Chapter 30 - The Woman Before Me
I did not answer Julian immediately.
Once, four words from him could have ruined an entire day.
Now I made breakfast.
Leo wanted his toast cut into triangles.
Claire wanted whatever Leo had.
Barnaby wanted both.
The world remained full of demands that were honest.
I dealt with those first.
Then I called Sarah.
Julian’s message was forwarded to his attorney, and any further communication went through counsel.
He did not get a private line into my kitchen because he had discovered another secret worth trading.
Two days later, we received a written proffer describing information he was prepared to provide.
A woman’s name appeared near the top.
Rebecca Sloan.
I had never heard it.
Julian claimed Russell had introduced him to Rebecca before he met me. She had recently inherited an interest in a family manufacturing company.
Julian dated her.
Discussed projects with her.
Encouraged her to consider an investment.
Then she began asking questions.
The relationship ended.
At least, that was Julian’s version.
I no longer treated his version as a destination.
It was a starting point that needed checking.
Ramirez’s team located Rebecca.
She agreed to speak.
When Sarah told me she wanted to meet, I felt an exhaustion so deep it seemed physical.
Another woman.
Another room.
Another stack of things I should have known.
Still, I said yes.
Before the meeting, I attended the scholarship reception.
We had moved it to the community center.
No elaborate floral displays.
No large portrait of my father.
Just folding chairs, student artwork, and a table where families could ask questions without being photographed.
Natalie came with her mother.
Clara handled the food.
She had insisted on donating her labor, and I had insisted the foundation pay for ingredients.
We were learning to make agreements that did not depend on guilt.
Leo stood beside me as the first scholarship recipient walked forward.
A girl named Tessa.
She wore shoes that pinched and carried a folder against her chest as though someone might take it away.
When I handed her the award letter, she whispered, “Can I really keep this?”
“Yes.”
“Even if somebody gets mad?”
I thought of the court filing.
The blue envelope.
The letter from the mother who sent five dollars.
“Yes,” I said again. “This belongs to you.”
Afterward, Natalie stood beside me near the empty refreshment table.
“I enrolled in a class.”
I turned.
“What?”
“Evening program. One class to start.”
I hugged her before asking permission.
She hugged me back.
For a moment, the story was bigger than the men who had damaged it.
Then Monday came.
Rebecca Sloan arrived at Sarah’s office wearing a simple black coat.
She was older than I expected.
There was a faint white scar along one eyebrow, and she carried a canvas bag stuffed with folders.
When she saw me, she did not offer sympathy.
She offered recognition.
“I wondered whether you knew.”
“About Julian?”
“About all of it.”
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“Neither did I. At first.”
Rebecca had not invested.
That was the first thing she told us.
She had become suspicious after Julian introduced her to Russell and pushed for decisions too quickly.
Then documents appeared bearing her signature.
Authorizations she denied giving.
A loan inquiry.
A proposed guarantee.
She hired an attorney and threatened legal action.
The documents were withdrawn.
She was told a clerical mistake had occurred.
“Why didn’t you pursue it?”
She looked at me steadily.
“I did.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“What happened?”
“My lawyer negotiated an agreement. They paid my costs. I agreed not to make public accusations without further evidence.”
“Who represented you?”
Rebecca opened her bag.
She placed a folder on the table.
“Gregory Hayes.”
The room became very quiet.
Rebecca looked from Sarah to me.
“I found out later he had worked with Russell before. He said it didn’t affect his ability to advise me.”
I thought of my father.
Evan.
Judith.
Clara.
People approaching the same door from different streets, believing the person inside would help.
Rebecca slid another document across the table.
A copy of the letter she had sent Julian after ending the relationship.
At the bottom, beneath the formal language, was a handwritten sentence.
Do not approach another woman using the information you took from me.
I looked up.
“What information?”
She reached into her folder again.
This time, she handed me a photograph.
A charity dinner.
Round tables.
White flowers.
My father standing beside a display about local education.
I was beside him, smiling at someone outside the frame.
Rebecca pointed to the background.
Julian stood near Russell Pike.
Watching us.
“I brought them to that event,” she said.
My stomach turned.
Sarah asked about the date.
Rebecca answered.
Six weeks before Julian and I met at what I had always believed was a chance encounter.
I remembered dropping my keys outside a coffee shop.
A handsome stranger picking them up.
His smile.
The effortless way he asked my name.
I looked down at the photograph.
Behind my father, partly obscured by a centerpiece, stood one more man.
I recognized him from childhood.
He had attended our birthdays.
Sent flowers when my mother died.
Served for years as an independent adviser to my father’s original trust.
“Rebecca,” I said carefully. “Who invited him?”
She followed my finger.
“Oh. You know Thomas Weller?”
Sarah went still beside me.
Thomas had reviewed the foundation’s first funding transfer.
Thomas had access to records showing where the protected money remained.
Thomas had called that morning to say there was nothing to worry about.
Rebecca’s expression changed.
“Audrey?”
My phone began vibrating on the table.
Thomas Weller.
May you like
I watched his name appear beneath the ringing symbol.
Then, for the first time in my life, I let him wait.
