Chapter 4: The Brother Who Called
I stared at Aaron's name on the screen.
Aaron had never called me directly.
Not once in four years.
He communicated through Lauren, or through Daniel, or not at all.
The fact that he was calling now — two days after I had cancelled every payment, one hour after I had learned about Victor Salles — was not a coincidence.
I answered.
"Mariana." His voice was different from his usual easy laugh.
Careful.
Measured.
"I think we should talk.
Just the two of us."
"About what?"
"About what you found." A pause.
"Robert talks to his assistant.
His assistant talks to people.
Word travels."
"Does Daniel know you're calling me?"
"No."
I waited.
"I'm not calling to defend him," Aaron said.
"I want you to understand that."
"Then what are you calling to do?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
"There are things you don't know yet.
Things that are going to come out whether you push or not.
I'd rather you heard some of it from me first."
"Why?"
"Because Lauren and I have a daughter," he said.
"She's four years old.
And I am not going to let what Daniel did drag my family down with him."
That landed differently than I expected.
I kept my voice level.
"Meet me at the coffee shop on Crane Street.
One hour."
He was already there when I arrived, seated at a corner table with his hands wrapped around a mug he hadn't touched.
He looked like a man who hadn't slept.
Lauren's husband.
The one who had laughed at the dinner table two nights ago.
*That's because Lauren has class.*
I sat down across from him and said nothing.
"Victor Salles is Daniel's friend from university," Aaron said.
"They've known each other for fifteen years.
Victor has never done a renovation in his life.
He runs a private gambling operation out of two locations across town."
I kept my face still.
"Daniel has a gambling problem."
"Daniel has had a gambling problem for six years.
Before you.
During you.
The debt he carried into your marriage was already significant.
You just became the solution."
The coffee shop hummed around us.
Someone at the counter laughed at something.
"Did your mother know?" I asked.
Aaron looked at his mug.
"She's known since before the wedding."
"And Lauren?"
He hesitated one second too long.
"Aaron."
"Lauren found out about eight months ago," he said.
"She came across a transfer notice that had been misfiled.
She told me.
I told Daniel to stop.
He said he would." Aaron's jaw tightened.
"He didn't stop."
"And neither of you told me."
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
"How much does he owe Victor now?" I asked.
"As of last month — Daniel told me it was around forty thousand.
But I don't think that's the full number."
I opened my bag and placed Robert's printed summary on the table between us.
Aaron looked at it.
His face went still.
"Sixty-two thousand," I said.
"Documented.
Eighteen months.
And the first transfer was eleven days after our wedding."
Aaron stared at the page.
He pushed it back toward me slowly, like it had weight.
"Mariana," he said.
"I'm sorry.
I should have told you sooner.
I kept thinking he would fix it himself."
"He wasn't going to fix it," I said.
"He was going to keep using me until there was nothing left to use."
I put the summary back in my bag and stood up.
"The forensic accountant starts Monday," I said.
"If there is anything else you know — anything at all — I need you to tell me before she finds it herself.
Because if she finds it first, and your name is attached to it in any way, I cannot protect you."
Aaron looked up.
"My name isn't on any of the transfers."
"Make sure," I said.
I left him at the table.
Outside, I called Grace Tan and left a message asking her to move the start date to Friday.
My phone buzzed as I reached my car.
A text from Daniel: *Aaron just called me.
Whatever he told you, it's not the whole story.
Please, Mari.
Let me explain.*
I read it once.
Put the phone in my pocket.
Got in the car.
May you like
He had eleven days to explain.
He had chosen four years of silence instead.
