Chapter 9 - MY MARRIAGE WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT
I confronted Crispen that night in Dorothea’s office.
Two attorneys present.
Victor outside.
No intimacy left.
No room for charm.
I placed a copy of the ledger in front of him.
“When did you first hear my name?”
He did not answer.
“When?”
“Before we met.”
My stomach turned.
“How long before?”
“Three months.”
The room became very quiet.
We met at a publishing fundraiser.
I spilled wine on his jacket.
He made me laugh.
We spent four hours talking.
For ten years, I believed that night was accidental.
It wasn’t.
“Your father sent you?”
Crispen looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To find out what June had.”
I stood.
Dorothea touched my wrist.
Not to stop me.
To steady me.
Crispen continued.
“I was supposed to get close to you.”
“How close?”
“He didn’t say marry you.”
That distinction was almost insulting.
“I fell in love with you.”
I laughed once.
“Do not use love to disinfect strategy.”
His eyes filled.
“It stopped being strategy.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s convenient.”
“It’s true.”
Maybe it was.
That was almost worse.
Because it meant Crispen loved me and still chose betrayal repeatedly.
He had years to tell me.
He did not.
“Did you marry me for access?”
“No.”
“Did you benefit from access?”
“Yes.”
“Did you search my mother’s papers?”
His face changed.
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Ardan—”
“How many?”
“Four.”
I closed my eyes.
Our wedding anniversary.
My mother’s funeral.
The first Christmas after June died.
And once while I was on a book tour.
He remembered each occasion.
That told me everything.
Then I asked:
“Celia?”
He shook his head.
“We never slept together.”
“Did you kiss her?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Not the betrayal I originally imagined.
Still betrayal.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“Why?”
“I was drunk.”
“Boring answer.”
“I know.”
“Did it continue?”
“No.”
Celia had pulled away and threatened to report him if it happened again.
That explained some of the tension.
I felt humiliated.
But not broken.
Something had changed.
Maybe because the marriage had already died three revelations ago.
Then Crispen said:
“Dad knows Evelyn has the ledger.”
“How?”
“He has people watching her.”
My anger sharpened.
“Is she in danger?”
“I don’t think he’d hurt her.”
“That is not an answer.”
Crispen looked at me.
“He won’t need to.”
“Why?”
“Because tomorrow morning he’s announcing bankruptcy.”
I frowned.
“Whitfield Hospitality?”
“No.”
He swallowed.
“Bowman Capital.”
For one second, I did not understand.
Then I did.
Graham intended to file fraudulent claims suggesting my trust owed Whitfield Hospitality tens of millions.
If successful, he could tie up the Bowman assets in litigation for years.
May you like
And the lawyer preparing those claims was someone I knew.
My divorce attorney.
