Chapter 10: Dominic
She put him on speaker.
Weston looked up.
Franklin set down his pen.
"Mr.
Renaud," Marguerite said.
"You sent the letter."
"I retained the attorney who sent it, yes.
I wanted Weston to know the truth before the ceremony.
I should have acted sooner.
I apologize for the timing."
"Why didn't you act sooner?"
A pause.
"Because I spent eight months trying to believe it wasn't my problem anymore.
Priscilla and I were separated.
The divorce was in process.
I told myself what happened after was not my concern." Another pause.
"And then I found out about the competency provision."
"How?"
"She told me." His voice was even, but something underneath it was not.
"Three months ago.
She called me — we still spoke occasionally, about the divorce proceedings — and she told me that she had found a situation that was going to solve both our problems.
That there was a trust worth $120 million and an elderly woman with no one looking out for her interests, and that within a year of the marriage she expected to have full administrative control." He stopped.
"She said it the way someone says they've found a good investment.
Like it was simply a matter of execution."
Weston stood up and walked to the window.
"You didn't go to the police," Marguerite said.
"What she described wasn't a crime yet.
It was a plan.
And I had no proof beyond a phone call." He paused.
"But I kept records.
I recorded that conversation, Mrs.
Ashcroft.
And several that followed, in which she described her progress in more detail."
Franklin leaned forward.
"Mr.
Renaud," Marguerite said carefully, "are you willing to provide those recordings to my attorney?"
"That is why I'm calling." A brief silence.
"I want nothing from you.
I want to be clear about that.
I don't want money.
I don't want to be involved in whatever legal proceedings follow.
I want my divorce finalized, I want my name removed from her orbit, and I want to give you what you need to end this." His voice tightened slightly.
"She told me your husband built that trust to protect you.
She thought that was funny.
She used that exact word.
*Funny.*"
Marguerite looked at her husband's handwriting on the amendment at the top of the stack.
"Send everything to Franklin Hess," she said.
"I'll have him contact you within the hour."
"Thank you, Mrs.
Ashcroft."
"No," she said.
"Thank you."
She ended the call.
The room held its silence for a moment.
"She recorded herself," Weston said from the window.
He hadn't turned around.
"She told him her plan in detail and she didn't think he would keep it."
"She thought he was manageable," Franklin said.
"She thought everyone was manageable."
Weston turned.
His face had moved past the stunned grief of Saturday and arrived somewhere quieter and more resolved.
"What do we do now?"
"Now," Franklin said, picking up his pen, "we build a case that makes her petition not just fail but cost her." He looked at Marguerite.
"The recordings she made of herself, combined with yours, combined with the security logs and Vivienne's testimony — we don't just defeat the petition.
We file a counter-complaint.
Fraudulent misrepresentation in a marriage proceeding.
Unauthorized access to private legal documents.
Conspiracy to commit financial elder fraud."
"Elder fraud," Marguerite said.
"That is what it is.
The law is specific and the penalties are significant." Franklin looked at her steadily.
"She came after you because she thought you were alone and aging and easy.
She was wrong on all three counts.
Now we show her exactly how wrong."
Weston looked at his mother.
She looked back at him.
May you like
"All right," she said.
"Let's show her."
