Chapter 8: Terms
I told her I would call her back.
Then I called Claire and repeated the conversation word for word.
"She asked what you want," Claire said slowly.
"That's a significant shift."
"I know."
"It means they've spoken to Harte and Harte has told them the full picture.
They're looking for a way to contain this."
"What are our options?"
Claire was quiet for a moment, thinking rather than hesitating.
"You could pursue the criminal complaint on the extortion recording.
That goes to the CPS and it moves outside your control — it becomes a matter for the police and the courts.
Diane could face charges.
So could the woman with the notepad, who we now believe is a former paralegal Diane found through a contact."
"And the civil side?"
"Eric settles.
Full and immediate.
No contest on the divorce, no challenge to the prenup, return of the armchair or full replacement value, and repayment of the forty-two thousand pounds plus any legal costs."
"And if he refuses?"
"Then we file everything — the financial misconduct, the theft, the extortion recording — and we let the court see all of it.
His career is in financial services.
A finding of financial misconduct during marriage, combined with a criminal complaint against his mother, would be professionally significant."
I looked out of the office window.
The street below was ordinary and unhurried.
People walking.
A bus.
A woman pushing a pram.
"Draw up the settlement terms," I said.
"Everything you just described.
Send it to Harte today."
"And the criminal complaint?"
I thought about Diane at the kitchen table.
The notepad.
The rehearsed voice of the woman beside her.
The particular coldness of someone who believed she could threaten her way out of a consequence.
"Hold it," I said.
"For now.
If they sign, I'll consider whether to proceed separately.
If they don't sign, file everything the same day."
"Understood."
The terms went to Phillip Harte at four o'clock that afternoon.
He requested forty-eight hours to advise his client.
Claire gave him twenty-four.
At eleven the following morning, Harte called Claire.
Eric would sign.
All of it.
No contest on the divorce.
No challenge to the prenup.
Return of the armchair — which, it turned out, had never left Richard's garage — and repayment of the forty-two thousand pounds within thirty days.
Full legal costs covered.
Claire called me immediately.
"He signed the agreement in principle," she said.
"Formal documents by end of week."
I was standing in the hotel room when she told me.
I had been there for eleven days by then.
My flight to England was booked for the following Tuesday.
"Claire," I said.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet.
Thank me when the money clears."
"The money will clear."
"It will," she agreed.
"He knows what happens if it doesn't."
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
Outside, it was raining lightly.
The kind of rain that doesn't commit to anything — just a steady grey presence against the window.
I thought about the armchair.
Still in Richard's garage.
May you like
Still intact.
I called the removal company I had used when I first moved into the house and booked them for Saturday morning.
