Chapter 9: The Last Thing He Tried
Daniel came to my house on a Thursday evening without calling.
I saw his car from the upstairs window before he rang the bell.
I came downstairs, opened the door, and stood in the frame without stepping back.
"You need to stop this," he said.
"Come in or don't," I said.
"But I'm not having this conversation on the doorstep."
He came in.
He didn't sit.
He stood in the middle of the living room with his hands in his pockets, looking at the room the way people look at things they used to own.
"Raymond is cooperating with the SEC," he said.
"I assume you know that."
"I do."
"He's going to say I directed everything.
That I was the architect." His jaw tightened.
"That's not entirely true."
"I know what's true, Daniel," I said.
"I've read every document."
"Then you know Raymond had his own motivations.
His own financial stake in the subsidiary." He looked at me.
"I'm not saying I'm innocent.
I'm saying the picture is more complicated than what you've given them."
"Then tell them that," I said.
"Cooperate.
Give them your version."
"My attorney says if I cooperate, I'm looking at a negotiated outcome.
Fines.
Restitution.
Possible suspension from serving as a corporate officer." He paused.
"If I don't cooperate and this goes to trial, I'm looking at something significantly worse."
"Then cooperate," I said again.
"I need something from you first."
I looked at him.
"I need you to tell them the trust transfer was coerced," he said.
"That you used the threat of the investigation to force me out of my own company."
The room was very quiet.
"That's not what happened," I said.
"Claire." His voice dropped.
"I know I destroyed this marriage.
I know what I did.
But I built that company from nothing.
If you take it completely, if you let them take my ability to ever work in this industry again—" He stopped.
"I have nothing left."
"You have Vanessa," I said.
Something crossed his face.
"Vanessa is gone.
She moved out last week."
I hadn't known that.
I absorbed it without showing anything.
"The sixty-one employees," I said.
"Their pension contributions.
Four hundred and thirty-eight thousand dollars.
Do you understand that some of those people are already retired?
That they're counting on that money now?"
"Restitution will cover—"
"It will cover the money," I said.
"It won't cover the fourteen months they spent not knowing if their retirement was safe.
It won't cover Carol Briggs losing her job for reporting it." I looked at him steadily.
"I'm not going to tell the SEC the transfer was coerced.
Because it wasn't."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"I could make things difficult for you," he said.
"Professionally.
The planted story didn't work, but there are other ways."
"Daniel." I kept my voice level.
"You tried the press.
You tried to use Vanessa's situation against Thomas Rourke.
You tried to intimidate Marcus Webb." I paused.
"What exactly do you have left?"
His hands came out of his pockets.
He looked at them.
Then he sat down.
Not in the chair he used to sit in.
In the one by the window that had always been mine.
"I don't know how it got here," he said.
It wasn't directed at me.
It was barely directed at anything.
"I do," I said.
"You decided that what you wanted mattered more than what you owed.
To me.
To the company.
To the people who worked for you." I sat down across from him.
"That's how it got here."
He was quiet for a long time.
"The restitution," he said finally.
"Will the board oversee it directly?"
"Yes."
"Will the employees know where it came from?"
"Yes."
He nodded slowly.
"Then I'll cooperate." He stood.
"Tell your attorney to call mine tomorrow."
He walked to the door.
Stopped with his hand on the frame.
"I did love you," he said.
"In the beginning.
I want you to know that."
I didn't answer.
He left.
I sat in the quiet living room for a while.
Then I got up, went to the kitchen, and called Grace.
"He's going to cooperate," I said.
"When did this happen?"
"About ten minutes ago."
A pause.
"Are you all right?"
I looked around the kitchen.
The coffee maker.
The notepad on the counter.
The pen I'd used to write Thomas Rourke's name.
"Yes," I said.
"I think I actually am."
"Good," Grace said.
"Because the SEC wants a meeting tomorrow at nine, and we have a lot of work left to do."
"I know," I said.
"I'll be there."
May you like
I hung up and stood in the kitchen for another moment.
Outside, Daniel's car was already gone.
