Chapter 5: The Call He Shouldn't Have Made
I let it ring.
Cordelia watched the screen without expression.
The call went to voicemail.
Ten seconds later, it rang again.
"He knows I'm here," she said.
"How?"
"I told him I was coming." She said it without apology.
"I told him I needed to speak with you about a personal matter and that it had nothing to do with the settlement.
I believed, at the time, that he would let it go."
The phone rang a third time.
I picked it up and answered.
"Charles."
"Whatever my mother has told you," he said, "I need you to understand that she is operating on incomplete information."
His voice was controlled.
It was always controlled.
I had once found that quality reassuring.
"She showed me your email," I said.
"The one to your attorney.
Two weeks before the dinner."
A silence.
Brief, but not brief enough.
"That email was taken out of context."
"*Do not include the valuation in the disclosure package,*" I said.
"Which part of that requires context?"
"Hannah." His tone shifted — lower, more careful.
"You signed the agreement.
You had legal representation.
Whatever you think you've found, the settlement was executed properly."
"My attorney disagrees."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I want to know about the second document."
The silence that followed was the most informative thing Charles Stanhope had said to me in years.
It lasted four full seconds.
I counted them.
"There is no second document," he said.
"Then you won't mind if my attorney requests a full disclosure of all materials held by your legal team at the time of the settlement."
"You are making a serious mistake."
"I've made one serious mistake in the last twelve years," I said.
"I signed those papers before I knew what I was worth.
I won't be making it again."
"If you pursue this," Charles said, and his voice had dropped to something that was almost quiet, "I will make it very difficult for you.
I have resources you don't.
I have attorneys you don't.
And I have a great deal of patience."
Cordelia was watching me.
Her hands were folded in her lap.
Her face had gone very still.
"Charles," I said.
"Your mother is sitting across from me right now.
She can hear everything you're saying.
Would you like to continue?"
The line went silent.
Then: "Put her on."
"No," I said.
"But I'll tell her you called." I ended the call and set the phone down.
Cordelia let out a long, slow breath.
"He threatened you," she said.
"He tried to."
"He has done this before." She said it quietly, almost to herself.
"With suppliers.
With board members who asked the wrong questions.
He is very good at making people feel that fighting him is more expensive than surrendering."
"I know," I said.
"I watched him do it for twelve years." I looked at her.
"Show me the second document."
She reached into the portfolio and placed a single folded page on the table.
I opened it.
It was a paternity agreement.
Dated eleven months ago.
Signed by Charles, by Phoebe Bennett, and by a third party I didn't recognize — a man named Robert Ashworth.
I read it again to make sure I understood what I was reading.
"Who is Robert Ashworth?" I asked.
Cordelia's expression didn't change.
But something behind her eyes did.
May you like
"He is Phoebe's previous employer," she said.
"And the biological father of at least one of the twins."
