Part 4
“Which counsel?”
“Martin Sloane.”
Adrian turned toward Celeste.
“Sloane represents you.”
“He represents the household.”
“He represented you in the prenuptial revision.”
Celeste’s mouth tightened. “That was twelve years ago.”
“Conflicts don’t improve with age.”
Graham said, “I should have verified.”
“Yes.”
Adrian’s response was quiet enough to make Graham look down.
Mara had expected loyalty to soften the exchange. It did not.
“Did you report the signed documents to me?” Adrian asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Your father asked that you not be informed until the board meeting.”
“How did he ask?”
Graham hesitated again.
“Mrs. Vale relayed it.”
Adrian looked at him for several seconds.
Graham’s composure remained intact, but a pulse moved visibly in his temple.
“You didn’t hear it from him.”
“No.”
“You didn’t see him sign.”
“No.”
“You knew he had lost speech.”
“Yes.”
“And you filed the documents.”
“Yes.”
Celeste crossed toward them. “This is grotesque. Harold made his wishes clear long before the stroke.”
Adrian held up the notebook.
“He wrote your name beside the word no.”
“He also wrote Graham’s name.”
“That’s why we’re having this conversation.”
Mara lowered the ice pack. “Mr. Vale tried to tear up a document.”
Everyone looked at her.
Celeste’s face hardened.
Adrian spoke carefully. “When?”
“The day Mr. Pike came.”
Graham stared at her.
“You were in the room?”
“In the bathroom doorway. Mrs. Vale told me to wait there.”
“What did you see?”
“Mr. Vale pushed the folder away. She put the pen in his hand.”
Celeste stepped toward Mara.
Adrian moved between them.
He did not touch Celeste. He simply occupied the space she intended to cross.
Mara continued.
“His hand wouldn’t close around it. She held his wrist.”
“That is a lie,” Celeste said.
“Did he sign?” Adrian asked.
Mara’s eyes filled, not with tears but with the strain of remembering something she had tried to make less serious.
“He made a mark.”
“Was it his signature?”
“No.”
Celeste’s voice rose. “She was standing across the room.”
“I was six feet away.”
“You are not a handwriting expert.”
“No.”
“Then stop pretending you know what you saw.”
Mara looked at Adrian.
“I saw him write no on the folder after she left.”
The city beyond the windows remained gray and indistinct. A siren moved somewhere far below, fading before it reached the next avenue.
Adrian opened his father’s notebook again.
“Graham, retrieve the originals.”
“They are at the family office.”
“Have them brought here.”
Celeste gave a sharp laugh. “You froze my accounts based on the word of a frightened employee, and now you’re moving confidential documents through the city because she claims your father scribbled on a folder?”
“No.”
Adrian looked at the cut on Mara’s lip.
“I froze the accounts because you answered a question with fear.”
Celeste’s face changed.
For one moment, Adrian saw not the polished woman on the staircase but someone much younger, caught in a room where another person controlled the doors.
She recovered quickly.
“You always did mistake cruelty for intelligence.”
Adrian felt the sentence land in an old place.
His father had said something similar when Adrian removed him from the company’s daily operations three years earlier. Harold had accused him of confusing efficiency with character. Adrian had answered that character did not appear in quarterly reports.
He had regretted the line before leaving the room and never apologized.
“Graham,” Adrian said, “call Dr. Harrow. Tell her I want an assessment today.”
Celeste moved toward the hallway. “She is not entering this apartment.”
Mara stood too fast. The room tilted. She caught the edge of the bench.
Adrian turned toward her.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You almost fell.”
“I haven’t eaten.”
Celeste smiled without warmth. “Another example of her professionalism.”
Mara’s humiliation returned immediately. Her shoulders drew inward.
Adrian looked toward the kitchen.
“Graham, food.”
“I can get it,” Mara said.
“No.”
“I work here.”
“Not right now.”
The words were not unkind, but they removed the one role she knew how to occupy in the apartment.
She sat again.
Graham went into the kitchen.
Celeste watched him leave. “You think acting protective makes you different from Harold.”
Adrian met her gaze.
“No. I think asking what happened is a beginning.”
“You did not ask me.”
“I asked twice.”
“You asked whether I touched her. You had already decided what the answer meant.”
“Did you push her?”
Celeste’s jaw tightened.
Mara looked at the floor.
Adrian waited.
“Yes,” Celeste said. “I put my hand on her shoulder after she became hysterical.”
“I wasn’t hysterical,” Mara said.
Celeste turned. “You threatened to remove my husband from his home.”
“I said he needed evaluation.”
“You said you would call emergency services.”
“He was difficult to wake.”
“He was sleeping.”
“You gave him more medication than the order allowed.”
Celeste’s face drained of color.
Mara seemed to realize what she had said. Her hand rose to her mouth.
Adrian looked between them.
“Is that true?”
Celeste answered first. “I gave him what the doctor prescribed.”
Mara shook her head. “The as-needed dose had already been given.”
“You charted it incorrectly.”
“I charted the exact time.”
“You changed the time after we argued.”
“No.”
Celeste looked at Adrian. “She has been building a case against me since September. She photographs pill bottles. She records conversations. She steals household papers.”
Mara’s breathing became shallow.
Adrian recognized panic before it became visible in her face.
“Do you have recordings?” he asked.
She did not answer.
Celeste laughed. “There. Your perfect victim has secrets.”
“I never called her perfect.”
The sentence silenced the room.
Graham returned carrying bread, cheese, sliced apple, and a glass of water on a plain kitchen plate. He handed it to Mara.
She accepted it with both hands but did not eat.
Adrian sat opposite her.
“Do you have recordings?”
Mara looked toward Celeste.
“Yes.”
“On your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Did Harold know?”
“Some of them.”
May you like
“Which ones?”
“He asked me to record him trying to speak. He wanted proof he was improving.”
