Chapter 7: What He Actually Had
Patricia's formal letter reached Richard on a Friday.
By Tuesday of the following week, he had retained a solicitor of his own — a firm in the city, not local.
Patricia recognized the name.
"They're not cheap," she said.
"Which means he's serious, or he wants you to think he is."
"Which do you think?"
"I think a man who was bluffing wouldn't spend that kind of money on letterhead." She was quiet for a moment.
"His solicitor has requested a meeting.
All parties.
They want to present what they're calling additional material relevant to the original settlement."
My chest tightened.
"The account."
"Presumably.
I want you to come in before the meeting so we can go through everything together.
I don't want any surprises in that room."
I went to Patricia's office on a Thursday morning.
She had printed everything I'd sent her and laid it out across the conference table in chronological order.
My mother's diagnosis.
The account transfer documents.
The care facility invoices.
The final estate accounting.
A letter from the estate solicitor at the time confirming the account's purpose and disposition.
"This is thorough," Patricia said.
"My mother was thorough.
She kept everything."
"Good.
Because what Richard's team has sent over—" She slid a folder across the table.
"—is less than I expected."
I opened it.
There were three documents.
A bank statement showing the account balance at the time of the divorce settlement.
A letter from Richard — the same letter he had written to Daniel, slightly reformatted.
And a one-page summary prepared by his solicitor asserting that the account had not been properly disclosed and that its value should have been factored into the settlement.
That was it.
"This is what he's been holding for twenty years?" I said.
"This is what he has.
The bank statement shows the balance.
It does not show what the money was used for.
That's the gap he's trying to exploit." Patricia tapped the estate accounting.
"This closes the gap.
Completely."
"So why is he still pushing?"
"Because you didn't know how strong your position was until now.
And he was counting on that." She closed the folder.
"The meeting is next Wednesday.
I'd like you there.
You don't need to say much.
But I want him to see that you came prepared."
I said I'd be there.
I called Daniel that evening and told him about the meeting.
He was quiet for a moment.
"Do you want me to come?"
"You don't have to."
"I know I don't have to." A pause.
"Do you want me there?"
I thought about it.
"Yes.
But only if Sophie's all right on her own for a few hours."
"She'll be fine.
She's already told me I should go."
Wednesday morning, Daniel met me outside Patricia's building.
He was wearing a jacket and tie — the same one he'd worn to his graduation.
He looked nervous and was trying not to show it.
"You look like your father," I said.
"The good version.
Before everything."
He almost smiled.
"That's a strange thing to say."
"It's true."
We went inside.
Richard arrived eight minutes late with his solicitor, a tall man named Graves who carried himself with the particular confidence of someone paid to seem unworried.
Richard looked at Daniel and something crossed his face — surprise, recalculation, a flicker of something that might have been shame.
He covered it quickly.
"Daniel," he said.
"I didn't know you'd be here."
"I know," Daniel said.
The meeting began.
Graves presented Richard's position.
The account.
The non-disclosure.
The settlement figure they were seeking.
Patricia let him finish.
Then she laid out the estate documents one by one, walking Graves through each page with the patience of someone who had done this many times and was not in a hurry.
Graves asked two questions.
Patricia answered both.
Then the room was quiet.
Richard leaned toward Graves and said something low.
Graves nodded once, slowly.
"My client would like a short recess," Graves said.
"Of course," Patricia said.
Richard and Graves stepped out.
Daniel looked at me.
"Is it over?"
"Not yet," Patricia said.
"But close."
They came back in eleven minutes.
Graves sat down.
Richard sat beside him and did not look at Daniel or at me.
"My client is prepared to withdraw the property claim," Graves said, "in exchange for a signed acknowledgment that the matter has been reviewed and resolved."
"No acknowledgment," Patricia said.
"Withdrawal, full and unconditional, with a written confirmation that no further claims will be brought regarding the original settlement or the property."
Graves looked at Richard.
Richard's jaw moved once.
"Agreed," Graves said.
I looked at Richard.
He was staring at the table.
"Richard," I said.
He looked up.
"I want to hear you say it."
Graves started to speak.
Patricia put one hand up, very slightly, and he stopped.
Richard looked at me for a long moment.
"The claim is withdrawn," he said.
His voice was flat.
"All of it."
Daniel let out a slow breath beside me.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
But I heard it, and I knew what it cost him to sit in that room and watch the man he had wanted to believe in finally show exactly who he was.
Outside on the pavement afterward, Daniel stood with his hands in his pockets.
"He's not going to change," he said.
"No."
"I knew that.
I just—" He stopped.
"Wanted it to be different."
"Yeah."
I put my hand on his arm.
He didn't pull away.
"You're going to be a good father," I said.
"Because you know what it feels like when someone lets you down.
You won't do that to your child."
He nodded.
His eyes were wet.
He looked away down the street.
May you like
"Come on," I said.
"Let's go tell Sophie it's done."
