Chapter 7
My stomach went cold.
Nathan continued.
“We marry, secure control, and deal with Theo privately. Once I have the votes, Olivia can’t block the Westbridge transaction.”
The recording ended.
Laya looked at me.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“Send it to outside counsel.”
“I want protection.”
“I can’t promise immunity.”
“My job references. And I don’t want the Vale family trying to take Miles.”
“I don’t control custody.”
“You control people who matter.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“That’s the mistake all of you made. You think because I can influence something, I own it.”
She looked away.
“I’ll tell counsel you approached voluntarily. I’ll support separating the corporate reimbursement issue from whatever happens with Miles. That’s all.”
“Why should I trust you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
She looked up.
“You should trust the fact that Nathan told you to be quiet at your own wedding, Theo told you to handle a pregnancy alone, and both men are currently using your son to protect themselves.”
Laya swallowed.
I continued.
“You don’t need me to be good. You need to decide whether you’re done helping them lie.”
For almost a minute, she sat without moving.
Then she forwarded the recording.
Ten minutes after she left, Nathan called.
“What did you promise her?”
“Nothing.”
“She’s unstable.”
“You married her.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
“You humiliated me in front of everyone.”
“You planned to fire me the next morning.”
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn everything into evidence.”
I closed my eyes.
“What would you prefer? Feelings?”
“Yes.”
His answer came so quickly that it stopped me.
“For nine years,” Nathan said, “everything was the company. There was always another trial, another financing round, another reason to delay the wedding.”
“We postponed it twice.”
“You were relieved both times.”
I didn’t answer.
Because he was right.
Not about the affair.
Not about the lies.
But about that.
Somewhere along the way, our engagement had become another item on a calendar.
“You should have left,” I said.
“I didn’t want to leave. I wanted you to need me.”
“And Laya did.”
Silence.
“She needed housing. Insurance. Protection. You confused being needed with being loved.”
Nathan’s voice became cold.
“And you confused being useful with being loved.”
That landed.
Because there was truth in it too.
Neither truth excused what he had done.
But pain did not become false merely because the person delivering it was guilty.
“The board meets Friday,” I said.