Chapter 6: Vanessa's Last Move
By seven in the morning, the injunction had been filed, Daniel's counter-response was drafted, and a family law attorney named Patricia Wren had been reached by phone and was driving up from Denver.
Nathan had not told Vanessa any of this.
He had fed the girls breakfast — real breakfast, eggs and toast and orange juice, Carol standing at the stove with the quiet efficiency of someone who had been waiting months to do exactly this — and settled them in the east sitting room with their Christmas gifts still unopened in the silver bags.
Vanessa came downstairs at eight-fifteen in a silk robe, her hair perfect, her expression arranged into something that was meant to look like calm.
She stopped when she saw Carol at the kitchen sink.
"What is she doing in my house?" Vanessa said.
"Making breakfast," Nathan said.
"I want her out."
"Carol stays."
Vanessa's eyes moved to the canvas bag on the table, then to Nathan's face.
Something shifted behind her composure, fast and small, like a light going off in a back room.
"We should talk privately," she said.
"We can talk here."
She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.
She placed both hands on the table, composed, deliberate.
"I've spoken to my attorney this morning.
He believes the injunction will hold.
The prenuptial dispute is legitimate, Nathan.
I have texts from you discussing the Vela transfers.
I have them."
Nathan looked at her.
"Show me," he said.
She unlocked her phone and slid it across the table.
Nathan looked at the screen.
A text thread, his name at the top.
Three messages, all from eight months ago.
*Marcus needs capital.
Can we discuss?*
*I'll look at the numbers when I'm back from Tokyo.*
*Let's make it work.*
Nathan read them twice.
"Those are real," he said.
"Yes."
"I sent those about a potential investment Marcus pitched to me directly.
I never agreed to anything.
I never saw a proposal.
I never authorized a transfer." He slid the phone back.
"My attorney has the full message thread, including my reply two weeks later saying I had reviewed the pitch and was not interested."
Vanessa's hands stayed flat on the table.
"You cut the messages," Nathan said.
"You took three lines out of a longer conversation and gave them to your lawyer as authorization."
"That is your interpretation."
"It's also Daniel's interpretation.
And it will be the judge's interpretation when she sees the full thread alongside forty-one unauthorized transfers and a recording of you telling Marcus to move money before my accountant ran a quarterly review."
The color left Vanessa's face slowly, like water draining from a glass.
"You don't have a recording," she said.
Carol turned from the sink and looked at Vanessa without expression.
Vanessa looked at Carol.
Then at the canvas bag.
Then back at Nathan.
"Whatever she told you," Vanessa said, "she is a disgruntled former employee.
She was let go for cause.
Her word means nothing."
"Her word, her notebook, her bank statement copies, and her recording," Nathan said.
"Combined with the girls' testimony, the scratch marks on the door frame, and the full Caldwell Systems transfer records that Daniel is pulling this morning."
Vanessa stood up.
"I want to see my lawyer before I say another word."
"That is your right," Nathan said.
"Patricia Wren arrives at ten.
She represents the girls and this household.
Your lawyer is welcome to coordinate with her office."
"Patricia Wren." Vanessa said the name like she recognized it.
Her chin lifted.
"You called her last night."
"I called her at three-thirty this morning."
For a moment Vanessa stood very still at the head of the kitchen table, her silk robe, her perfect hair, the diamonds she had apparently slept in still at her throat.
She looked at Nathan.
She looked at Carol.
She looked at the canvas bag.
Then she looked toward the east sitting room, where the sound of four small voices had started up, the girls discovering their Christmas gifts for the first time, someone — Lily, it sounded like — laughing at something inside a silver bag.
Something crossed Vanessa's face that Nathan could not name.
"I could have loved them," she said quietly.
"If you had been here."
Nathan said nothing.
She walked out of the kitchen.
Her heels crossed the marble foyer.
The staircase creaked twice.
A door closed upstairs, not hard, just closed.
May you like
Carol set a fresh mug of coffee in front of Nathan without a word.
From the east sitting room, Lily laughed again.
