Chapter 5 - WHAT HE THOUGHT I OWED HIM
Adrien came to Naomi’s office that afternoon.
She had agreed to a meeting only if I wanted one.
I wanted to hear him explain it without Martha to dismiss, a doorway to block, or a bed waiting upstairs.
He sat across from me.
No flowers.
No gift.
Just a leather folder and the confidence that had once made me feel safe.
“Clare should not have gone to your friend’s apartment.”
“How did she get the address?”
“I told her where you were staying.”
“You had no right.”
“I was worried about you.”
“So you sent the woman wearing my necklace.”
He exhaled.
“The necklace was never yours.”
Naomi looked at him.
“Let’s discuss Mercer House.”
Adrien turned toward her with visible relief.
“The building is aging. The sale would give Willa liquidity.”
“Why was the deposit directed to an account she doesn’t recognize?”
“It’s an administrative account.”
“Whose?”
“My office can provide details.”
“Provide them now.”
He opened his folder.
Naomi didn’t touch it.
“Did your wife receive the full sale agreement before signing?”
“She knew we were reviewing options.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Adrien looked at me.
“You wanted that building off your shoulders.”
“I wanted help replacing the elevators.”
“You said you were tired.”
“Of getting repair calls at midnight. I didn’t say sell it to Clare.”
Something moved across his face.
Impatience.
Then calculation.
“Bennett Urban is connected to a larger development. The whole block needs coordinated ownership.”
“My grandmother’s tenants live there.”
“They’d be compensated.”
“For losing their homes?”
“For relocation.”
I thought of Mrs. Ortiz on the third floor, who had cared for my grandmother during chemotherapy.
Mr. Levin, whose wife’s ashes sat beside the window overlooking the courtyard.
The bakery downstairs.
The sewing shop.
Lives Adrien had reduced to a line in a spreadsheet.
“Did you promise Clare my building?”
His silence answered first.
Then he said, “I told her I could get the transaction done.”
Naomi closed her notebook.
“This meeting is over.”
Adrien ignored her.
“I helped cover your father’s treatment.”
My breath caught.
There it was.
A bill I hadn’t known he was keeping.
“You offered.”
“And I don’t regret it.”
“Then why are you mentioning it?”
He stood.
“Because sometimes you forget what I’ve done for you.”
After he left, I stared at the door.
My phone vibrated.
The unknown sender had finally given me a name.
I’M ELIZA WARD.
May you like
I WORKED FOR ADRIEN.
HE HASN’T TOLD YOU WHY CLARE NEEDED THAT SALE TO CLOSE.
