Chapter 6: The First Confrontation
Dante called at noon.
Amara was with Philip Osei in his office on Michigan Avenue when the phone buzzed on the table between them.
Philip looked at the screen, then at her.
"Your choice," he said.
She picked it up.
Put it on speaker.
"Dante."
"Where are you." Not a question.
"With my lawyer."
A short silence.
"You filed a protective order."
"I did."
"Amara." His voice shifted.
Not softer.
More controlled.
The voice he used when he was deciding how much force a situation required.
"You don't need a protective order.
I sent those men to make sure you were safe.
You left in the middle of the night.
You're pregnant."
"I left because you told me to."
"I told you to accept a situation.
I didn't tell you to disappear."
Philip made a small gesture.
*Stay calm.
Keep him talking.*
"Dante, I'm not disappearing.
I'm divorcing you.
There's a difference."
The silence this time was longer.
"You're making a mistake," he said.
"I've made one mistake in this marriage.
I won't make another."
"The documents you filed — the financial disclosures — where did you get those numbers?"
"From the accounts."
"Those accounts don't exist on paper."
"They do now."
She heard his breathing change.
Just slightly.
The way it did when something had surprised him and he didn't want it to show.
"Who helped you?" he asked.
"My lawyer."
"Before your lawyer."
Philip shook his head once.
*Don't answer.*
"Dante, this conversation is being recorded with your knowledge.
I'd like you to understand that."
Another silence.
"You think a recording protects you," he said.
"You think a lawyer protects you.
You think a piece of paper protects you."
"I think the law protects me," Amara said.
"And I think you're currently in a position where drawing attention to yourself would be very unwise."
The line went quiet.
When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to something almost gentle.
"Our daughter needs her father."
Amara's jaw tightened.
Philip reached across the table and put one hand briefly over hers.
A steadying gesture.
Nothing more.
"Our daughter needs a mother who didn't teach her that love means accepting humiliation," Amara said.
"She'll have her father in whatever way the court determines is appropriate."
"The court." He said it the way someone says a word in a language they find beneath them.
"Yes, Dante.
The court."
"I built everything in this city.
You think a court—"
"I think you should speak to your own lawyer," Amara said.
"Goodbye."
She ended the call.
Philip sat back in his chair.
"He's going to move assets," he said.
"Whatever he thinks you haven't found yet."
"Let him," Amara said.
"Grace already found them."
Philip nodded slowly.
"There's one more thing I need to tell you." He folded his hands on the desk.
"The protective order was granted this morning.
But Dante's attorney — a man named Victor Cass — has already filed a counter-motion.
He's claiming the financial disclosures were obtained through illegal access to private accounts."
Amara looked at him.
"Were they?"
"No.
Every account Grace identified was legally accessible to you as a spouse under Illinois marital property law." He paused.
"But Victor Cass is very good at making legal things look illegal.
And he's going to argue that you were assisted by a third party with a separate agenda."
"Meaning the federal investigation."
"Meaning the federal investigation."
Amara was quiet for a moment.
"Can he make that argument stick?"
Philip looked at her steadily.
"Not if Grace testifies.
Not if the paper trail is clean." He paused.
"Is the paper trail clean?"
"Yes," Amara said.
"Then we're fine."
Her phone buzzed on the table.
A text.
Unknown number.
Different from Hale's.
May you like
*He knows about Grace.
Get her somewhere safe.*
