Chapter 4 - LAUREN CAME TO MY HOSPITAL ROOM
Lauren arrived at the hospital at 9:40 a.m. carrying white roses.
Security stopped her in the corridor.
I could hear the argument from inside my room.
She spoke softly enough to sound reasonable and loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear that she was there "as a friend."
My father stood so fast that the chair scraped across the floor.
"She is not coming in."
I surprised all of us.
"Let her."
"Clare."
"I want to hear what she says when Matthew is not beside her."
Henderson did not like it.
Detective Ortiz, who had returned to collect my phone data, liked it even less.
"If you choose to speak with her, do not provoke her."
"I do not need to."
I looked toward the door.
"She came here because she needs something."
Ortiz stepped out of view but remained within earshot.
Henderson did the same.
My father refused to move farther than the window.
Lauren entered wearing a cream coat over a pale blue dress.
Her hair was perfect.
Her makeup was nearly perfect.
Only the slight redness around her eyes suggested she had not slept.
She looked at my face.
Then she looked away too quickly.
"Oh, Clare."
I did not answer.
She placed the roses on the table beside my untouched breakfast.
"I am so sorry."
"For which part?"
Her lips tightened.
"For everything getting this far."
"That is not an answer."
She sat in the chair without being invited.
"Matthew is terrified."
My father let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
Lauren glanced at him.
"Mr. Sterling."
"Do not speak to me."
She turned back to me.
"Clare, I know what this looks like."
"It looks like my husband beat me and then took you to my company."
"His company."
The correction came too quickly.
There it was.
The first crack.
"Thank you."
I smiled despite the pain in my cheek.
"For what?"
"For saying what you came here to say."
Lauren's expression cooled.
"You were never involved in the way you think you were."
I stared at her.
"Excuse me?"
"You made introductions."
She crossed one leg over the other.
"You helped in the early days."
"I wrote the first capital model."
"Years ago."
"I negotiated the original distribution agreement."
"Matthew renegotiated it."
"Using my terms."
Her eyes flicked toward my father.
"This is exactly why he was worried."
"Worried about what?"
"That you could not let go."
I almost admired the audacity.
Lauren had slept with my husband, entered his headquarters after he assaulted me, accepted a promotion before sunrise, and now sat beside my hospital bed explaining that my real problem was attachment to my own work.
"Why are you here?"
She took a breath.
"Because this can still end quietly."
My father moved one step forward.
I raised a hand.
"Quietly how?"
"Matthew is prepared to make sure you are financially secure."
I laughed once.
"With my own money?"
"With a settlement."
"For what?"
"A separation."
The word landed with surgical precision.
Lauren reached into her handbag.
Henderson appeared in the doorway immediately.
She froze.
"It is only paper."
She slowly removed a white envelope and placed it on the table.
"Matthew asked me to bring this."
I looked at the envelope but did not touch it.
"He sent his mistress to serve separation papers in a hospital?"
"I am not his mistress."
"Then what are you?"
She held my gaze.
"His future."
My father swore under his breath.
Something in me went still.
The insult was so clean that it gave me clarity.
"Open it."
Lauren blinked.
"What?"
"You brought it."
I nodded toward the envelope.
"Read it."
"Clare, do not be childish."
"You came into my room after I was beaten and told me you are my husband's future."
My voice remained quiet.
"You do not get to use the word childish."
Lauren's face flushed.
She opened the envelope.
The proposed agreement offered me two million dollars, the Manhattan penthouse, and a confidentiality clause that barred me from discussing our marriage, Matthew's personal conduct, or any nonpublic NexusCore information.
In exchange, I would waive claims to Matthew's company stock, future appreciation, and any interest in intellectual property created during the marriage.
I held out my hand.
Lauren passed me the document.
My eyes stopped on one phrase.
Any interest in intellectual property created during the marriage.
That language was too broad for an ordinary separation agreement.
I looked at my father.
He saw it too.
"Who drafted this?"
Lauren hesitated.
"Counsel."
"Which counsel?"
"Matthew's."
"Name."
She frowned.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because this clause is not about divorce."
I tapped the paper.
"It is about ownership."
Lauren's fingers tightened around her handbag.
That tiny movement answered more than her words could.
"What did Matthew transfer?"
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Then why are you nervous?"
"I am not nervous."
"Your left hand only twists your ring when you lie."
She stopped moving.
I had noticed the habit months earlier at a charity dinner.
She looked toward the door.
"This was a mistake."
She stood.
"Sit down."
My voice came out sharper than I expected.
Lauren froze.
"What did he transfer?"
"Nothing."
"What is Northstar Advisory Partners?"
Color drained from her face.
My father watched her closely.
Lauren recovered quickly.
"I have never heard of it."
I nodded.
"Then you will not mind Detective Ortiz asking you the same question."
Ortiz stepped into the doorway.
Lauren stared at her.
"I am not speaking without counsel."
"You are free to leave."
Ortiz's tone remained neutral.
"But I would advise you not to destroy any devices or documents."
Lauren grabbed the roses from the table.
Then she seemed to realize how strange that looked and set them back down.
Her composure cracked for half a second.
"Matthew said you would do this."
"Do what?"
"Turn everyone against him."
I looked down at my bruised hands.
"He did that himself."
Lauren reached the door.
Then she turned back.
"You think your father can save you because he has money."
Her voice had lost its softness.
"But money cannot change what the board saw this morning."
"Neither can perfume."
She stared at me.
I continued.
"Marea on October third."
Her face changed.
"The Sag Harbor tax notice."
She said nothing.
"The blue baby sock under Matthew's passenger seat."
For the first time, fear flashed across her face.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
"What baby?"
I asked.
Lauren's entire body became rigid.
"There is no baby."
I had never said there was.
She had.
Then she walked out.
Ortiz followed her into the hall.
My father closed the door.
"Clare."
"I know."
My heart was pounding.
"She is hiding a child."
Henderson's phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
"We found Northstar's bank."
I looked at him.
"And?"
"The seven-hundred-eighty-thousand-dollar payment was not the only transfer."
He turned the phone toward us.
Over fourteen months, NexusCore had paid Northstar Advisory Partners 6.4 million dollars.
Two days earlier, Northstar wired 4.9 million dollars to an escrow account tied to a newly formed company in the Cayman Islands.
The beneficial ownership was sealed.
But the escrow instructions listed an emergency contact.
Lauren Thorne.
I stared at the name.
The affair was no longer the center of the story.
It was camouflage.
Matthew and Lauren were moving company money somewhere I could not see.
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And they were desperate enough to put separation papers beside my hospital bed before I could find out why.
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