Chapter 4 - DIANE CAME TO THE HOTEL WITH CAMERAS
By noon, Diane had decided I was the villain.
I learned that from television.
Matthew's hotel suite had a living room with windows overlooking the city. I was wearing borrowed sweatpants and a T-shirt Caroline bought downstairs when Sarah turned on the news.
There was Diane.
Standing outside Blackwood Manor.
Perfect cream coat.
Perfect hair.
Bandage apparently covering the hand she had used to strike me.
Behind her were reporters.
My stomach turned.
"What is she doing?"
Matthew looked at the screen.
"Controlling the narrative."
Diane dabbed at her eyes.
"Our daughter has been struggling emotionally since her father's death."
I stared.
Our daughter.
She never called me that in private.
"Last night, Emily became distressed during a family gathering and disappeared."
A reporter asked about allegations that I had been locked in a room.
Diane's expression became wounded.
"Absolutely false."
I laughed.
Sarah was already recording.
Diane continued.
"Richard Ambrose is a dear family friend who was trying to calm her."
My hands shook.
"Turn it off."
Matthew didn't.
I looked at him.
"Turn it off."
He did immediately.
Good.
Caroline sat beside me.
"She's scared."
"I don't care."
"I know."
Sarah said, "You need to prepare for this to get uglier."
"How?"
"She may claim incapacity."
I frowned.
"What?"
"If she can argue you're mentally unstable, she may try to interfere with trust control."
"Can she?"
"Not easily."
"That's not no."
"No."
Sarah explained that Diane had no legal authority over the trust, but if she could trigger emergency guardianship proceedings—
I stood.
"She'll try."
Matthew nodded.
"Probably."
"Because she told people I was unstable last night."
"Yes."
The pattern was clear now.
Get me intoxicated.
Maybe drugged.
Create a public scene.
Force a marriage.
If I resisted?
Mental breakdown.
Diane had built exits for herself.
I thought about the untouched wineglass.
"Can they test it?"
Sarah looked at me.
"What?"
"The wine."
Matthew called James.
Police had secured parts of the mansion.
The bedroom had been photographed.
The glass collected.
Three hours later, Detective Maria Lopez came to the hotel.
She was mid-forties, direct, and had exactly zero interest in Diane's social position.
"We got preliminary information."
I sat.
"The wine contained zolpidem."
My blood went cold.
Sleeping medication.
"How much?"
"Enough to impair an adult."
I closed my eyes.
If I had drunk it—
No bathroom window.
No running.
No black car.
No choice.
"Ambrose's fingerprints?"
"On the bottle and glass."
My stomach turned.
"Diane?"
"On the bottle."
There it was.
The detective continued.
"We also found a key in Diane's evening bag matching the bedroom lock."
Silence.
"She said it locks automatically."
"It doesn't."
Good.
"Where is she?"
"With counsel."
"Arrested?"
"Not yet."
Anger flashed.
"Why?"
"Because investigations aren't television."
I looked away.
Lopez softened slightly.
"We are building something that survives lawyers."
Fair.
"What about Ambrose?"
"Private plane filed a flight plan but never departed."
"Where is he?"
"We don't know."
Matthew did not look surprised.
Lopez noticed.
"Mr. Carter."
"Detective."
"You know where he might be?"
"I know properties connected to him."
"Send me the list."
"I already did."
She almost smiled.
Then my hotel room phone rang.
Nobody knew the number.
James answered.
His face hardened.
"For you."
"Who?"
"Diane."
I stared.
Detective Lopez immediately said, "Speaker."
Matthew looked at me.
"Your choice."
I nodded.
James put it on speaker.
"Emily."
Her voice.
Smooth.
Controlled.
My entire body tightened.
"What?"
"Sweetheart, this has gone too far."
I laughed.
"I climbed out a bathroom window because you locked me in with a drugged drink."
"That's not what happened."
"Police tested it."
Silence.
Tiny.
But there.
Then Diane changed strategy.
"Richard made a terrible mistake."
I stared.
There it was.
Ambrose under the bus.
"What mistake?"
"I had no idea what he put in the wine."
Detective Lopez wrote something.
"I watched you touch the bottle."
"I poured a drink."
"And locked the door."
"For privacy."
"From the outside?"
Another silence.
"Emily, you're frightened."
"No."
That surprised even me.
I was afraid.
But not of her voice anymore.
"I'm angry."
"You don't understand the consequences."
"There she is."
"What?"
"The real Diane."
Matthew watched me carefully.
I continued.
"You called reporters before calling me."
"I've called you repeatedly."
"I don't have my phone because your men took it."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Police found it in their SUV."
Silence.
Longer.
Good.
Then Diane said quietly:
"Come home."
"No."
"We need to discuss your father's trust."
Everyone in the room became still.
She knew I knew.
"Why?"
"Because Robert made decisions that affect all of us."
"It doesn't sound like all of us."
"You don't understand those assets."
"Then I'll hire people who do."
Her voice sharpened.
"You think Matthew Carter is helping you for free?"
I looked at him.
He showed no reaction.
Diane continued.
"Do you know what he does to distressed companies?"
"No."
"He buys them."
"Better than trading women."
Her breath caught.
I had never spoken to her like that.
"Emily."
"No."
My voice steadied.
"You do not get to call me difficult, unstable, ungrateful, or childish anymore."
Silence.
"You hit me."
"Because you were hysterical."
"You locked me in a room."
"To stop you embarrassing yourself."
"With a man who had drugged my wine."
"I didn't know."
"Then tell the police."
She went quiet.
I leaned closer to the phone.
"And Diane?"
"What?"
"Dad said I'm not an asset."
The line went dead.
Caroline began crying.
I didn't.
Not until several seconds later.
Then my entire body started shaking.
Matthew moved forward.
Stopped.
"Can I?"
I nodded.
He put his arms around me.
Not possessive.
Not dramatic.
Just steady.
I hated how safe it felt.
I also needed it.
When I finally pulled away, Detective Lopez said:
"That call helped."
"How?"
"She admitted knowledge of the trust and locking you in the room."
"She'll say she meant something else."
"She can."
The detective smiled faintly.
"People are allowed to explain recordings. Juries are allowed to decide whether explanations are ridiculous."
I liked her.
Then Sarah received another alert.
"This is escalating."
"What?"
"Someone filed an emergency petition."
My stomach tightened.
"Guardianship?"
"Temporary protective guardianship."
I laughed.
Of course.
Diane claimed I had suffered an acute psychiatric episode, was being manipulated by Matthew, and was incapable of managing a nine-figure trust.
Matthew looked almost impressed.
"Efficient."
Sarah said, "There's a hearing tomorrow morning."
"That fast?"
"Emergency petition."
"What happens?"
"We show up."
"And if the judge believes her?"
Sarah looked at me.
"Then she may temporarily restrict certain trust actions."
"Can Diane become guardian?"
"She's asking."
"No."
My voice came out too loud.
"Emily—"
"No."
I stood.
"I would rather burn the trust than let her touch it."
Matthew looked at Sarah.
"Can the court appoint independent fiduciary protection instead?"
Sarah nodded.
"That's what we'll request if necessary."
I stared at them.
"You're talking like losing control temporarily is acceptable."
Sarah answered carefully.
"It's better than Diane obtaining it."
I hated that she was right.
Then James came in.
"There's another problem."
Matthew sighed.
"What?"
"Media downstairs."
"Diane?"
"No."
"Then?"
"Ambrose."
My blood froze.
"He's here?"
"Not physically."
James turned on the television.
Richard Ambrose appeared in a prerecorded video statement.
Gray hair.
Expensive library behind him.
Calm grandfatherly face.
The same man who had stood between me and the door.
He said:
"I categorically deny Ms. Hale's allegations."
My stomach turned.
Then:
"Emily and I have enjoyed a close relationship for years."
I felt sick.
He continued:
"Her father and I discussed her future extensively before his death."
Matthew's expression changed.
"What?"
Ambrose smiled sadly into the camera.
"Robert Hale intended for Emily and me to unite our families."
"No."
The word escaped me.
Ambrose continued:
"I possess correspondence documenting those conversations."
Sarah stood.
"That's impossible."
Then Ambrose held up a letter.
My father's signature appeared at the bottom.
I recognized it.
Or thought I did.
Richard, if Emily agrees, a marriage could secure Hale Crown and protect Mercer Atlantic...
I stopped breathing.
"No."
Caroline shook her head.
"Robert would never."
Ambrose looked directly into the camera.
"I believe Emily has been misled by people who stand to profit from turning her against her family."
Then he named Matthew.
"Mr. Carter has sought Hale Crown assets for years."
I turned.
Matthew went very still.
"Is that true?"
He didn't answer quickly enough.
My heart sank.
"Matthew."
"Yes."
The room disappeared around me.
Diane had tried to sell me.
Ambrose had tried to trap me.
And now the man who rescued me admitted he had wanted the assets too.
I stepped away.
"Emily."
"Don't."
"Let me explain."
"No."
I wrapped my arms around myself.
"Everyone keeps explaining after I find out."
That silenced him.
Sarah looked between us.
Matthew said:
"I made an acquisition proposal to Hale Crown eighteen months ago. Your trust rejected it."
"You knew about my trust before last night."
"Yes."
My chest hurt.
"You knew who I was when I got into your car."
"No."
"Don't lie."
"I didn't recognize you."
"How could you not?"
"I knew the beneficiary was Emily Hale. I had never seen you."
That could be true.
I hated that it could.
"When did you realize?"
"When you said Diane's name."
"And you didn't tell me."
"No."
There.
Another secret.
Another powerful man deciding when I was ready for information.
I looked toward the door.
"Emily."
Matthew didn't move closer.
"I should have told you immediately."
"Yes."
"I didn't because you were injured and being chased."
"Everyone has a reason."
"I know."
"Don't say that."
His jaw tightened.
"You're right."
I laughed bitterly.
"Stop agreeing with me."
For the first time, he almost smiled.
I didn't.
"Do you still want Hale Crown?"
Matthew looked at me directly.
"As an investment opportunity?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
My stomach dropped.
Then he added:
"But not if getting it requires hurting you."
"How convenient."
"No."
His voice sharpened for the first time.
"I can want an asset and still understand the person who owns it isn't one."
Silence.
That sounded like my father's letter.
Maybe Matthew knew it.
Maybe not.
I backed toward the bedroom.
"I need space."
"You have it."
No argument.
No following.
I shut the door.
Then I cried.
Not because Matthew wanted my company.
Because I had begun trusting him.
And apparently trust, in my life, always arrived with missing pages.
The next morning, I would stand in court while Diane tried to convince a judge I couldn't control my own life.
Richard Ambrose would produce letters supposedly written by my father.
Matthew Carter had admitted he wanted the assets at the center of everything.
May you like
And I finally understood the real battle wasn't going to be about millions of dollars.
It was going to be about whether anyone in that courtroom believed I had the right to make my own decisions.
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