Chapter 4: Eight O'Clock
Marcus arrived at seven fifty-eight.
He was carrying a leather portfolio I had seen a hundred times in conference rooms, but his jaw was set in a way I had never seen in any of those rooms.
He shook my hand at the door and then looked past me to where Sloan was sitting on the couch with Willa.
"She told you about the clause," he said.
It wasn't a question.
"She told me about the clause." I closed the door.
"Now you're going to tell me everything else."
He sat down across from Sloan and opened the portfolio on the coffee table.
Three printed pages, tabbed with yellow markers.
"The clause was inserted after the final review," Marcus said.
"I know that because I have the version history.
The clean draft I approved on a Thursday.
The filed version that went to Sloan's attorney on a Friday had four additional lines buried in section eleven, subsection C.
Medical continuation benefits.
The language was technically legal.
It was also specifically designed to be invisible unless you were looking for it."
"Who had access to the file on Friday?" I asked.
Marcus looked at me.
"One person made edits to the document between Thursday close of business and Friday morning submission."
He turned one of the pages around and slid it across the table.
The edit log showed a single username.
A single timestamp.
11:47 p.m.
on a Thursday night.
The username was D-COLE.
Sloan made a small sound.
Not quite a word.
"Dominic," I said.
Marcus nodded.
"Your brother."
I had made Dominic a senior associate at my firm fourteen months ago.
I had given him access to my legal document system as a professional courtesy, because he had asked and because I had believed, without any real evidence, that he had finally grown into someone I could trust.
He had been in that system for over a year.
He had access to every contract, every settlement, every agreement that carried my name.
"Why?" I asked.
The word came out stripped of everything except the question itself.
Marcus hesitated.
"That's the part Sloan needs to tell you."
I turned to her.
She had Willa against her shoulder.
Her free hand was pressed flat against her own knee, fingers spread, like she was bracing for something.
"When I was seven months pregnant," she said, "Dominic came to see me.
He told me he wanted to help.
He said you were never going to come back, and that I should let him negotiate a better settlement on my behalf.
He said he knew your finances better than any outside attorney."
"You didn't tell me."
"I told him to leave." She looked down at Willa.
"Two weeks later, the settlement was filed.
My attorney said everything looked standard.
I signed it because I was exhausted and thirty-four weeks pregnant and I just wanted it to be over."
"He sabotaged the document," I said.
"He did more than that." Sloan reached into the pocket of her cardigan and set a folded piece of paper on the table beside Marcus's pages.
"He also sent me this.
Three weeks ago."
I picked it up and unfolded it.
It was a letter.
Handwritten.
Dominic's handwriting, which I had known since we were children.
*If you tell Vincent about the clause, I will contest Willa's paternity.
I have the resources to drag it through court for two years.
By the time it's resolved, she'll be walking and talking and you'll have spent everything you have left on legal fees.
Stay quiet.
Take what you have.
Leave.*
My hand was steady.
I don't know how.
"He threatened you," I said.
"Yes."
"While you were recovering from giving birth.
While Willa was in the hospital."
"Yes."
I set the letter down on the table and looked at Marcus.
"Tell me what we have."
Marcus tapped the edit log.
"Document tampering.
Potentially fraud, depending on how the DA wants to frame it.
The letter is a written threat.
Combined with the insurance clause and the financial impact on Sloan, we have enough to take to the firm's ethics board and to law enforcement simultaneously."
"Do it," I said.
Marcus didn't move immediately.
"Vincent.
He's your brother."
"Do it," I said again.
Willa stirred against Sloan's shoulder.
One tiny fist opened and closed against the fabric of Sloan's cardigan.
Marcus closed the portfolio and stood.
"I'll make the calls tonight."
After he left, the penthouse was very quiet.
Sloan didn't say anything.
Neither did I for a long moment.
May you like
Then my phone rang.
The screen showed one word: DOMINIC.
