Chapter 12: The Things He Finally Said
Everett landed at Hartsfield-Jackson on a Thursday.
I knew because Eleanor called me the moment his attorney contacted her office to request an urgent meeting.
He had flown back from London without warning, without announcement, without the settlement offer he had already made and I had already refused.
He wanted to talk.
Eleanor advised against a direct meeting.
Daniel Frey advised against it more strongly.
I listened to both of them, thought about it overnight, and then told Eleanor to set it up.
"In your office," I said.
"With you present.
And I want it recorded."
"Stella—"
"If he has things to say, he can say them on the record."
She set it up for Friday afternoon.
He looked older.
That was the first thing I noticed when he walked into Eleanor's conference room.
Only four days since the airport, but something had gone out of him — the ease, the practiced confidence, the apologetic smile that had talked me out of a hundred arguments.
He sat down across from me and looked at his hands.
His attorney, a man named Gareth Webb, placed a folder on the table.
"My client would like to make a statement," Gareth said.
"Go ahead," Eleanor said.
Everett looked up at me.
"I'm sorry, Stella," he said.
I didn't answer.
"I know that doesn't fix anything," he said.
"I know it's not enough.
But I need you to hear it." He pressed his hands flat on the table.
"I've been lying to you for four years.
To you and to Diane both.
I told myself it was complicated.
That I was protecting everyone.
But I was protecting myself." He paused.
"The money — the transfers — I told myself it was for Isla.
That I was just making sure she was provided for.
But I used your money to do it.
Money we built together.
And I had no right."
"You forged my signature," I said.
He flinched.
"Yes," he said.
"You put my name on a company I didn't know existed and used it to move money offshore."
"Yes."
"And when I found out, you sent Royce Callahan to my door to intimidate me into returning the evidence."
Gareth Webb shifted in his chair.
"My client did not instruct—"
"He did," Everett said quietly.
Gareth went still.
"He did.
I called Royce and I asked him to go to the house and get the documents back." He looked at me.
"I was panicking.
I knew what it looked like.
I knew what it was." He exhaled slowly.
"I'm not going to fight the criminal referral.
I've spoken to Gareth and I'm going to cooperate fully with the financial crimes investigation."
Eleanor's pen stopped moving.
"You're going to cooperate," she said carefully.
"Yes." He looked at me again.
"Stella.
The house is yours.
It was always yours.
I'll sign whatever I need to sign to remove my name from the deed today, this afternoon, if you want.
The joint accounts — whatever's left after the forensic audit, it's yours.
I'm not contesting anything." He paused.
"I'm asking you — not as a legal matter — I'm asking you personally to consider the trust for Isla.
She's four years old.
She didn't choose any of this."
"I know she didn't," I said.
He looked at me.
"I'm not going after the trust," I said.
"I told Daniel Frey that on day one.
Whatever you set aside for her stays for her." I kept my voice level.
"But I want you to understand something, Everett.
I'm not agreeing to a confidentiality agreement.
What you did is going on the record.
Not to punish you.
Because it happened, and things that happen should be on the record."
He nodded slowly.
"I know," he said.
"And Royce Callahan threatened me in my own home."
"I know." He looked down.
"I'll give Daniel Frey a full account of every conversation I had with Royce.
Everything."
The room was quiet for a moment.
May you like
Then Eleanor set her pen down and looked at Gareth Webb.
"Let's talk about the deed transfer," she said.
