Chapter 6 - JULIAN OFFERED ME VIVIENNE’S CONFESSION IN EXCHANGE FOR MY SILENCE ABOUT HIS PART IN THE TAKEOVER
Julian Laurent lasted twelve days in detention before he asked for a deal.
Not with prosecutors.
With me.
Rebecca nearly threw the request in garbage.
“He wants private meeting.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you are a witness, victim, corporate control person, and he is charged in a conspiracy against you.”
“I want to hear.”
“No.”
“Rebecca.”
“Absolutely not.”
Detective Ortiz eventually arranged something lawful.
Julian could make a proffer through attorneys.
No private bargain.
No promises from me.
No “family justice.”
Good.
His attorney delivered:
Julian possessed a recording of Vivienne discussing Sofia’s death.
In exchange, he wanted my companies not to pursue civil claims against his unrelated family assets.
Rebecca laughed.
“Absolutely not.”
Julian adjusted.
Then prosecutors entered.
If recording was real, cooperation could affect charging.
Not civil restitution controlled by victims.
He agreed.
The audio was from four days after Sofia died.
Vivienne and Julian in a Manhattan apartment.
Julian:
“You took her ring?”
Vivienne:
“She grabbed my hand.”
Julian:
“That is insane.”
Vivienne:
“I didn’t have time.”
Julian:
“Then destroy it.”
Vivienne:
“No.”
Long pause.
Julian:
“Why?”
Vivienne laughed softly.
“Because she thought she could ruin everything.”
My skin crawled.
Julian:
“You killed her over invoices.”
Vivienne:
“Crane killed her.”
Julian:
“You brought him there.”
Vivienne:
“She would have gone to Damian.”
Julian:
“So fire her.”
Vivienne:
“She had copies.”
Then the sentence.
“Damian believes dead people. He just doesn’t investigate them.”
I closed eyes.
She knew me.
Too well.
She knew I would mourn.
Pay.
Move forward.
She weaponized my distance.
Julian asked:
“Did the child see?”
Vivienne:
“She’s three.”
Again.
As if age erased sight.
The recording helped murder case significantly.
It also buried Julian.
He knew four days after Sofia’s death and did nothing.
Worse, he continued takeover plan.
He did not order murder according to available evidence, but he concealed it and benefited.
Prosecutors offered plea:
Conspiracy to commit financial fraud.
Obstruction.
Accessory after fact.
He would testify against Vivienne.
Likely eight to twelve years depending sentence.
His lawyers pushed.
He accepted eventually.
But before that, Julian revealed why Vivienne had worn the ring at engagement dinner.
I almost wished I had not asked.
“She was testing you.”
“What?”
Julian looked through counsel video.
“She believed if you recognized it, you knew more than she thought.”
My stomach turned.
“So she wore evidence on purpose?”
“She said Sofia’s ring looked ordinary.”
Another.
“She wanted to see whether you reacted.”
“Why?”
“Because if you did, she was going to postpone wedding and leave.”
Calculated.
Risk as diagnostic.
“And if I didn’t?”
“She knew Sofia had never spoken to you about it.”
I remembered touching Vivienne’s hand in foyer.
“New piece?”
“Vintage.”
She had been watching my face.
I gave nothing.
Because I had seen Sofia’s ring dozens of times without truly seeing.
Rosie noticed instantly.
Julian continued:
“She kept trophies.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Not murder trophies.”
His lawyer shifted.
“Careful.”
Julian ignored.
“She liked things from people she beat.”
A rival woman’s bracelet after winning foundation chair.
A signed pen from executive she forced out.
Sofia’s ring.
Not because she loved it.
Because it meant control.
That detail became less important legally than emotionally.
I stopped asking why cruel people choose symbols.
Sometimes answer is simply because they can.
Meanwhile, Rosie’s placement process continued.
Nora and her husband James Carter underwent emergency background review.
Clean.
Stable.
They had two daughters, eight and eleven.
Rosie visited their rented local apartment with caseworker.
First visit lasted two hours.
Second, half a day.
Third, overnight.
She returned to Grace excited because Nora had a dog named Pickles.
I felt irrational betrayal by dog.
“Pickles?”
Grace laughed.
“You’re jealous.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I have koi.”
“Children cannot cuddle koi.”
Unfair.
Rosie eventually asked me:
“Can Senator come Vermont?”
“No.”
She looked devastated.
“The pond is here.”
“Can you mail?”
“Fish?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She sighed.
Then:
“I visit?”
“Yes.”
“If grown-ups agree.”
She nodded.
I had learned phrase.
Then one afternoon Nora asked to speak privately.
We sat in estate library, now cleared of engagement furniture.
“I want Rosie with us.”
“I know.”
“But I don’t want to cut you off.”
I looked.
“Why?”
“She talks about you.”
“What does she say?”
“You have scary eyebrows.”
I sighed.
“And you let her feed fish.”
“Apparently central.”
“She also says you listened when nobody believed her.”
That hurt.
“I believed after seeing ring.”
“She thinks you believed first.”
Children edit kindness.
Nora continued:
“Sofia’s letter named me.”
“Yes.”
“I carry guilt.”
“Why?”
“We stopped speaking over nothing.”
“What?”
“Ethan.”
Nora’s eyes filled.
“I told her marrying a soldier would leave her alone.”
Another.
“Then he died.”
Another.
“She thought I was saying I told you so.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“But you didn’t repair.”
“No.”
Now Sofia was gone.
No chance.
Nora whispered:
“I can’t fix that by taking Rosie.”
“No.”
“Or by giving her to you.”
“No.”
“We just do next right thing.”
I almost smiled.
“Rebecca says that.”
“I already like her.”
Terrible.
Rosie moved to Vermont three weeks later under kinship foster placement pending permanent guardianship.
I went to airport? Nora drove? Better car with caseworker.
Before she left, Rosie came to study.
She carried Bunny and small backpack.
I crouched.
“Be good.”
She frowned.
“That’s boring.”
Fair.
“Be yourself.”
“Mom says—”
She stopped.
Mom.
For second I thought Elena? No.
Then her face changed.
“My mommy said be kind.”
“Yes.”
“Can I call?”
“Yes.”
“Video?”
“Yes.”
“Show Senator?”
“Yes.”
She hugged me.
Sudden.
Tiny arms around neck.
I froze.
Then held gently.
“Bye, Mr. Damian.”
“Bye, Rosie.”
She pulled away.
Then:
“You’re not alone.”
My throat closed.
“What?”
“Mommy said people get sad in big houses.”
I stared.
“When did she say?”
Rosie shrugged.
“Before.”
Then ran to Nora.
I stood in foyer while the car left.
The estate had never felt larger.
Vivienne had tried to marry me because she wanted my vote.
Sofia had died because she tried to stop her.
Rosie had saved the investigation by recognizing a ring.
And now the right thing was letting her go somewhere with a dog named Pickles.
May you like
I hated it.
Which was how I knew it was probably love beginning to become something less selfish.
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