Chapter 8: Monday Morning
Patricia filed at 8:47 a.m.
I was sitting in her office when she did it, in the chair across from her desk, a coffee I wasn't drinking in my hand.
"Done," she said, and turned her monitor toward me so I could see the confirmation number.
"What happens now?"
"Julian's attorney receives formal notice within the hour.
After that, it's up to them how they respond." She folded her hands on the desk.
"Given what's developing on the financial side, I would expect them to be motivated toward a quiet resolution."
"He threatened to make it long and expensive."
"He did that before he knew about the investigation." Patricia's expression didn't change, but something behind her eyes did.
"People recalibrate when the ground shifts."
I nodded.
My phone buzzed.
Not the prepaid one — my regular phone, which I'd turned back on that morning.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*This is Sienna.
I know you have no reason to listen to me.
But I need you to know that I didn't know about the money.
I didn't know what he was doing.
When I found out, I ended it.
That's why he brought me to the airport — he was trying to keep me close so I couldn't talk to anyone.*
I read it twice.
Then I showed it to Patricia.
She read it once.
"Interesting."
"Do I believe her?"
"That's not the right question yet." Patricia set my phone on the desk between us.
"The right question is whether she's willing to say that to investigators."
I picked the phone back up and typed one line.
*Are you willing to speak to an attorney?*
The reply came in under a minute.
*Yes.
I've been waiting for someone to ask.*
Patricia was already reaching for her own phone.
"I'll make a call," she said.
I stood up and walked to the window of her office.
Forty-third floor.
The city spread out below in every direction, ordinary and enormous, full of people making decisions they'd have to live with.
I thought about the airport.
The white dress.
The practiced smile.
I thought about Julian's face when I'd said "business comes first" — the relief on it, the ease, the absolute certainty that I would absorb it quietly and keep walking.
He had known me for three years and understood nothing about me.
"Clara." Patricia's voice behind me.
"His attorney just called mine."
I turned.
"They want to talk settlement."
"Already?"
"The investigation notice landed twenty minutes ago." She set her phone down.
"His attorney used the phrase 'mutually beneficial resolution.' "
"What does that mean in plain language?"
"It means Julian wants this to go away before it gets louder.
He'll give you what you're asking for in the annulment.
Possibly more."
"I don't want more.
I want what's mine."
"Then you'll have it." Patricia picked up her pen.
"And the financial matter is separate — that's between him and the SEC.
You're a witness in that proceeding, not a target.
Your account was used without your knowledge.
That's documented."
"And Sienna?"
"If she cooperates, her exposure is significantly reduced." Patricia looked at me steadily.
"She may have been used too, Clara.
Not to the same degree as you.
But used."
I thought about that.
The white dress at the airport.
The practiced smile.
*I'm so sorry to interrupt your honeymoon.*
I'd read her eyes as cruelty that morning.
Now I wondered if what I'd seen was something closer to fear.
"Set up the meeting," I said.
"With Sienna's attorney present."
Patricia nodded.
I picked up my coffee.
It had gone cold.
May you like
I drank it anyway.
Some things you finish not because they're good but because you started them and you don't leave things unfinished.
