
She's been scared of you for weeks and I didn't listen to her."
Amanda's expression shifted — not guilt, something colder.
"Children have vivid imaginations."
"She was right," I said.
"About everything."
Footsteps on the stairs.
Ray appeared at the top — my older brother, still in his suit jacket, confused and slightly out of breath.
"Dan?
What's going on?
People are starting to—" He stopped when he saw Amanda's face.
Then the folder in my hand.
Then Marcus.
"Who is that?"
"This is Marcus," I said.
"He and Amanda have been planning to take the house."
Ray looked at Amanda.
She said, "Raymond, your brother is having some kind of episode.
He found—"
"Don't talk to him," I said.
"Ray, I need you to go back downstairs and ask everyone to wait.
Tell them there's a delay.
Don't say anything else."
Ray didn't move immediately.
He was still looking at Amanda.
"Ray."
He turned to me.
Something in my face must have been clear enough, because he nodded once and went back down without another word.
Amanda watched him go.
Then she turned back to me, and the reasonable expression was completely gone now.
"You're making a mistake," she said.
"You have no idea what you're doing."
"I'm starting to," I said.
"That folder is not legally admissible.
Marcus came here as a private consultant.
There is nothing in writing that connects me to any of this."
"The voice note connects you," I said.
A pause.
"The messages connect you," I said.
"Fourteen months of them."
Her chin lifted.
"A phone found by a six-year-old in a flower basket.
Good luck with that."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"You're not worried," I said.
"Why aren't you worried?"
She smoothed the front of her dress.
"Because you love me.
And when you calm down, you're going to remember that."
Downstairs, the music had stopped.
In the silence, my phone buzzed.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*Daniel.
My name is Carol Simms.
I'm a paralegal.
I've been working with Amanda and Marcus for four months.
May you like
I think you need to see what I have.
I'm outside.*
