Chapter 10 - The BoardroomThe Caldwell Properties board meeting lasted four hours.

Evelyn entered as chairwoman.

She left temporarily suspended.

The decision was unanimous.

Including Ethan's vote.

Afterward they stood alone in the conference room.

Evelyn collected her papers.

"You voted correctly."

Ethan stared through the glass wall at Manhattan.

"It didn't feel correct."

"Correct decisions rarely care how they feel."

He looked back.

"How long?"

"Until the forensic review concludes."

"And if they ask you to resign permanently?"

"I will."

Ethan studied her.

Years earlier he would have thought losing control of Caldwell Properties would destroy Evelyn.

Instead she looked relieved.

"The company isn't the family," she said.

"You used to treat it like it was."

"I was wrong."

Claire entered.

"Investigators are ready."

Vanessa arrived ten minutes later with Laura.

She had changed completely from the bride who had screamed beneath the chandeliers.

No tiara.

No diamonds.

No designer armor.

Black trousers.

White blouse.

Hair tied back.

She placed her phone on the table.

An investigator explained that any meeting with Grant would happen only under their direction.

No heroics.

No improvisation.

Vanessa nodded.

Ethan sat across from her.

Grant had instructed her to meet him the following evening at a private dining room in a Midtown hotel.

He wanted proof that Evelyn would pay fifteen million.

Investigators wanted Grant to state explicitly what he possessed and what he intended to do if payment was refused.

Evelyn looked at Vanessa.

"You can still say no."

Vanessa replied, "I know."

"Grant may suspect something."

"I know."

"He may try to frighten you."

Vanessa almost laughed.

"He already succeeded."

Evelyn's voice softened.

"Fear isn't the same as obligation."

Vanessa looked at her.

Neither woman mentioned the wedding.

They didn't need to.

That night, Ethan returned to the apartment he had expected to share with Vanessa after their honeymoon.

Wedding gifts filled the foyer.

Silver bowls.

Crystal decanters.

Monogrammed towels.

Everything belonged to a future that had lasted less than a day.

He found Vanessa sitting on the kitchen floor.

She held their marriage license.

"I was looking for my passport," she said.

Ethan leaned against the doorway.

"You don't need to explain why you're here."

She looked at the paper.

"We're legally married."

"Yes."

"For less than forty-eight hours."

"Yes."

She laughed through tears.

"That may be some kind of record."

Ethan did not smile.

Vanessa folded the license.

"I signed the prenup."

"I know."

"I won't contest it."

"Okay."

"I'll return every wedding gift."

"Vanessa."

She looked up.

"We don't need to settle our divorce tonight."

"I do."

"Why?"

"Because tomorrow I have to sit across from Grant and act like I still think money can fix what I did."

Ethan sat on the floor opposite her.

"Are you afraid?"

"Terrified."

"You don't have to do it."

"I know."

"Then why?"

She stared at the marriage license.

"Because Grant picked me for a reason."

"Your access."

"My resentment."

Ethan said nothing.

"He didn't create my greed," she continued. "He recognized it. Every time I blamed your mother, every time I told myself rich people deserved to be manipulated, every time I treated your trust like a resource... that was me."

"You were also desperate."

"Don't rescue me from responsibility."

Ethan looked at her.

It was the most mature thing she had ever said.

That made it crueler that it came too late.

Vanessa continued.

"I don't expect you to forgive me."

"I don't know if I can."

"I know."

He looked around the apartment.

"Our first dance was supposed to be tonight."

She smiled faintly.

"What song?"

"You chose it."

"I changed it four times."

"Exactly."

They both laughed.

For several seconds, they sounded like the couple they had been.

Then silence returned.

Ethan stood.

At the doorway he stopped.

"Vanessa."

"Yes?"

"Tomorrow, don't prove anything to me."

She looked up.

"Come back alive and tell the truth."

The next evening, Vanessa entered the Midtown hotel wearing a hidden recording device under the direction of investigators.

Grant Voss was already waiting.

He was sixty-one, silver-haired, elegant, and smiling.

"You finally look like a Caldwell," he said.

Vanessa sat opposite him.

"What does that mean?"

"Unhappy."

She placed her purse on the chair.

"Evelyn wants proof you have R-17."

Grant smiled.

"Of course she does."

"Show me."

He slid a photograph across the table.

Richard's missing box sat open on a desk.

Inside were dozens of files.

Vanessa kept her breathing steady.

"Where is it?"

"Safe."

"Evelyn says fifteen million is too much."

Grant leaned closer.

"Then tell her tomorrow's headline costs more."

"What headline?"

His smile widened.

"The one where I tell the world Evelyn Caldwell paid millions to hide her husband's crimes."

Vanessa forced herself to ask the question investigators needed.

"And if she pays?"

"I give back the originals."

"All copies too?"

Grant laughed.

"No one gives away insurance."

Vanessa stared.

"So you keep enough to blackmail her again."

Grant's smile vanished.

"You've become judgmental."

"No."

She leaned back.

"Just less stupid."

Something changed in his eyes.

And Vanessa knew instantly that he had realized.

Grant looked toward her blouse.

Then beneath the table.

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Vanessa's heart stopped.

He whispered, "Who are you recording this for?"