Chapter 9 - Forty-Three Names
The next morning, I asked Nina to bring the payroll list.
Not salary totals.
Names.
We spread the pages across my kitchen table.
Luis Ortega.
Elaine Brooks.
Forty-one more people whose rent and groceries Adrian had turned into an argument against me.
“An independent manager would need access to the accounts,” Rachel said.
“The investors can seek intervention. The lender and buyer also need to know the sale figures are disputed.”
“Then tell them,” I said.
“Use the documents. No threats.”
Dad’s fund filed for emergency oversight under its investment agreement.
Rachel notified the buyer’s attorney of my separate property dispute and the questionable distribution.
The buyer paused Friday’s closing pending review.
Adrian called twelve times.
On the thirteenth, he left a voicemail.
“You have no idea what you’ve done.”
I played it once, saved it, and went back to the table.
Dad arranged a proposed payroll bridge through an independent administrator, subject to approval and verified accounts.
No funds would pass through Adrian.
It wasn’t charity.
It was a way to keep the company operating while the books were examined.
“I want one more condition,” I said.
Dad looked up.
“Nina gets considered for her job based on her work. Not punished for telling the truth.”
“I can request that,” he said.
“The administrator has to make the decision.”
I appreciated the distinction.
I was tired of men promising control over everything.
That afternoon, Adrian came to the gate.
I watched him on the intercom screen.
His tie was loose, his face flushed.
“Open it, Liv.”
“No.”
“I need to see you.”
“You can speak to Rachel.”
His voice softened.
“Remember the apartment? Before all this? We were happy.”
I remembered carrying takeout up four flights of stairs.
I remembered him kissing paint off my cheek.
I had loved that man.
Admitting it hurt more than calling him a liar.
“We were,” I said.
“Then don’t do this.”
“You brought Camille into our home.”
“That was a mistake.”
“So was the mortgage?”
He looked directly into the camera.
“You signed enough things without reading them. How will you prove this wasn’t one of them?”
May you like
Behind me, Rachel’s voice was very quiet.
“The intercom saves these recordings, doesn’t it?”
