Chapter 6 - The Honeymoon Dinner
At seven that evening, I walked into the resort restaurant wearing the dress I had originally packed for the first night of my honeymoon.
The irony was deliberate.
So was everything else.
Mercer had wanted me hidden until the trustee vote could be challenged.
I disagreed.
Alexander already knew too much.
He knew Ellis was involved.
He knew I had missed the flight intentionally.
He knew the brownstone had been searched.
If I disappeared completely, he would assume the worst.
So I gave him something easier to understand.
A jealous wife.
At 6:11 p.m., I texted him.
I’M IN MAUI.
He called within four seconds.
I didn’t answer.
I texted again.
WE NEED TO TALK.
He sent twenty messages.
I ignored every one.
Then I entered the restaurant at seven.
Alexander was waiting.
Khloe wasn’t.
He stood from the table.
For the first time since I had known him, Alexander looked genuinely unsettled.
“Sophia.”
“Surprised?”
“I’ve been calling you.”
“I noticed.”
“Where have you been?”
“Thinking.”
He pulled out my chair.
I didn’t sit.
“Where is Khloe?”
His expression tightened.
“I don’t know.”
“You traveled here with her.”
“She left the hotel.”
“Without her passport?”
His eyes changed.
Only for half a second.
But I saw it.
“You went into her room?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know that?”
Mistake.
I smiled.
“Because she told me.”
Alexander became very still.
“When?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Khloe has been behaving erratically.”
There it was.
Same word family.
Unstable.
Anxious.
Erratic.
Paper weapons.
“She seemed perfectly calm at JFK.”
“She wasn’t.”
“You know her well?”
Alexander sat.
“Sophia.”
I remained standing.
“I asked a question.”
“She is my employee.”
“Is that all?”
He looked at me.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he exhaled.
“If you came here because you think I’m sleeping with Khloe…”
“You are.”
His face changed.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
“You have no evidence.”
I laughed.
That surprised him.
“Alexander.”
“What?”
“Do you understand how humiliating it is that you think I need evidence?”
He looked away.
I finally sat.
“Tell me the truth.”
“This isn’t the place.”
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“The place where you lie?”
His jaw tightened.
“Sophia, you are exhausted.”
“I slept beautifully on the flight.”
“You were anxious yesterday.”
“I recovered.”
“You canceled our honeymoon ticket.”
“Then bought another one.”
“You disappeared.”
“And yet here I am.”
Every sentence disrupted his narrative.
I could see him recalculating.
He reached for his wine.
His hand was steady.
Mine was steadier.
Mercer and two agents sat somewhere behind the decorative partition.
My necklace contained a microphone.
Daniel Cross was waiting upstairs.
Federal agents were monitoring Walter’s trustee notice.
And I was sitting across from the man who thought he had built my cage.
“Did you sleep with her?” I asked.
Alexander’s eyes hardened.
“Sophia.”
“Yes or no.”
He remained silent.
I nodded.
“That’s yes.”
“It was a mistake.”
Eight months was an impressive mistake.
“How many times?”
“Don’t do this.”
“How many?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
He lowered his voice.
“You are making a scene.”
I looked around.
Nobody was looking at us.
“No.”
“I’m making you uncomfortable.”
“You’re accustomed to confusing those things.”
His fingers tightened around the wineglass.
“I was under pressure.”
“Did pressure remove your pants?”
“Sophia.”
“I’m curious about the mechanics.”
He actually flushed.
That pleased me more than it should have.
“I ended it.”
“When?”
“Before the wedding.”
Lie.
Khloe had said otherwise.
“Then why bring her on our honeymoon?”
“Work.”
I smiled.
“What work?”
“The report.”
“Which report?”
“Quarterly restructuring.”
“Show me.”
“What?”
“You said the numbers were too sensitive for remote work.”
“So show me the report.”
He stared at me.
“I don’t have it here.”
“Khloe does?”
“I assume.”
“The same Khloe who vanished?”
His jaw shifted.
“You spoke to her.”
“I told you that.”
“What did she say?”
I leaned back.
“You first.”
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do with the truth right now.”
That sentence nearly made me laugh.
“Try me.”
Alexander rubbed his thumb over his wedding ring.
The nervous habit.
Then he leaned forward.
“Hale Strategic is in trouble.”
I pretended surprise.
“What kind?”
“Debt.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I was handling it.”
“With Khloe?”
“With my team.”
“Why Maui?”
He paused.
“There’s a restructuring attorney here.”
“Daniel Cross?”
Everything inside him stopped.
There it was.
The first real crack.
“How do you know Daniel?”
“My father knew him.”
“You never mentioned that.”
“You never asked.”
Alexander studied me.
“You talked to Rachel.”
“No.”
Lie.
He knew it was one.
I knew he knew.
But neither of us moved.
“What did Daniel tell you?”
“I haven’t spoken to Daniel.”
Technically false.
But delivered cleanly.
Alexander looked toward the dining room entrance.
He was nervous now.
Good.
“Why are you here, Sophia?”
“You booked the honeymoon.”
“No.”
“I mean why did you come after missing the first flight?”
I softened my expression.
“Because you’re my husband.”
The word almost choked me.
“Because I thought maybe I had overreacted.”
“Because I thought Khloe was the problem.”
His shoulders loosened slightly.
He wanted to believe that.
Men like Alexander often preferred emotional explanations to intelligent ones.
Emotion could be managed.
Knowledge could not.
“I’m sorry about Khloe.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love her?”
“No.”
That came too quickly.
“Does she love you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
He drank his wine.
“I made a mistake.”
“We had been fighting.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“I don’t remember fighting.”
“You were consumed with work.”
I nearly admired the rewrite.
He would turn my career into his excuse.
My competence into neglect.
My independence into betrayal.
“Why marry me?”
That question landed differently.
Alexander looked at me.
“What?”
“If you were sleeping with another woman, why marry me?”
“Because I love you.”
It was effortless.
Beautiful.
Convincing.
If I hadn’t seen forged signatures, I might have believed him.
“You love me.”
“Yes.”
“So cancel tomorrow’s meeting.”
His eyes changed.
“What meeting?”
“The business meeting.”
“I thought we could spend tomorrow together.”
“We can after.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“Cancel it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“It affects the company.”
“Then postpone it.”
“It’s time sensitive.”
“How time sensitive?”
He hesitated.
“Forty-eight hours.”
There it was.
A deadline.
“What happens in forty-eight hours?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
I smiled.
“That sentence should be engraved on your tombstone.”
He almost smiled too.
Then his phone vibrated.
He looked down.
A message.
I watched his face.
“Who is it?”
“Office.”
“Khloe?”
“No.”
“Curtis?”
His eyes snapped up.
I held my breath.
Wrong move.
Too specific.
“Who told you about Curtis?”
I shrugged.
“You’ve mentioned him.”
“I have never mentioned Curtis to you.”
Silence.
The restaurant seemed to disappear.
He placed his phone facedown.
“Who have you been talking to?”
I looked at him.
Then I did the only thing available.
I stood.
“You know what?”
“What?”
“I came here to find out if you loved her.”
“Sophia.”
“And now you’re interrogating me.”
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Sophia.”
“You cheated on me.”
“You brought your mistress on our honeymoon.”
“And somehow I’m the person explaining myself?”
A woman at another table looked over.
Perfect.
Alexander hated public attention.
He stood.
“Lower your voice.”
“No.”
“People are watching.”
“Good.”
“Stop.”
I picked up my handbag.
“Go to hell.”
Then I turned and walked out.
Every step felt like walking across a minefield.
I reached the elevator.
The doors closed.
Mercer stepped out of the service corridor beside me.
“That was reckless.”
“He gave us forty-eight hours.”
“We heard.”
“He also confirmed Curtis matters.”
“He almost caught you.”
“But he didn’t.”
Mercer didn’t look impressed.
Daniel was waiting upstairs.
He had news.
Thomas Reed had been found.
Alive.
In a private hospital in New Jersey.
Sedated.
Admitted under a false name.
My blood ran cold.
“What happened?”
“He collapsed at home.”
“Natural?”
“Unknown.”
“Who brought him to the hospital?”
“A private ambulance.”
“Who called it?”
Mercer looked at me.
“Someone using a phone registered to Hale Strategic.”
Alexander.
Or someone inside his company.
“Can Thomas speak?”
“Not yet.”
“Will he recover?”
“Doctors think so.”
Relief lasted only seconds.
Daniel opened the trustee notice.
“Thomas’s resignation was electronically signed while he was unconscious.”
Another forgery.
Walter had removed the only trustee who could block him.
“Can we stop the vote?”
“We can challenge it.”
“Can we stop it?”
“Not automatically.”
“What happens at eight?”
“Walter will attempt to appoint Alexander.”
“And you vote no.”
“Yes.”
“One to one.”
“Unless Walter invokes the vacancy provision.”
“What vacancy provision?”
Daniel looked sick.
“If a trustee becomes unavailable and the remaining trustees deadlock, the beneficiary can nominate a temporary trustee.”
“That’s me.”
“Yes.”
“Then I nominate someone.”
“You already did.”
My stomach dropped.
Daniel turned the page.
A nomination form bearing my signature.
TEMPORARY TRUSTEE NOMINEE: ALEXANDER HALE.
I stared at it.
“Forged.”
“Obviously.”
“Then challenge it.”
“We will.”
“But?”
Daniel looked at Mercer.
“The signatures were notarized.”
“By Laura Meyers.”
“Yes.”
The missing former employee.
I felt anger rising.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
One photograph.
Khloe.
Sitting inside a car.
Alive.
Terrified.
Holding today’s newspaper.
Below it was a message.
COME ALONE TO THE OLD SUGAR MILL AT MIDNIGHT.
BRING HAROLD BENNETT’S NOTE.
NO POLICE.
I looked at Mercer.
“How do they know about the note?”
Nobody answered.
Then a second message arrived.
THIS IS NOT ALEXANDER.
A third followed.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOUR FATHER REALLY FIRED WALTER GREER, COME ALONE.
And then the final line.
ASK DANIEL CROSS WHAT HAPPENED THE NIGHT YOUR FATHER DIED.
May you like
I slowly looked up.
Daniel Cross had gone completely pale.
