Chapter 6: The Name She Said
"Who?" Fabio asked.
Vivienne reached into the folder and pulled out an envelope that had been tucked beneath the others, flat against the cardboard backing.
She held it but didn't hand it over.
"Before I give you this," she said, "I want something in return."
"You're not in a position to negotiate."
"I'm always in a position to negotiate." She set the envelope on her knee.
"I want the attorneys to stand down.
I want the documentation your father kept to stay private.
No legal action.
No public disclosure."
Fabio looked at the envelope.
"And in exchange," he said slowly, "you give me a letter that names someone I trust."
"Yes."
"So either I protect you, or I find out who betrayed me."
"That's one way to put it."
He was quiet for a moment.
I watched his jaw work.
"Give me the envelope, Vivienne."
"We haven't agreed—"
"Give me the envelope, or I walk out of here and call Hargreave and Solt before I reach the lobby."
Her fingers tightened on it.
Then she held it out.
He crossed the room.
Took it.
Opened it standing right there, three feet from her, and read it where she could see his face.
I watched him read it.
I watched the moment it landed.
His chin dropped slightly.
Just slightly.
Then he looked up.
"When did he write this?" he asked.
"Eight months before he passed."
"And you've had it since—"
"Since the estate was settled.
Yes."
Fabio folded the letter.
He put it in his jacket pocket.
"I need to make a phone call," he said to me.
"Okay."
He looked at Vivienne.
"We're not done."
"I know," she said.
And for once she didn't sound triumphant about it.
In the elevator going down, Fabio stared at the floor numbers changing above the door.
I didn't ask.
I waited.
I had learned, in the year we'd been together, that he needed a few minutes to organize something before he could speak it out loud.
At the lobby level, the doors opened.
He didn't move.
"It was Uncle Ren," he said.
I turned to look at him.
"My father's brother.
He helped her set up the account.
He was the co-signer." Fabio finally stepped out of the elevator.
"He's also the executor of Dad's estate."
I stopped walking.
"Fabio."
"He controlled what got distributed and what didn't.
He decided what the attorneys received." He pushed through the hotel's front door and we stepped out into the afternoon air.
"If he was working with Vivienne from the beginning, then the documentation Dad kept — the things the attorneys have — Ren would have known what to include and what to leave out."
"You think he filtered it."
"I think it's possible." He stopped on the pavement.
He pulled out his phone.
"I need to call someone who isn't Ren."
He called a woman named Grace — a name I recognized.
She had handled the legal side of Fabio's firm for four years.
Contracts, disputes, the occasional difficult client.
He trusted her completely, which now felt significant.
"Grace.
I need you to look into something for me.
Independently of Hargreave and Solt." He listened.
"Yes, today if possible.
I'll explain when I see you."
He hung up.
We stood on the pavement outside Vivienne's hotel, the city moving around us, and I thought about the fact that three days ago we had been getting married.
"Are you all right?" I asked.
He looked at me.
Something in his face was tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
"I keep thinking about what Dad said in the letter.
That he kept quiet about all of it to protect me." He shook his head.
"He protected me from Vivienne.
He didn't know he needed to protect me from Ren too."
"You don't know yet that Ren did anything wrong."
"No," he said.
"But I know Vivienne doesn't give away information for free.
If she told me about Ren, it's because she thinks it helps her somehow."
I thought about that.
"She's redirecting you," I said.
"Yes."
"She wants you looking at Ren so you stop looking at her."
"Yes." He put his phone back in his pocket.
"Which means whatever Ren did, she did more."
He took my hand.
May you like
We started walking.
Behind us, forty-three floors up, I had no doubt that Vivienne was already on her phone.
