Chapter 09 - Michael Had Wanted the Ballroom to Explode

Michael did not deny sending the email.

He denied almost everything else.

We met him that afternoon in the office of Harrison Custom Homes’ outside counsel.

Not his office.

That had been my condition.

Michael sat across from me wearing the same navy suit from the night before.

He had changed the shirt.

I had not changed my opinion.

“You used Mom’s email.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Ellie would trust it.”

My stomach turned.

“She is thirteen.”

“I know.”

“You used a dead woman’s account to manipulate a child.”

His face tightened.

“When you say it like that—”

“How else should I say it?”

He looked down.

Rebecca sat beside me.

Peter stood by the window.

Daniel had been told not to attend.

For once, I did not want his reaction contaminating mine.

Michael folded his hands.

“I knew Daniel planned to announce his separation last night.”

“With a forged signature.”

“I did not know he forged it until Lauren produced the copy.”

“You knew he wanted me removed from the company before the sale.”

“Yes.”

“You prepared legal work for him.”

“Draft work.”

“Stop hiding inside nouns.”

He flinched.

Good.

“I drafted the divorce petition because he said you had agreed.”

“And you never called me.”

“No.”

“You knew Mom left documents in the recipe box.”

“Yes.”

“You knew Lauren’s mother had evidence against Frank.”

“Yes.”

“You were stealing from the company.”

His face changed.

“Yes.”

“Yet you decided the right thing to do was send my daughter a mysterious email and let the ballroom explode.”

Michael rubbed both hands over his face.

“I panicked.”

“About what?”

“The sale.”

“Why?”

“Because due diligence would have exposed HCH Materials.”

Peter answered.

“And your payments.”

“Yes.”

“So you wanted the sale stopped.”

“Yes.”

“By exposing Daniel.”

“Yes.”

I sat back.

There it was.

My cousin had helped me because helping me saved himself.

Two things could be true.

Again.

“Why bring the recipe box after Ellie showed the video?”

Michael’s eyes filled.

“Because once I saw her on that stage, I realized what I’d done.”

I did not rescue him from that feeling.

He continued.

“I told myself I was giving her information. I told myself Margaret would have wanted the truth out.”

“But?”

“I used her.”

“Yes.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

The phrase had lost almost all meaning over twenty-four hours.

“What happened to the money you took?”

“Sports betting.”

I stared.

He gave a bitter laugh.

“The family disease apparently crossed by marriage.”

“Six hundred and forty thousand dollars.”

“I know.”

“No, Michael. You know the number.”

He looked up.

“Do you know how many employees skipped raises in those years?”

His face collapsed.

I thought of Lisa in procurement who postponed dental work.

Carlos on the framing crew who worked weekends after his wife lost her job.

I had not been involved in daily management then.

Still, the money had come from a company built partly with my bracelet, my mother’s eight thousand dollars, and years of unpaid work.

“I will repay it.”

“With what?”

“My share of Aunt Margaret’s estate.”

My breath caught.

“What share?”

Michael went still.

Rebecca looked at him.

“Claire.”

I turned toward her.

“You don’t know.”

I hated those words now.

“Know what?”

Michael’s voice was barely audible.

“Margaret changed her will six weeks before she died.”

I stared.

“She left you money?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred thousand.”

My mother had left my cousin two hundred thousand dollars.

I had received her house contents, jewelry, and forty thousand in savings.

I did not care about the difference.

I cared that nobody told me.

“You handled the estate.”

“Yes.”

“Did you disclose the bequest?”

“It was through a separate trust.”

“Why?”

“Because she wanted me to use it for Ellie’s education if anything happened to you.”

My anger shifted.

“Then it wasn’t yours.”

“No.”

“But you gambled it.”

Michael began to cry.

Quietly.

“I borrowed against it.”

“How much?”

“All of it.”

Rebecca whispered a curse.

I felt physically ill.

“My daughter’s education trust.”

“I was going to replace it.”

“Stop saying that.”

My voice rose for the first time.

He stopped.

Outside the glass wall, lawyers pretended not to look.

I lowered my voice.

“You do not get credit for the future version of yourself you planned to become before you got caught.”

Michael covered his face.

For a moment I saw the boy who came to our house after his parents divorced.

The teenager my mother fed every Wednesday.

The cousin who carried her coffin.

Then I saw the man who used her trust to bet.

Both were true.

That was becoming the hardest lesson of my life.

Peter broke the silence.

“There is still two hundred and sixty thousand unaccounted for in the later discrepancy.”

Michael looked up.

“It wasn’t me.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know.”

I believed him.

I wished I didn’t.

Rebecca’s phone buzzed.

She read a message.

“Daniel is downstairs.”

“I told him not to come.”

“He says it concerns Ellie.”

I stood immediately.

Michael closed his eyes.

There was the button again.

My child.

This time, Daniel had better deserve to press it.

I met him in the lobby.

He looked terrible.

No tuxedo.

No polished smile.

Just a man who had not slept.

He held a folder.

“What happened to Ellie?”

“Nothing.”

Anger flooded me.

“Then why did you say—”

“Because this is about her.”

I stared.

He opened the folder.

Private-school invoices.

Investment statements.

A custodial account in Ellie’s name.

Balance: $278,411.

I frowned.

“What is this?”

“I created it when she was born.”

I knew about her college account.

This was different.

“Where did the money come from?”

Daniel looked toward Peter.

Peter had followed us downstairs.

His face changed when he saw the statements.

“Oh.”

I turned.

“What?”

Daniel spoke.

“The missing two hundred and sixty thousand.”

The lobby went silent.

“You stole company money and put it in Ellie’s account.”

“No.”

“Then explain.”

He swallowed.

“My father did.”

I stared.

“Frank?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Daniel looked at our daughter’s name on the statement.

“Because Ellie wasn’t supposed to be my only child.”

The words made no sense.

Then they did.

I felt the blood leave my face.

Seventeen years earlier, before Ellie, I had miscarried at eleven weeks.

A baby Daniel and I had barely had time to imagine.

I looked at him.

“What does that have to do with Frank?”

Daniel’s voice cracked.

“Nothing with the miscarriage.”

He shook his head.

“I said it wrong.”

“Then say it correctly.”

He took a breath.

“My father created the account for a child he believed I had before I married you.”

I stared at him.

Rebecca whispered, “Daniel.”

He did not look at her.

I could not feel my hands.

“You have another child.”

Daniel’s eyes filled.

“I don’t know.”

And just like that, the affair was no longer the oldest secret in my marriage.