Chapter 6: The Firm
The call from the managing partner came at seven fifteen the next morning.
I was in the kitchen, holding Willa against my shoulder the way Sloan had shown me — one hand supporting her head, the other flat against her back — while Sloan slept in the bedroom for the first uninterrupted stretch she'd had in weeks.
The bottle was warming on the counter.
I had figured that part out on my own.
"Vincent." Gerald Marsh's voice was careful in the way it only got when something had already gone wrong and he was deciding how much of it was his problem.
"I've been briefed by Marcus.
I need you to come in."
"I'll be there at nine," I said.
"The board convenes at eight."
Willa made a sound against my neck.
Small and impatient.
"Then the board can start without me," I said.
"I'll be there at nine."
A pause.
Gerald was not accustomed to being told to wait.
"This involves your brother, Vincent.
And your name is on the settlement document."
"My name is on the document because it's my divorce," I said.
"My brother's username is on the edit log because he tampered with it.
Those are two different things, and I expect the board to understand the difference before I walk in."
I ended the call and finished warming the bottle.
Sloan appeared in the kitchen doorway at eight thirty, hair still pressed flat on one side, wearing one of my old university sweatshirts.
She stopped when she saw me feeding Willa at the kitchen table.
"You figured out the bottle," she said.
"YouTube," I said.
She almost smiled.
She crossed to the coffee maker and stood with her back to me while it ran.
"Gerald called," I told her.
"The board is meeting this morning."
She didn't turn around.
"What does that mean for Dominic?"
"Suspension pending investigation, at minimum.
If the ethics finding goes the way Marcus expects, disbarment referral.
The DA is a separate track."
She poured her coffee.
Turned around.
Leaned against the counter.
"He'll blame you," she said.
"Publicly.
He'll say you fabricated the edit log.
That Marcus manipulated the timeline.
He'll make it about family loyalty and your ego and the divorce."
"I know."
"People will believe him.
Some of them.
He's charming and you're—" She stopped.
"I'm what?"
She looked at me over the rim of her cup.
"You're the one who left.
That's the story people already have.
He'll use it."
She wasn't wrong.
Dominic had always been better at being liked.
I had always been better at being right, which was a significantly less useful skill in a public narrative.
"Let him try," I said.
Willa had finished the bottle.
I held her upright the way Sloan had shown me, palm against her small back, and waited.
Sloan watched from across the kitchen.
"You're doing it right," she said quietly.
"I had a good teacher."
She looked away.
Set her cup down.
Picked it back up.
"The hospital called yesterday," she said.
"Before you came home.
Willa's follow-up monitoring appointment is Friday.
They want to run the extended EEG."
My hand stilled on Willa's back.
"What are they looking for?"
"They want to rule out a structural cause for the episodes." She kept her voice even.
"It's probably nothing.
They said most cases like hers resolve on their own by three months."
"Probably," I said.
"Yes." She met my eyes.
"Probably."
Willa produced a small, dignified sound against my shoulder.
I kept my hand moving in slow circles on her back.
"I'll be there Friday," I said.
Sloan set her cup in the sink.
"You have the board meeting this morning."
"I'll be at the board meeting this morning and at NYU Langone on Friday." I looked at her.
"Both things can be true."
She didn't answer immediately.
She looked at Willa, then at me, then at some point between us that I couldn't identify.
"Okay," she said finally.
Just that.
Okay.
I left for the firm at eight fifty.
In the elevator going down, I got a text from an unknown number.
*You think you've won something.
You haven't.
Call me before this goes further or I promise you it gets worse for everyone.*
The number wasn't saved.
But I knew the cadence of it.
May you like
The rhythm of the threat dressed up as a warning.
I forwarded it to Marcus without responding and walked out into the morning.
