Chapter 4
“What will you do with it?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at him.
“I think you do.”
Dominic was silent.
Then he walked toward the glass.
“My father wanted the company to survive him.
Somewhere along the way I decided that meant I had to preserve everything exactly as he left it.”
“But you expanded everything.”
“Except emotionally.”
I almost smiled.
“Is that what you call it?”
His mouth moved faintly.
“Richard would probably call it something more expensive.”
“He would use fewer words.”
Dominic looked at me.
“I’ve been tired for three years, Evelyn.”
The confession was so quiet that I nearly missed it.
“I know.”
“No.
You knew I was busy.”
“You never told me the difference.”
“I didn’t know how.”
I folded my arms.
“So instead you had an affair.”
He flinched.
“Yes.”
“You don’t get to use exhaustion to explain that away.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
“I made choices that hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“And Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“And probably myself, though I realize that earns very little sympathy.”
“It earns accuracy.”
He looked down.
For once, Dominic Vale had no defense prepared.
I asked the question that had been sitting beneath everything.
“Do you still want the divorce?”
He looked at me for a long time.
“I don’t know.”
Something inside me settled.
Not because I wanted him to say no.
Because suddenly I understood that I had been waiting for him to decide my future.
That was the habit our marriage had built.
Dominic chose the restaurants.
Dominic scheduled vacations.
Dominic chose apartments, investments, cars, charities.
I had mistaken ease for partnership.
“No,” I said.
He frowned.
“No what?”
“You don’t get to answer that tonight.”
His expression changed.
“Evelyn—”
“You told me to pack my things.”
“I know.”
“You brought Vanessa here believing I would quietly disappear.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“I know.”
“So whatever happens next, I decide what I want before I ask what you want.”
Dominic nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
“I’m staying at the penthouse tonight.”
He looked surprised.
“It’s your home too.”
“Yes.”
That was the first time I had said it like that.
Not your penthouse.
Not Dominic’s place.
My home too.
“And Monday,” I continued, “I’m attending the board meeting.”
His expression tightened.
“As a shareholder?”
“As an eleven-percent shareholder.”
“You don’t have board rights.”
“I know.
Margaret says I have observer rights attached to the trust.”
Dominic gave a humorless laugh.
“Of course Margaret says that.”
“She also says the board can’t close the sale without my vote because of the protective covenant attached to my mother’s original investment.”
That part I had learned ten minutes earlier.
Dominic stared at me.
“So Richard planned this.”
“No.”
“He invited you on the weekend before the vote.”
“Yes.”
“Evelyn.”
“Richard didn’t create the covenant.
My mother did.”
That silenced him.
“Why?”
“To protect the original company from being sold without the trust’s consent for fifteen years.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“Fifteen years.”
“Yes.”
“When does it expire?”
“Tuesday.”
He stared.
The meeting was Monday.
One day before the covenant disappeared.
“Did you know?”
I asked.
“No.”
I believed him.
That was the strange thing.
After a night of discovering his lies, I believed that answer.
Dominic paced once across the terrace.
“So if you vote no Monday, the sale dies.”
“Yes.”
“And Tuesday I can call another meeting and approve it without you.”
“Possibly.”
“Then why does Monday matter?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He looked at me.
For the first time, there was no condescension in his face.
Only curiosity.
Maybe even respect.
“Your mother knew what she was doing.”
“She usually did.”
“I wish she’d liked me.”
“She did.”
His surprise was almost painful.
“She liked you enough to worry about you.”
“That sounds less encouraging.”
“It was the highest form of affection she offered most people.”
A small laugh escaped him.
Then the terrace door opened.
Margaret stepped outside.
“Evelyn, I was looking for you.”
“What happened?”
She carried her phone in one hand.
“I reviewed the Northline documents again.”
Dominic straightened.
“Why?”
“Because something bothered me about the transaction structure.”
His voice became guarded.
“Those documents are confidential.”
“I received them legally through the trust’s information rights.”
Margaret looked at me.
“There is a side agreement.”
Dominic frowned.
“What side agreement?”
“That is precisely the problem.
It does not appear in the board package.”
His face changed.
“Show me.”
She handed him the phone.
I watched Dominic read.
His expression went from irritation to confusion.
Then to something I had rarely seen in him.
Concern.
“What is it?”
I asked.
He looked at me.
“Northline has an option.”
“On what?”
“The river terminal.”
“But you said you excluded it.”
“I did.”
Margaret nodded.
“The main contract excludes it.
The separate option agreement gives Northline the right to purchase it eighteen months after closing.”
Dominic stared at the document.
“I never approved this.”
“Someone did,” Margaret said.
“Who?”
She scrolled to the signature page.
The name there was not Dominic’s.
It belonged to his chief financial officer.
Martin Vale.
Dominic’s younger brother.
May you like
And suddenly the board meeting on Monday was no longer only about whether I would support my husband’s sale.
It was about whether Dominic himself knew what he was actually selling.
