I watched it.
Then answered.
"Claire."
His voice sounded different.
No confidence.
No amusement.
Just pressure.
"We need to talk."
"Talk."
"Not over the phone."
"Then we don't need to talk."
"Your father locked me out of the company."
"Pending an investigation."
"This is retaliation."
"For what?"
"You know what."
"The divorce?"
"Yes."
I looked at the bassinets.
"You served me divorce papers yesterday."
"I know."
"Why would I retaliate against something I accepted?"
Silence.
Then:
"Vanessa shouldn't have come."
"No."
"I handled that badly."
"Yes."
"Can we stop doing this?"
I almost admired him.
"Doing what?"
"Turning everything into war."
"You arrived with a settlement claiming property that isn't yours."
"My lawyer made mistakes."
"You tried to freeze an account while I was undergoing emergency surgery."
Another silence.
"Who told you that?"
There it was.
Not denial.
Concern about the source.
"Goodbye, Ethan."
"Claire, wait."
I ended the call.
Twenty minutes later, Rebecca arrived.
She was carrying a second folder.
"This is where it becomes unpleasant."
"More unpleasant than yesterday?"
"For him."
She opened the folder.
Inside were copies of wire transfers.
Several carried Ethan's electronic approval.
Others had approval codes assigned to his deputy.
But the money eventually flowed into accounts connected to Vanessa.
Then Rebecca showed me something else.
A property purchase.
A luxury condominium.
Title held by an LLC.
Beneficial owner:
Vanessa Cole.
Down payment funded through a series of transfers originating from Mercer Freight Solutions vendors.
I stared at the page.
"How much?"
"One point four million."
"And the bag?"
"Corporate card."
"The trips?"
"Several appear to be corporate."
"The jewelry?"
"We're still tracing it."
I leaned back against the pillow.
"He stole from my father's company to finance his affair."
Rebecca corrected me.
"Potentially."
She was a lawyer.
She liked accurate verbs.
"We have enough for termination."
"Criminal referral?"
"Your father wants the auditors to finish first."
I looked at Dad.
He stood near the window.
"You decide," he said.
"No."
He turned.
"The company is yours one day."
"Not today."
"Claire."
"I gave birth yesterday."
His expression softened.
"Fair."
I looked at Rebecca.
"Protect the company."
"We will."
"Protect my sons."
"Already happening."
"And don't negotiate away evidence because Ethan suddenly becomes cooperative."
Rebecca smiled slightly.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
By noon, Ethan's mother called.
Margaret had always treated me politely.
Not warmly.
Politely.
She adored Ethan.
She believed he could do no wrong.
