Chapter 5 - DANIEL ASKED ME TO VISIT HIM, AND I FINALLY LEARNED WHY HE NEEDED THE HOUSE SOLD SO BADLY
I refused the first request.
And the second.
The third came through his attorney.
Daniel wanted to discuss settlement.
Natalie advised against going alone.
So I didn't.
We met in a secure attorney conference room.
Daniel entered wearing county-issued clothing.
For one second, I barely recognized him.
No suit.
No watch.
No polished shoes.
Just Daniel.
He sat opposite me.
His eyes moved toward my ribs.
I was still wearing a support wrap.
“How are you?”
I stared.
He looked down.
“Right.”
Silence.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
I had imagined hearing that.
It meant nothing.
“Why did you need the house?”
His face tightened.
“Company debt.”
“Wrong.”
“Claire—”
“Why?”
He sighed.
“There were margin calls.”
“How much?”
“Six million.”
“And?”
“Private loans.”
“How much?”
“Four.”
“And?”
He hesitated.
“Daniel.”
“Gambling.”
I stared.
“What?”
He looked away.
Not casinos.
Sports books.
Private betting.
High-limit offshore accounts.
He had lost nearly $3.2 million in eighteen months.
I couldn't speak.
“All those nights you said you were meeting investors?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“I had a problem.”
“You had my money.”
“I know.”
“You bought Vanessa jewelry while stealing from my company.”
“I know.”
“You were planning to leave me with debt.”
His eyes closed.
“I know.”
“Why?”
No answer.
“Why, Daniel?”
Finally:
“Because I couldn't let you know I failed.”
That almost made me laugh.
“You broke my ribs because you were embarrassed?”
“No.”
“You forged my name because you were embarrassed?”
“I panicked.”
“For eighteen months?”
He looked at me.
“I spent my entire marriage trying to be the man you thought I was.”
“No.”
My voice was quiet.
“You spent it trying to be the man you wanted strangers to think you were.”
He flinched.
Good.
Then I asked the question I had avoided.
“Did you ever love me?”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Then when did that stop?”
“It didn't.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't love.”
“I know that now.”
“No. You know you're in jail now.”
Silence.
He cried.
I didn't.
I stood.
“Claire.”
I stopped.
“I never meant to hit you that hard.”
I turned slowly.
Not that hard.
There it was.
Even his apology contained a permitted amount of violence.
“How hard did you mean to hit me?”
His face collapsed.
He had no answer.
I left.
Outside, Natalie waited.
“Well?”
“I’m divorcing him.”
She blinked.
“I assumed.”
“No.”
I breathed carefully.
May you like
“I mean emotionally too.”
And for the first time since the kitchen, I felt something loosen inside my chest that had nothing to do with broken bones.
