Chapter 7: The Meeting
Eleanor chose a hotel restaurant in downtown Seattle.
Neutral ground, she had said.
Somewhere quiet.
She arrived before us, which told me she was anxious.
Eleanor Vance was never early.
Being early meant you needed something.
She was seated at a corner table, her back to the wall, wearing a charcoal blazer and the expression she reserved for situations she intended to manage.
Her attorney — a man named Forsythe, silver-haired and careful — sat to her left.
Daniel and I sat across from them.
I had my daughter in a carrier against my chest.
Eleanor's eyes went to her immediately, then away.
She did not comment.
"Thank you for coming," Eleanor said.
"You asked," I said.
Forsythe opened a leather portfolio.
"My client would like to discuss a resolution that avoids further—"
"Before we discuss anything," Daniel said, "I want to confirm that your client understands the current scope of the investigation.
Federal wire fraud.
Forgery of financial instruments.
Conspiracy." He set a single document on the table.
"This is the referral confirmation.
The financial crimes unit accepted the case four days ago."
Forsythe looked at the document.
Something moved behind his eyes.
Eleanor did not look at it.
She kept her eyes on me.
"You were never supposed to find the Crane connection," she said.
Not an apology.
A statement of fact, delivered with the same tone she had used to tell me I was a permanent waiting room.
"I know," I said.
"Julian doesn't have the money anymore.
Most of it was reinvested through Vance Global.
The company has significant liabilities."
"That's Julian's problem," I said.
"And yours."
"Genevieve." For the first time, something cracked slightly in Eleanor's composure.
"I have grandchildren.
Julian's children with Victoria — they haven't been born yet, but they will be.
A federal prosecution affects everyone."
I looked at her steadily.
"You should have thought about the children before you sent that email to Phillip Crane."
Her jaw tightened.
"I was protecting my son."
"You were stealing from me," I said.
"While I was sitting in a clinic waiting to find out if I could carry a pregnancy to term.
While I was grieving two miscarriages.
You looked at my grief and saw an opportunity." I kept my voice even.
"Don't tell me about protecting children."
The restaurant was quiet around us.
A server passed with a tray and moved on quickly.
Forsythe cleared his throat.
"My client is prepared to offer full restitution of the transferred funds, plus interest, in exchange for—"
"That's not the offer I'm here to discuss," I said.
Forsythe stopped.
"The restitution happens regardless," Daniel said.
"That's not a negotiating point.
That's a legal outcome.
What Ms.
Sterling is here to discuss is Eleanor's cooperation with the financial crimes investigation.
Specifically — the full account of who knew, when they knew it, and what role Arthur Crane played before his retirement."
Eleanor's eyes moved to Forsythe.
He gave a small, almost invisible shake of his head.
She looked back at me.
"If I cooperate, what happens to Julian?"
"That's not my decision," I said.
"That belongs to the investigators."
"He's my son."
"He forged my name," I said.
"He took two point three million dollars from a trust my grandmother built over a lifetime.
He spent five years telling me my body was the reason we didn't have a family, while he was planning to leave me and take everything he could carry." I paused.
"And he called me from the maternity ward to brag."
Eleanor looked down at the table for the first time.
"I have a daughter," I said.
"She is eight days old.
And she will never know a version of her mother who accepted what your family did to her."
May you like
The table was silent.
Then Eleanor said, very quietly: "What do you need from me?"
