Chapter 8: What Cassandra Said
We met at Graham's office the following morning.
Cassandra arrived seven minutes late.
She was dressed carefully — understated, nothing flashy.
She had clearly thought about how she wanted to appear.
Michael was not with her.
That told me something.
She sat across from me with Graham beside me at the table.
She looked at Graham once, then focused on me.
"Robert." Her voice was composed.
Warm, even.
"I want to start by saying how deeply sorry I am for what happened.
What I did was wrong.
I know that."
I didn't respond.
"I've been struggling.
Michael may have mentioned that I've been working with a therapist.
I have episodes where my emotions — they overwhelm my judgment.
I'm not using that as an excuse.
I'm giving you context."
"You called the venue," I said.
"You told them I had agreed to delete the footage."
A small pause.
"I panicked.
I was afraid of how it would look out of context."
"Out of context."
"Robert, that corridor — what you see on that footage — it doesn't show everything that led up to it.
Your wife said something to me.
Before any of that happened, she said something that—"
"Ellen," I said.
"Her name is Ellen."
Cassandra stopped.
"You will refer to my wife by her name."
A beat.
Something shifted behind her eyes.
Just for a moment.
Then the composure came back.
"Ellen said something to me that was very hurtful.
About my family.
About where I come from.
I reacted badly.
I'm not proud of it.
But it wasn't unprovoked."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Patricia Holt was in that corridor," I said.
Cassandra's expression didn't move.
But her hands, folded on the table, pressed together slightly harder.
"She heard the entire conversation from the beginning.
She has provided a written statement." I let that sit for a moment.
"Ellen said nothing to you.
You came into that corridor already angry.
Patricia Holt's statement describes exactly what you said, word for word, before you raised your hand."
"That woman wasn't close enough to—"
"She was behind the partition.
She heard everything." I kept my voice level.
"And Daniel Marsh was at the end of the hall.
He heard Michael say 'she'll be fine' as you both walked away."
Cassandra's jaw tightened.
"So the story you came here to tell me," I said, "is not going to work."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she leaned forward slightly.
"Robert.
I understand you're angry.
But think about what you're doing.
You're dismantling your son's life.
His career.
His home.
His future.
Over one terrible moment.
Is that really what you want?"
"I'm not dismantling Michael's life," I said.
"I'm removing my support from it.
There's a difference."
"He'll lose everything."
"He'll lose what I was providing.
What he earns himself, he keeps."
"That's not fair—"
"Cassandra." I placed both hands flat on the table.
"You sl@pped my wife.
You had my son grab her arm and push her into a wall.
You left her on the floor.
And then you called the venue and used my name to try to destroy the evidence." I looked at her directly.
"Tell me which part of that I'm supposed to overlook."
The warmth was gone now.
She looked at me with something harder underneath.
"If you pursue this," she said quietly, "I will make sure Ellen understands exactly what kind of man you are.
I have things I could say.
About your business.
About decisions you've made.
Michael has told me things."
Graham's pen stopped moving.
I looked at Cassandra for a long moment.
"That," I said, "is the first honest thing you've said since you walked in."
I stood up.
"Graham will be in touch."
I walked to the door.
Behind me, I heard Cassandra's chair scrape back.
"You're making a mistake," she said.
"You don't know what Ellen has kept from you.
You don't know half of what she—"
I turned around.
"Whatever you say next," I said, "say it carefully.
Because Graham is writing everything down."
She looked at Graham.
At his notepad.
At the pen still in his hand.
May you like
She said nothing.
I left.
