Chapter 13 - SCOTT FINALLY SAT ACROSS FROM ME
Scott called forty minutes later.
No greeting.
No sarcasm.
Just:
“We should finish this.”
I almost admired the confidence.
Almost.
“Finish what?”
“The land.”
I looked at Camille.
She stood several feet away inside Arthur's Paris law office, listening through a legally authorized monitored connection arranged through French counsel.
Priya was on video.
Arthur sat near the window.
Lorraine had been moved to another room after agreeing to speak separately with investigators.
Mark stood in the hallway because I had told him I didn't want him beside me.
For once, he listened.
Scott continued.
“You have the amendment now.”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand.”
“I understand you can't sell anything without me.”
He laughed.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether you want your father's confession everywhere tomorrow morning.”
I looked at the black case.
“Do it.”
Silence.
That had not been the answer he expected.
“Claire.”
“Release it.”
“You know what it does to his name?”
“Yes.”
“To Bennett Commercial?”
“Maybe.”
“To your clients?”
“I'll survive.”
His voice hardened.
“You think this is courage?”
“No.”
I leaned back.
“I think it's what happens when blackmail stops working.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Scott said:
“Meet me.”
“Where?”
“Marchand's office.”
Arthur raised his eyebrows.
Scott didn't know Arthur was already beside me.
“When?”
“An hour.”
“I'll be there.”
After the call, Camille looked at me.
“You understand you are not required to do this.”
“Yes.”
“You also understand that if he becomes threatening, the meeting ends.”
“Yes.”
Arthur spoke.
“He will not hurt her.”
I turned.
“You don't know your son.”
His face tightened.
“No.”
That seemed to hurt him.
An hour later, Scott Vale walked into the conference room.
I had met him dozens of times over eleven years.
At Mark's birthday.
At our house.
At dinner.
At a charity golf event.
He had eaten food I cooked.
Drunk wine from my father's cellar.
Once, he helped Mark install shelves in our garage.
I had thought he was arrogant.
Competitive.
Too interested in money.
I had never once imagined he had researched me before we met.
He stopped when he saw Arthur.
“Dad.”
Arthur's expression remained still.
“Scott.”
Then Scott saw me.
He smiled.
“Claire.”
“No.”
His smile faded.
“You don't get to say my name like we're friends.”
He placed a leather folder on the table.
“Fair.”
He sat.
I remained standing.
“Where is the trust amendment?”
Scott opened the folder.
There it was.
Dad's final amendment.
My direct consent requirement.
Original signature.
Notarized.
Paul had mailed it.
Scott touched the page.
“This changes the mechanics.”
“Not the result?”
“No.”
“You still think you're getting the property.”
“I think you'll sell.”
“Why?”
“Because you're practical.”
He slid a contract toward me.
Purchase price:
$96 million.
Below the projected maximum value.
Still enormous.
My thirty-eight percent economic interest would have been life-changing.
Scott thought numbers would do what threats hadn't.
“No.”
He smiled.
“Read the rest.”
I did.
An additional settlement.
$12 million paid directly to me.
Release of all claims relating to Vale Ridge.
Cancellation of the forged credit obligations.
Transfer of the Scottsdale house.
A confidentiality provision.
Of course.
“You're offering me money to stop investigating crimes committed against me.”
“I'm offering everyone a way out.”
“Everyone?”
“Mark avoids prosecution.”
My eyes narrowed.
“For what?”
Scott smiled.
“The forged guarantee.”
“He didn't forge it.”
“He watched.”
My stomach tightened.
“You know that because you did it.”
“Can you prove it?”
Camille was listening.
Priya had documents.
Mark had surrendered devices.
But Scott still believed uncertainty was power.
“Lorraine?”
I asked.
“What does she get?”
His smile disappeared.
“Nothing.”
There.
The final betrayal.
The mother who had built a scheme for her hidden son had become disposable too.
“Arthur?”
“Nothing.”
Arthur looked out the window.
“And Paul?”
“Paul gets to live somewhere warm.”
I almost laughed.
“You ruin everyone who helps you.”
Scott leaned back.
“They ruin themselves.”
That sentence explained him more clearly than anything else.
No loyalty.
No family.
No grief.
Only leverage.
I looked at him.
“Did you love Richard?”
His expression changed.
“He raised me.”
“That wasn't my question.”
“Yes.”
“Did you hate Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“Lorraine?”
“Yes.”
“Mark?”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
There it was.
The brother who had unknowingly grown up with the mother Scott wanted.
The brother who received Robert Hollis's name.
The brother Lorraine openly called her son.
And then Mark had done something unforgivable in Scott's mind.
He took me too.
“You were supposed to date me,” I said.
Scott smiled bitterly.
“Mark was supposed to introduce us.”
“But he didn't.”
“No.”
“He changed the plan.”
“He stole the plan.”
I laughed.
“I wasn't a plan.”
His eyes hardened.
“You were access.”
Arthur flinched.
Maybe hearing his son say it aloud finally destroyed whatever fantasy remained.
Scott continued.
“Your father built his wealth while Richard died under concrete.”
“My father was responsible.”
That surprised him.
“Yes.”
“I'll publish his confession.”
His expression flickered.
“And Arthur's negligence.”
Arthur nodded.
“And Lorraine's blackmail.”
Scott went still.
“And Paul's theft.”
Stillness became anger.
“And your fraud.”
He smiled again.
“You're willing to burn your own family name?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because unlike you, I finally understood something.”
I pushed the sale agreement back across the table.
“You can't blackmail somebody with the truth after they stop hiding from it.”
Scott stared at me.
Then he changed tactics.
“Mark knew about Hawaii.”
I felt my pulse jump.
Of course.
One final weapon.
“What exactly did he know?”
Scott smiled.
“He knew you didn't have a ticket.”
I said nothing.
“He canceled it.”
My stomach dropped.
Not Lorraine.
Not an airline mistake.
Mark.
Scott watched my face carefully.
“He canceled your seat three weeks before departure.”
“Why?”
“Ask him.”
“I am asking you.”
Scott leaned forward.
“Because he needed me to believe your marriage was collapsing.”
My chest tightened.
“He wanted me to trust him.”
My hands went cold.
“So he humiliated me.”
“Yes.”
“He knew Lorraine was going to call it a family trip.”
“Yes.”
“He knew I had packed.”
“Yes.”
“He watched me rearrange my work schedule.”
“Yes.”
Each answer cut cleanly.
Scott looked almost pleased.
“He thought you'd stay in Chicago.”
“But I went to Europe.”
“That surprised everyone.”
I stared at him.
Mark hadn't only failed to defend me.
He had created the humiliation.
For another secret plan.
Another attempt to protect me by using me without permission.
Scott leaned closer.
“Still think he's different from us?”
I looked through the glass wall.
Mark stood in the hallway.
He could not hear Scott.
But he saw my face.
And he knew.
Then Scott reached for the trust amendment.
Camille entered.
The meeting was over.
Scott stood.
“What is this?”
Camille identified herself.
Two investigators appeared behind her.
Scott looked at Arthur.
“You set me up?”
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
Scott turned toward me.
“You?”
I held his gaze.
“I told you I was done being somebody else's plan.”
Camille informed him he was being detained in connection with an active financial investigation involving identity misuse, fraudulent corporate registrations, and suspected money laundering.
Scott looked at me one last time.
“You think this fixes your marriage?”
I didn't answer.
Because this had stopped being about saving my marriage.
It was about deciding whether there was anything left worth saving.
As they escorted Scott away, Mark remained in the hallway.
I walked toward him.
He already looked defeated.
“You canceled my ticket.”
Not a question.
“Yes.”
May you like
I stared at the man I had loved for more than a decade.
And for once, there were no villains left between us for him to hide behind.
