Chapter 16
But now I was private.
A reporter shouted, “Did your ex-wife provide documents to investors?”
Damian looked directly toward the cameras.
For one second, I felt as if he were looking at me.
“Divorce can be emotional,” he said.
My face burned.
He continued.
“Sometimes people act out when they feel hurt.”
Mara muted the television.
“No.”
I stood.
“No.”
She watched me.
“He is making me sound unstable.”
“Yes.”
“He is turning the financing issue into revenge.”
“Yes.”
“I want to answer.”
“No.”
“I want to tell them exactly—”
“No.”
My hands shook.
Mara waited until I looked at her.
“If you answer emotionally, he gets the story he just wrote for you.”
I hated that she was right.
“So I do nothing?”
“You let documents speak.”
“I am tired of silence.”
“Then use silence differently.”
I stared at her.
“Silence used to be something he imposed on you.”
Her voice softened.
“Now make it something he cannot control.”
That afternoon, the independent title reviewers found the same contradiction.
The review did not accuse anyone of fraud.
It did not declare the project invalid.
It did something more dangerous to Damian.
It refused to confirm that the financing structure was clean.
The next funding release stayed frozen.
Then a second investor requested additional documentation.
Then a third.
At 5:18 p.m., Jonathan Reed resigned as chief financial officer.
His resignation letter was three paragraphs long.
He cited disagreement over governance and financial disclosures.
Nothing more.
But the timing was enough.
Damian called me seven minutes later.
I answered.
“You happy?”
His voice was ragged.
I almost did not recognize it.
“No.”
“Jonathan resigned.”
“I heard.”
“Thirty years at the company.”
“I know.”
“You did this.”
“No.”
“You sent the documents.”
“Yes.”
His silence sharpened.
It was the first time I had admitted it directly to him.
“You destroyed trust.”
“No.”
I walked toward the window.
“I showed people something that made them ask whether trust already deserved to be destroyed.”
“Do not talk like a lawyer.”
“I’m not.”
“Then talk like my wife.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m not that either.”
His breath caught.
For once, I knew I had hurt him.
I expected satisfaction.
I felt grief instead.
There had been a time when I knew exactly how his face looked when he slept.
There had been mornings when he brought coffee to bed.
There had been nights when we laughed until I could not breathe.