Chapter 9 - Dominic’s deposition lasted seven hours.
Cassidy did not attend.
That surprised everyone except Dominic.
“You don’t want to be there?” Rebecca asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he does not need an audience.”
Rebecca considered that.
“Most spouses would go for support.”
“I supported him by putting a sandwich in his bag.”
“A sandwich.”
“Turkey.”
“Powerful.”
“Exactly.”
The truth was more complicated.
Cassidy wanted to go.
She wanted to sit where Dominic could see her.
She wanted Charles Vale to see her too.
She wanted every lawyer in the room to understand that Dominic no longer stood alone.
But she also knew him.
If she sat behind him, he would watch her reactions.
Measure pain.
Edit instinctively.
Protect.
Even now.
Even after everything.
So she stayed away.
At nine-thirty that morning, Cassidy stood inside the unfinished fourth restaurant while contractors argued about electrical outlets.
At ten-fifteen, she approved pendant lights.
At eleven-forty, she rejected a pastry display because the shelves looked like “something from an airport pretending to be France.”
At twelve-ten, Emily texted from school.
Did he start?
Cassidy replied:
Yes.
Is he scared?
Probably.
Did you pack the good sandwich?
Yes.
The one with mustard?
Yes.
Okay.
At one-twenty, Dominic’s attorney texted only:
Going as expected.
Cassidy hated that message.
Nothing good had ever followed as expected in legal language.
At three, the contractor discovered old water damage behind a wall.
At three-fifteen, Cassidy seriously considered arson.
At four, Rebecca called.
“He’s still in.”
“How bad?”
“Charles’s attorney is pressing hard on Dominic’s own crimes.”
“That was expected.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you sound like that?”
A pause.
“They produced an email.”
Cassidy stopped walking.
“What email?”
“From Dominic. Seventeen years ago.”
Her stomach tightened.
“What does it say?”
“He approved movement of funds from one subsidiary to another. One of the accounts overlaps with money originally diverted from the pension pool.”
“Did he know?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes.”
Cassidy closed her eyes.
“But.”
“But the email makes Charles’s argument cleaner. They are saying Dominic continued benefiting from the structure and now wants to rewrite history.”
“He already admitted benefiting.”
“I know.”
“Does the email change anything criminally?”
“Not according to his attorney.”
“Then what?”
“Publicly, it may get ugly.”
Cassidy laughed once.
“Publicly has already been ugly.”
“Cassidy.”
“What?”
“There may be reporters outside your house tonight.”
She looked across the unfinished restaurant.
Workers moved ladders.
A drill started.
Life continued offensively.
“Okay.”
“You want security?”
“Yes.”
That answer came easier now.
Protection requested was different from protection imposed.
“I’ll arrange it.”
“Thank you.”
Dominic returned home after eight.
He walked through the kitchen door carrying the untouched sandwich.
Cassidy looked at it.
“You didn’t eat.”
“I forgot.”
“That is grounds for divorce.”
“I thought the cheese incident was grounds for divorce.”
“Our marriage contains many exit clauses.”
He placed the sandwich in the refrigerator.
His face looked gray.
Cassidy did not ask how it went.
She waited.
Dominic removed his jacket.
He sat.
Five minutes passed.
Pancake put his head on Dominic’s knee.
Dominic scratched behind the dog’s ears.
Finally he said, “I signed that transfer.”
“I heard.”
“I don’t remember doing it.”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t.”
“I know.”
Cassidy poured water.
She set a glass in front of him.
Dominic stared at it.
“I was twenty-eight. My father had been dead three years. I was already running half the holding companies.”
Cassidy sat opposite him.
“I signed hundreds of transfers.”
“I know.”
“If someone had asked me then where the money originated, I would have said I didn’t care.”
Cassidy remained quiet.
“That is the problem.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
She did not soften the answer.
Dominic nodded slowly.
“I kept thinking the archive would draw a clean line.”
“What line?”
“Before me. After me.”
Cassidy understood.
He wanted his father’s crimes on one side.
His own on another.
Separate.
Measurable.
Consequences assigned correctly.
Life refused.
“The line isn’t clean,” she said.
“No.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s no line.”
He looked down.
“Charles knew exactly what he was doing.”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t.”
“No.”
“I also didn’t care enough to ask.”
“Yes.”
Dominic’s eyes closed.
Cassidy walked around the table.
She stood between his knees.
He rested his forehead against her stomach.
She put a hand in his hair.
“I’m so tired of becoming evidence against myself.”
Cassidy’s chest tightened.
“You’re not evidence.”
“That sounded better in my head.”
“You’re tired.”
“Yes.”
“You need food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I did not ask.”
A faint smile.
She heated the sandwich.
At nine-sixteen, the first reporter rang the doorbell.
Security intercepted him.
At nine-forty, another car parked across the street.
At ten-ten, an article went live.
DOMINIC VALE APPROVED TRANSFERS TIED TO DISPUTED PENSION FUNDS.
The headline was technically true.
The article, read carefully, explained that no evidence established Dominic knew the source of the funds.
Most people did not read carefully.
By midnight, old photographs returned to social media.
Dominic in expensive suits.
Dominic entering federal court.
Cassidy outside the family courthouse years earlier.
Someone reposted the picture of Emily leaving school from when she was seven.
Cassidy’s blood turned cold.
“No.”
Dominic looked over.
“What?”
She showed him.
His face changed instantly.
He reached for his phone.
Cassidy grabbed his wrist.
“Wait.”
“They used her image.”
“I know.”
“I am calling—”
“I know.”
She looked directly at him.
“Tell me what you’re going to do.”
He stopped.
The old Dominic would already have called lawyers, security teams, technology contractors and possibly someone whose job title did not appear on tax documents.
The current Dominic forced himself to breathe.
“Request removal through counsel.”
“Yes.”
“Document accounts reposting it.”
“Yes.”
“Notify the school.”
“Yes.”
“Security tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
He looked at Cassidy.
“Nothing illegal.”
She released his wrist.
“Good.”
His mouth twisted.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I enjoy personal growth.”
The image was removed from the original account by morning.
Copies remained.
The internet did not understand clean endings.
Neither did families.
Two days later, Emily got into a fight.
Not a dramatic fight.
No punches.
No blood.
She shoved Tyler Bennett into a locker after he showed another student the old courthouse photograph and called Dominic a thief.
Cassidy received the school call at eleven.
Dominic was already in a meeting with his attorneys.
She did not call him.
At the principal’s office, Emily sat with her arms folded.
Cassidy entered.
Emily looked guilty for approximately half a second.
Then defensive.
“He deserved it.”
Cassidy sat.
“That is rarely a useful opening.”
“He did.”
“You shoved him.”
“He showed everyone the picture.”
“I know.”
“And he said Dominic belongs in prison.”
Cassidy exhaled.
“Dominic did belong in prison.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“That’s not the point.”
“No.”
Cassidy softened.
“The point is he was trying to hurt you.”
“Yes.”
“And it worked.”
Emily looked away.
“That makes him responsible for being cruel.”
Silence.
“It does not make you allowed to shove him.”
“He wouldn’t stop.”
“Did you tell a teacher?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Emily’s answer came quietly.
“Because I didn’t want everyone thinking I’m a baby.”
Cassidy understood that too well.
Adults called for help only slightly more elegantly.
The principal returned.
Emily received two days of after-school detention.
No suspension.
No permanent disciplinary notation.
On the drive home, she was silent.
At a red light, Cassidy said, “You know what Dominic is going to do.”
Emily groaned.
“Give me a speech.”
“No.”
“Ask twelve questions.”
“Probably.”
“Say something annoying about consequences.”
“Definitely.”
Emily slumped.
When they reached home, Dominic’s car was already outside.
He stood in the kitchen.
Emily stopped.
“How do you know?”
Dominic held up his phone.
“The school called both emergency contacts.”
“Traitors.”
Cassidy kissed Dominic’s cheek.
“She’s yours.”
Emily looked betrayed.
“Cass.”
“I have invoices.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Correct.”
Cassidy went to her office but left the door slightly open.
Not to spy.
To listen professionally.
Dominic sat at the kitchen table.
Emily remained standing.
“You shoved someone.”
“He deserved it.”
“That is not how consequences work.”
Cassidy smiled.
Emily had predicted accurately.
“He showed everyone your picture.”
“I know.”
“He called you a thief.”
“I have been called worse.”
“Well, I haven’t.”
Dominic was silent.
Good answer.
Emily continued.
“You don’t care?”
“I care that you were hurt.”
“No. About what people say.”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you do anything?”
“What should I do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
Emily sat.
Her voice became smaller.
“I hate them talking about you.”
“I know.”
“What if everyone thinks you’re bad forever?”
Dominic leaned back.
“That might happen.”
Cassidy stopped sorting invoices.
Emily whispered, “Doesn’t that scare you?”
“Yes.”
“Then fix it.”
Dominic looked toward the hallway.
Cassidy could not see his face.
His voice came quietly.
“I spent a lot of years trying to control what people thought of me.”
“How?”
“Money. Lawyers. Fear sometimes.”
Emily was silent.
“It worked.”
“Then why don’t you do that now?”
“Because it made me worse.”
Cassidy closed her eyes.
Dominic continued.
“You cannot build your life around forcing everyone to tell the story about you that you prefer.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Yes.”
“What do you do when they lie?”
“Correct what matters. Protect private information. Tell the truth when necessary.”
“And when they’re mean?”
“Sometimes you go home.”
Emily sniffed.
“That sounds weak.”
“I used to think so.”
“What do you think now?”
A long pause.
“That sometimes walking away is the hardest thing in the room.”
Cassidy heard Emily’s chair move.
Then she said, “Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Cass is.”
“Your sister is not mad.”
“How do you know?”
“She gets quieter when she is mad.”
Cassidy opened the office door.
“I can hear you.”
Dominic looked toward her.
“Evidence.”
Emily laughed.
The sound released something inside the house.
A week later, Dominic returned for a second deposition.
This time Charles attended personally.
At the end of six hours, Charles’s attorneys renewed the settlement offer.
More money.
Faster compensation.
One condition.
Dominic had to state that Eleanor’s records did not prove Charles knowingly participated in the diversion.
Dominic called Cassidy from the courthouse parking garage.
“They increased the fund.”
“How much?”
He told her.
Cassidy sat down.
It was enough to matter.
Enough to repair roofs.
Pay medical bills.
Restore some lost retirement security.
“Do the documents prove Charles knew?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then your statement would be false.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Cassidy looked out the restaurant window.
“What are you going to do?”
“I already declined.”
Her heart tightened.
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because I wanted you to know before the articles.”
She smiled.
That was growth too.
“Thank you.”
“Charles says I’m choosing revenge over victims.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then there’s your answer.”
“He says without settlement, litigation could take years.”
“He may be right.”
“He says some claimants could die before receiving anything.”
Cassidy closed her eyes.
That one hurt.
“What do the plaintiffs want?”
“Most want to continue.”
“Most?”
“Some want settlement.”
“Then it’s complicated.”
“Yes.”
“I hate that word.”
“I know.”
Cassidy thought for a moment.
“Can you contribute money independently?”
Dominic was quiet.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“Would it look like buying silence?”
“Possibly.”
“Can the plaintiffs structure an interim hardship fund?”
Another silence.
Then Dominic said, “I don’t know.”
“Ask.”
“Cassidy.”
“What?”
“You said mashed potatoes were the limit of your expertise.”
“I expanded.”
Dominic laughed.
Three weeks later, a temporary assistance fund was created with contributions from several sources.
Dominic contributed anonymously.
Cassidy knew because marriage eliminated many mysteries.
The civil case continued.
Charles continued denying wrongdoing.
Truth remained expensive.
But for the first time, Dominic discovered accountability did not require waiting for a judge to invent the perfect repair.
Sometimes you repaired what you could before anyone ordered you.
The fourth restaurant opened in November.
On opening night, Cassidy stood near the kitchen watching every table fill.
Rebecca arrived.
Nathan came with his wife.
Grace, Emily’s former nanny, brought flowers.
Several employees from Cassidy’s original diner came.
Even Jerry appeared.
Older.
Louder.
Still convinced Dominic looked like Dracula.
At eight-forty, Cassidy realized Dominic was missing.
She found him outside.
He stood near the alley behind the restaurant.
No coat.
Cold air.
Hands in his pockets.
Cassidy stepped beside him.
“You disappeared.”
“I was giving you space.”
“It’s my opening night.”
“Yes.”
“You’re my husband.”
“I know.”
“That generally qualifies you for indoor access.”
He smiled.
Cassidy looked at him.
“What?”
Dominic stared through the rear window at the restaurant.
“You did this.”
“Yes.”
“No, I mean all of it.”
Cassidy folded her arms.
“Careful.”
“I am not taking credit.”
“Good.”
“I remember the diner.”
“So do I.”
“Thirty-seven dollars.”
“Fourteen cents.”
“I remember thinking you were desperate.”
“I was.”
“I thought desperation made choices simple.”
Cassidy looked at him.
“And?”
“I was wrong.”
“Frequently.”
Dominic smiled.
Then his face became serious.
“You chose me when you didn’t need to.”
Cassidy’s hand found his.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think I understood what that meant until now.”
“What does it mean?”
He looked through the window again.
Emily was carrying water glasses despite being explicitly prohibited from working during opening night.
Jerry was telling a story with both hands.
Pancake was not present because health codes remained cruel.
Dominic squeezed Cassidy’s fingers.
“It means I don’t have to make myself necessary.”
Cassidy’s eyes burned.
“No.”
“I can just be here.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Still learning.”
“So am I.”
She pulled him toward the door.
“Come inside.”
“What if I ruin the evening?”
“You will.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“You already told one table their seating arrangement creates inefficient server traffic.”
“It does.”
“Dominic.”
“Fine.”
She opened the door.
Warm noise rushed over them.
The restaurant was alive.
Imperfect.
Uncontrolled.
Full.
Cassidy looked at her husband.
May you like
“Just be here.”
And he was.
