Chapter 8 - The House I Never Lived In
The private house sat on a quiet street in Westchester.
White siding.
Black shutters.
A new stone walkway.
In the listing photographs, there was a room painted pale green with a rocking chair beside the window.
I recognized the chair.
Everett had told me he donated it after our loss.
“I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt every time you passed it,” he had said.
I had thanked him.
Now the chair sat in Vanessa’s nursery.
I closed the laptop.
Emma sat across from me at the kitchen table.
“Do you want me to break something?”
“No.”
“Something inexpensive?”
Despite everything, I smiled.
Then it disappeared.
Company payments had covered renovations through a contractor who also worked on Harbor Point.
The house belonged to an entity controlled by Everett.
Whether every payment was improper would take investigation.
The chair required none.
He had taken something I once sat in while imagining our child and given it to another woman.
That afternoon, Vanessa called.
I let it ring.
She called again.
Then came a message.
I need to explain something before tomorrow.
I sent the message to Ruth.
Her response came immediately.
Don’t meet alone.
We arranged a meeting in Ruth’s conference room.
Vanessa arrived without jewelry.
She looked younger in daylight.
I hated that my first instinct was to offer her water.
She placed her purse on the table.
“I didn’t know you were involved in the company.”
“That’s what you came to explain?”
“No.”
“You were comfortable humiliating me when you thought I had no power.”
Her eyes filled.
“I thought you knew about us.”
I leaned back.
“Did you also think I volunteered for the wine?”
She looked down.
“Diane said you would make a scene. She said people needed to understand why Everett was leaving.”
“And you believed her.”
“Yes.”
“Because it was convenient.”
Vanessa said nothing.
Ruth remained beside me, taking notes.
“The consulting company,” she said. “What work did you perform?”
“Introductions. Events. Some branding.”
“For eight hundred and forty thousand dollars?”
Vanessa went pale.
“That’s not what I received.”
“How much did you receive?”
“About ninety.”
The room went still.
Vanessa looked between us.
“Why?”
Ruth put down her pen.
“Do you have access to the company’s accounts?”
“Everett set everything up.”
“Who controls them now?”
She gripped the strap of her purse.
“I thought I did.”
Then her phone lit up.
Everett’s name filled the screen.
May you like
The message preview was short.
Don’t make me remind you who owns that house.
