Chapter 6: She Called from the Driveway
Gerald's office was on the fourteenth floor of a building that smelled like old carpet and expensive coffee.
Richard had been coming here for thirty years.
He knew which chair creaked, which window faced the park, and exactly how Gerald looked when he was worried versus when he was simply thinking.
He was thinking now.
"She called at eleven forty-seven," Gerald said, setting his reading glasses on the desk.
"She wants a settlement.
Clean, private, no court involvement.
She's asking for the house — or its equivalent value in cash — plus four years of what she's calling 'spousal contribution compensation.'"
"What number?"
"She hasn't named one yet.
She said she'll have a figure by Friday."
Richard was quiet.
"She also said—" Gerald paused.
"She said she has documentation.
Medical records for Ethan.
She's claiming the records show a pattern of neglect that predates her involvement in the household."
"That's fabricated."
"Almost certainly.
But fabricated documentation still has to be answered.
It still costs money and time to disprove." Gerald folded his hands.
"She's not stupid, Richard.
She knows she's lost the house.
She's trying to monetize the exit."
"What's your recommendation?"
"Fight it.
Completely.
The recording from last night is strong.
Her behavior with the child is documented by Mrs.
Holt.
And if she's producing false medical records, that's a serious legal exposure for her." He leaned back.
"But I want you to be prepared.
This gets uglier before it gets cleaner."
Richard nodded.
"What does she actually have on Mark?
She mentioned things he'd told her.
Confidences."
Gerald's expression shifted slightly.
"That's the part I want to discuss."
He opened a folder on his desk and slid a single page across.
Richard read it.
He read it again.
"When did you know about this?" he asked.
"Three weeks ago.
Mark came to me directly.
He wanted it on record before any of this happened." Gerald watched Richard's face.
"He was protecting you.
He knew she might use it."
The page described a business decision Richard had made fourteen years ago.
A property deal.
A partner who had been quietly bought out under terms that were legal but not, by any generous reading, fair.
The partner had signed.
The partner had been compensated.
But the compensation had been structured in a way that benefited Richard considerably more than it should have.
It wasn't a crime.
But in the wrong hands, framed the wrong way, it was a story.
"She found this," Richard said.
"Mark told her about it during the marriage.
Early on, when he was still angry at you.
He didn't know she'd kept it."
Richard set the page down.
"She's going to use it as leverage."
"She's going to try.
The question is whether we give her the opportunity."
"What does Mark want?"
"Mark wants to protect Ethan and get out of the marriage.
He told me he doesn't care what it costs him personally." Gerald paused.
"He also said — and I'm quoting — 'Tell my father I'm sorry.
For all of it.'"
Richard looked out the window at the park below.
A woman was pushing a pram along the path.
A dog ran ahead of her on a long lead.
"Set up a meeting," he said.
"Not with her lawyer.
With her directly.
No intermediaries."
Gerald raised an eyebrow.
"That's unusual."
"I know."
"She'll bring someone."
"Let her."
Gerald studied him for a moment.
"What are you planning, Richard?"
Richard stood and picked up his coat from the back of the chair.
"She wants to negotiate.
I want to look her in the eye when she does it." He paused at the door.
"She thinks she knows what this family is worth.
She doesn't know the half of it."
Gerald's phone rang as Richard left.
He heard the older man answer it, heard the brief pause, then heard Gerald say, in a tone Richard had never heard from him before:
"Say that again."
Richard stopped in the hallway.
Gerald appeared in the doorway, his reading glasses in his hand.
"That was the family court clerk," he said.
"Someone filed an emergency custody application this morning."
"Mark?"
May you like
"No." Gerald looked at him steadily.
"Claudia."
