Chapter 15 - The Day Everything Fell Apart
By morning Grant had been temporarily detained for questioning in connection with the complaint and then released pending further review.
His lawyer warned him not to contact certain witnesses until the matter was resolved.
He was not convicted of anything, but the accusation damaged his reputation and deprived us of his work at the worst possible moment.
Richard's representatives distributed a statement suggesting our investigation depended on improperly obtained evidence.
The statement did not distinguish disputed medical materials from bank records, corporate filings, and testimony obtained through lawful channels.
That distinction mattered.
On social media, however, the distinction nearly disappeared.
Messages arrived by the hundreds.
Some defended me.
Others called me a bitter wife who should let Natalie raise her baby in peace.
I stopped reading.
At the foundation, two major donors suspended pledges pending an independent review.
We had enough cash to honor existing commitments for several months, but not enough certainty to promise new grants.
I told Leah we would pause new approvals while protecting clients already enrolled.
It was one of the hardest decisions I had ever made.
I had founded the organization to give people a steady path forward.
Now I had to tell applicants that our own stability had been attacked.
That afternoon Eric visited with a proposed divorce agreement.
He offered to accept blame for the affair if I signed a mutual release covering financial claims arising before our separation.
The agreement included a nondisparagement clause broad enough to interfere with statements about the disputed transactions.
I read every page while he waited.
"You used to trust me," he said.
"I used to have evidence that made trust reasonable."
He leaned forward.
"If you don't sign, Richard will drag this out for years."
"And if I do, he gets to keep the money?"
Eric said nothing.
That was answer enough.
I handed the papers back unsigned.
He looked at me with sudden anger.
"You've always needed to be the hero."
"No. I needed a partner who wasn't stealing from the people I promised to help."
When he left, I locked my office door and cried for the first time since the anniversary party.
Not because I missed him.
Because the foundation's empty hallway was so quiet.
Because I remembered my mother teaching me how to braid Natalie's hair.
Because I understood that I might lose years of work even if I ultimately won the case.
At sunset, my father was taken to the hospital after collapsing at home.
The doctors said he was stable and undergoing evaluation.
Diane barred me from visiting, claiming I had caused his condition.
I went anyway and left a message for him with the nurse, asking him to take care of himself and speak only when ready.
I would not turn his illness into another battlefield.
At midnight, I returned to my hotel and discovered an envelope pushed beneath the door.
Inside was a photograph of the old foundation registration binder.
A yellow sticky note pointed to a page number and four words.
LOOK AT THE ORIGINAL DATE.
The note was signed only with the initials A.S.
May you like
Andrea Sloan.
