Chapter 8: What Nathan Did When the Walls Closed In
The referral went to the financial crimes unit at 7:22 that evening.
By nine o'clock, Nathan had a new lawyer.
I knew because Miriam's contact at the courthouse sent her the retainer filing.
The new lawyer was a man named Prescott Hale — the kind of attorney whose name appeared in financial fraud cases, not divorce proceedings.
Nathan had understood, finally, what kind of problem he was in.
The next morning, Prescott Hale called Miriam directly.
I sat across from her in her office and listened to her side of the conversation.
"Yes," Miriam said.
"I'm aware of Mr.
Royce's position." A pause.
"That's not how this works, Mr.
Hale." Another pause, longer.
"Then I suggest your client think carefully about what cooperation actually means before he uses that word again." She looked at me.
"I'll convey that to my client.
Goodbye."
She set the phone down.
"Nathan wants to negotiate," she said.
"He's offering to surrender his fourteen percent Aurelia stake voluntarily in exchange for the assault charge being reduced to a civil matter."
"He h\*t me in front of thirty people and a security camera," I said.
"Yes."
"What does surrendering his shares get him?"
"Nothing, legally.
The assault charge is the police's to pursue, not mine.
The forgery charge is separate and stronger.
And the financial crimes referral names him as a co-conspirator with Voss, which Prescott Hale clearly hasn't fully absorbed yet." Miriam folded her hands.
"Nathan is negotiating as if this is still a divorce.
He doesn't understand it became a criminal matter."
"Let him keep not understanding," I said.
"For now."
That afternoon, Celeste Hart's lawyer called.
I hadn't expected that one.
Miriam took the call on speaker.
The lawyer's name was Diane Chu, and she spoke quickly and precisely.
"My client is prepared to provide a full account of her role in uploading the proxy document," Diane said.
"She will confirm the credentials were provided to her by Gabriel Mercer — the original Gabriel Mercer — approximately six years ago, and that she was instructed by Aldric Voss to use them to upload the document when the time came.
She did not forge the signature.
She was not present when the signature was forged.
She can name the person who created the document."
Miriam and I looked at each other.
"Who forged the signature?" Miriam asked.
"My client will provide that information in exchange for a cooperation agreement."
"We'll need the name before we can evaluate any agreement," Miriam said.
A pause.
"The document was created by a notary named Philip Strand.
Mr.
Strand has a prior professional relationship with Aldric Voss spanning fourteen years.
My client has text messages, two emails, and a payment record."
Miriam wrote the name down.
"We'll be in touch."
She ended the call.
"Celeste is cutting Nathan loose," I said.
"And Voss," Miriam said.
"She's handing us the forger.
With documentation." She looked at her notes.
"Philip Strand.
If his prior relationship with Voss is as long as she says, this connects the forgery directly to Voss's operation — not just to Nathan."
"Nathan still knew," I said.
"Nathan still knew.
But now we have the chain.
Voss designed it.
Strand created it.
Celeste uploaded it.
Nathan filed it." She set her pen down.
"Emma.
This is over for them.
All of them.
The only question now is the sequence."
My phone buzzed.
A message from a number I recognized this time.
Nathan.
*I know your father is alive.
I've known for two years.
I didn't tell you because Voss told me not to.
That's the one thing I did that I actually regret.
I'm sorry.*
I read it three times.
Then I set my phone face-down on Miriam's desk.
"He knew," I said.
"For two years.
He knew my father was alive and he said nothing."
Miriam was quiet for a moment.
"Does that change anything legally?"
"No," I said.
"But it changes something else."
I didn't explain what.
She didn't ask.
Outside the window, the city was moving the way it always moved — indifferent, continuous, unconcerned with what had just collapsed inside one marriage and one company and one family.
I thought about the ring I had left on the glass counter.
May you like
I hadn't gone back for it.
I wasn't going to.
