Chapter 7: The Morning Grant Stopped Pretending
Grace filed on a Wednesday.
By Thursday morning, Grant's attorney — not Pryce, a new one, a firm from Boston with a glass-tower address — had sent a response characterizing the claim as "a bad-faith attempt to relitigate a settled divorce by a party motivated by personal grievance." The letter was twelve pages.
It used the word *frivolous* four times.
Grace read it at my kitchen table and set it down with the expression of someone who has been handed exactly what they expected.
"He hired Calloway and Marsh," she said.
"That's a significant spend for a matter he's describing as frivolous."
"What does that tell you?"
"That he's frightened." She picked up her coffee.
"Frightened people spend money.
Let him."
Matthew had met with Grace the previous afternoon and provided a full copy of his firm's compliance review.
The review documented the Northgate transfer chain in detail, cross-referenced against Harrow Urban's public filings.
It also identified a second irregularity — a separate project from two years after my divorce in which a similar transfer structure had been used to reduce a minority investor's recorded interest before a profitable asset sale.
That investor was not me.
"There's a pattern," Grace said.
"Pryce built a mechanism and Grant used it more than once.
The second investor is a man named Daniel Osei — a contractor who put early capital into a mixed-use project in Hartford.
He took a reduced payout and signed off because he trusted the accounting."
"Does he know?"
"He does now.
Matthew's team contacted him yesterday." Grace looked at me.
"He wants to join the action."
The front door opened.
Theo came in from the school run, still in his coat, and stopped when he saw Grace's expression.
"What happened?" he asked.
"The case got larger," Grace said.
He sat down.
Grace walked him through the Hartford project, the second transfer structure, Daniel Osei.
When she finished, Theo was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Pryce has been running this for at least seven years."
"Possibly longer.
We're still reviewing."
"And Grant directed both instances."
"The communications between Grant and Pryce's firm during both divorce and project periods are what we need.
We've subpoenaed Pryce's firm records.
They have thirty days to respond."
"They'll fight the subpoena," Theo said.
"They'll try." Grace allowed herself a small, precise smile.
"But Matthew's firm has already voluntarily provided their compliance review to the court as supporting documentation.
It's harder to argue there's nothing to see when the bride's father has handed the judge a hundred and forty pages explaining exactly what there is to see."
My phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
Grant.
Again.
I set it face-down on the table.
"He's been calling every day," I said.
"I know.
His attorney has also called mine twice this morning." Grace straightened her portfolio.
"He wants to settle."
The word landed in the room.
"Already?" Theo said.
"The filing spooked him.
The second investor spooked him more.
And Matthew—" Grace paused, "—Matthew has made it clear to Grant's new attorney that his firm will not proceed with any joint venture involving Harrow Urban while this action is pending.
That is a very large project.
A very large amount of money.
Grant needs that deal."
I looked at the table.
"What kind of settlement?"
"His attorney suggested a private resolution.
Full repayment of the original interest return, plus a confidentiality agreement."
"No," I said.
Grace nodded, as though she had expected exactly that word.
"I want Pryce to face the bar," I said.
"I want the record to show what happened.
Not just to me — to Daniel Osei, to anyone else we haven't found yet."
"Then we don't settle." Grace looked at me steadily.
"But you should know what that means.
It becomes public.
It becomes a proceeding.
Grant will fight, and his attorneys will make it unpleasant."
"I know."
"They'll say you're motivated by the remarriage.
By jealousy.
By the invitation."
"Let them say it."
Theo reached across the table and covered my hand with his.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
Grace closed her portfolio and stood.
"Then we proceed," she said.
"I'll call you when the subpoena response comes in." She picked up her coat, then paused at the kitchen door.
"One more thing.
The text message you received the night of the wedding — *you should have stayed home tonight.* My investigator ran the number this morning."
May you like
She said a name.
It was Clifford Pryce's paralegal.
