Chapter 9
"The photographs are of documents," Harold said.
"Documents with my signature on them.
Transfers I never authorized."
"Those are old records.
They were fully reconciled and explained years ago in the annual audit.
If you'd like, I can have the accounting team pull everything — you can review it yourself.
Dad, listen to me.
She's manipulating you.
She shows up after twenty years with a sick story and a child, and you're ready to believe—"
"She didn't show up," Harold said.
"Lily did.
A little girl walked into my shop with her mother's ring because she had no one else to ask."
The warmth was entirely gone now.
"What do you want?" Victor said.
"I want you to come here."
"That's not going to happen."
"Then I'll come to you.
With the photographs.
And with my attorney."
"Don't do something you can't take back." The change in Victor's voice was so sudden it almost had a sound — a door closing.
"You're sixty-eight years old.
The company is stable.
Your retirement is set.
Do you understand what happens to all of that if you start making accusations you can't prove?
The board will want an investigation.
Everything gets pulled apart.
You'd lose years of work."
"That's your pitch," Harold said quietly.
"You're threatening me."
"I'm protecting you.
From her.
From yourself." A beat.
"She's sick, Dad.
She doesn't have long.
She's probably not thinking straight.
People in her condition — they get desperate.
They look for someone to blame.
Don't let her poison the last of what we've built together."
Harold looked at Anna.
She was watching him, completely still, her hands folded in her lap.
Not pleading.
She wasn't asking him for anything.
She was just watching, the way a person watches when they have already accepted a certain kind of loss.
"Anna," Harold said — not into the phone.
Just to her, in the room.
She looked at him.
"He's still talking," Harold said.
"Do you want to hear what he sounds like?"
May you like
Her lips pressed together.
She gave one small nod.
