Chapter 3: The Name on the Phone
Julian's thumb moved toward the screen.
I caught his wrist before he reached it.
"Don't."
He didn't try again.
His hand went slack.
I took the phone and set it face-up on the coffee table between us.
The contact name sat there in plain text.
*Warren Holt.* My attorney of eleven years.
The man who had drafted my will, structured every acquisition, and held the access codes to three of my most protected accounts.
Victoria looked at the phone.
Then at me.
Her expression didn't change.
"Warren has always acted in the family's best interests," she said.
"The family," I repeated.
"Yes." She smoothed the front of her dress.
"You were gone, Daniel.
Someone had to make decisions."
"You had my pregnant wife's arms covered in marks," I said.
"That wasn't a decision.
That was a choice."
Julian stepped between us.
"We never touched her.
Whatever she told you—"
"I saw them myself."
The room went quiet.
Julian's jaw moved but nothing came out.
Victoria set her champagne glass on the side table with a small, careful click.
"She bruises easily," Victoria said.
"The pregnancy.
Her iron levels have been low for months.
I've been telling her to see the doctor."
I looked at my mother for a long moment.
Eleven years ago, after my father died, she had held my face in both hands and told me I was the only man she had ever truly trusted.
I had believed her.
I had built everything with that belief underneath it.
"Sit down," I said.
Neither of them moved.
One of my men stepped through the doorway from the hall.
Then a second.
Julian turned and saw them and the color left his face so fast it was almost interesting to watch.
"Sit down," I said again.
"Both of you."
They sat.
I pulled a chair from the dining table, turned it around, and sat facing them with my arms crossed over the back.
"Warren Holt drafted the transfer documents," I said.
"His firm notarized them.
His paralegal witnessed the signatures.
I want to know who approached him first — you or Julian."
Victoria folded her hands in her lap.
"I think you should speak to Warren directly before you say anything you regret."
"I'm not going to regret anything I say tonight."
Julian leaned forward.
"Daniel, listen to me.
Maya has been lying to you.
She came to me two months after you left.
She said she wanted out.
She said she didn't want to raise a child in this life.
Her words.
She asked me to help her move assets quietly so you wouldn't be able to contest it."
I said nothing.
"I have the messages," Julian said.
"I kept everything.
She reached out to me.
I was trying to protect you."
"Show me."
He hesitated for just a fraction of a second.
"They're on my other phone."
"Where is it?"
"Upstairs."
I looked at Marcus, the man standing nearest the door.
He nodded and left the room.
Victoria watched him go.
Something shifted behind her eyes — not fear exactly, but a recalculation.
The kind of look she used to give opposing attorneys when she realized the deposition was going somewhere she hadn't prepared for.
"Julian," she said quietly.
"It's fine," he said.
"I have the messages."
"Julian." Her voice dropped lower.
A warning.
He glanced at her.
Then away.
Marcus returned in four minutes.
He set a second phone on the coffee table beside the first.
Julian reached for it.
I put my hand flat over both phones.
"I'll look," I said.
Julian sat back.
His knee started moving.
I unlocked his personal phone using the thumbprint he hadn't thought to protect before handing it over.
The messages app opened to the most recent thread.
It wasn't Maya's name at the top.
It was Warren Holt's.
The most recent message had been sent forty minutes ago, while Julian and Victoria were still downstairs celebrating.
*He's back.
Do what we discussed.
Tonight.*
I set the phone down slowly.
"Tonight," I said.
Julian's knee stopped moving.
I looked at my mother.
"What were you planning to do tonight, Victoria?"
She picked up her champagne glass.
Took a slow sip.
Set it back down.
"I think," she said, "that you should be very careful about what you accuse me of, Daniel.
You have a great deal to lose.
More than you currently understand."
Upstairs, I heard a door open.
May you like
Maya's footsteps crossed the floor above us, slow and careful.
Then they stopped.
