Chapter 7 - NATHAN ASKED TO SEE ME ONE LAST TIME
Nathan requested the meeting through his attorney.
I said no.
He requested again.
No.
Then Margaret called.
“He says he has information about Bell.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Nathan had always known how to make himself relevant.
“What information?”
“He won’t disclose through counsel.”
“No.”
“Olivia.”
“No.”
“Lucas agrees with you.”
“That is deeply concerning.”
Margaret ignored me.
“But federal investigators may want to interview him.”
“Let them.”
“They will.”
“Good.”
“He says he’ll only cooperate fully if he sees you.”
I laughed.
“Then he can enjoy silence.”
Margaret waited.
There was more.
“What?”
“He says he wants to give up future attempts to contact Charlotte.”
I froze.
“In exchange for seeing me?”
“Yes.”
“That is disgusting.”
“Yes.”
“Can he legally bargain that?”
“No.”
“Then why are we discussing it?”
“Because emotionally, it got your attention.”
I hated her.
Correctly.
Three days later, I agreed.
Not because Nathan deserved it.
Because I wanted the outcome.
Again.
The meeting took place inside a federal correctional facility with lawyers present.
Glass.
No touching.
No privacy.
Lucas waited outside.
Nathan entered wearing khaki prison clothes.
He had aged.
More gray.
Thinner.
The sight no longer shocked me.
That surprised me.
He sat.
Picked up the phone.
I did the same.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Nathan smiled sadly.
“You look good.”
I almost laughed.
“Start over.”
His smile disappeared.
“Okay.”
He looked down.
“I heard Charlotte met Eli.”
My body tightened.
“How?”
“Rachel wrote me.”
I would deal with that later.
“She sent one letter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To tell me to stop asking about the children.”
Good.
Nathan continued—
“I’m glad they met.”
“You don’t get credit.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked at me.
“I’m trying.”
I said nothing.
He swallowed.
“Tom Bell knew about the trust.”
“I know.”
“He knew I wanted influence.”
“I know.”
“He did not know I was going to kill you.”
There.
Direct.
I studied him.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because if I wanted to hurt him, I’d say he did.”
Fair.
Nathan looked down.
“Tom thought you would eventually hand operating control to professional management.”
“I did.”
“He wanted board control.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought your grandmother made a mistake giving you voting power.”
My jaw tightened.
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Many times.”
“Did he promise to help you after I died?”
Nathan’s face changed.
“Not exactly.”
“Words.”
“He said if something happened to you, the board would need stability.”
My stomach turned.
“He told me I could present myself as temporary family steward for Charlie.”
There it was.
“What did he get?”
“Nothing directly.”
“Then why?”
Nathan laughed bitterly.
“Power.”
Of course.
“He wanted the company run by people like him.”
“Men.”
Nathan looked away.
“Yes.”
I almost smiled.
Truth from a murderer can still be truth.
“Did he know about Rachel?”
“No.”
“Dr. Cole?”
“No.”
“Your plan?”
“No.”
Nathan looked directly at me.
“That part was mine.”
The sentence changed something.
Not forgiveness.
Clarity.
For years, I wondered whether there were more conspirators.
More hidden hands.
Maybe Thomas was corrupt.
Self-serving.
Misogynistic.
Disloyal.
But not every ugly thing belonged inside the murder.
That distinction mattered.
“What evidence?”
Nathan explained meetings.
Emails.
Consulting references.
A private memo Thomas had given him describing governance after a hypothetical death or incapacity.
Hypothetical.
The word made me sick.
“Where?”
“Old cloud account.”
“Credentials?”
He gave them to investigators afterward.
Then he looked at me.
“Olivia.”
“What?”
“I want to ask something.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what.”
“No.”
His mouth tightened.
Old Nathan flashed through.
The man irritated by boundaries.
Then it disappeared.
“Fine.”
He inhaled.
“I’m going to ask anyway.”
I waited.
“Tell Charlotte I’m sorry.”
My entire body went cold.
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“Please.”
“No.”
“She deserves—”
“She deserves not to carry your apology.”
Nathan flinched.
“You don’t get to hand a five-year-old the emotional work of deciding whether her father is sorry enough.”
He began crying.
I felt nothing.
Then corrected myself.
Not nothing.
Grief.
For Charlie.
For Eli.
For the man Nathan could have been.
“I write her letters.”
“I know.”
“You don’t give them to her.”
“No.”
“Will you someday?”
“Maybe.”
His eyes lifted.
“That’s not no.”
“Don’t make hope out of my uncertainty.”
He looked down.
I continued—
“Her therapist and I will decide what is appropriate.”
“When she’s older, she decides.”
“Not you.”
Nathan nodded.
Tears fell.
“What about Eli?”
“Rachel decides.”
He smiled sadly.
“She hates me.”
“She should.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Then Nathan whispered—
“Was I ever a good husband?”
The question stunned me.
I almost refused.
Then answered honestly.
“Sometimes.”
His face broke.
“I remember the nursery.”
I said.
“You painted the wall badly.”
“You made pancakes.”
“You held me after Grandma died.”
“You sat beside me through the second-trimester bleed.”
Tears filled my eyes unexpectedly.
“Those things happened.”
Nathan cried.
“So did the rest.”
His expression collapsed.
I continued—
“I’m not going to rewrite seven years as pure evil because that would be another lie.”
He stared.
“But the good does not cancel the choice you made.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He looked older than forty-three.
“I loved you.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t enough.”
“No.”
I stood.
Nathan panicked slightly.
“Olivia.”
I picked up the phone one final time.
“What?”
“Are you happy?”
I stared.
Not his business.
Still—
“Yes.”
His face twisted.
Pain.
Relief.
Maybe both.
“Good.”
I put down the phone.
Then walked away.
Nathan gave investigators the credentials.
The cloud account contained the memo.
Thomas Bell had indeed drafted a governance contingency during my pregnancy.
No murder language.
No bribery.
But undisclosed conflicts.
Improper consulting relationships.
Attempts to steer board control.
Enough for civil action.
Enough for termination.
Enough for regulators to examine fiduciary conduct.
Not enough for prison.
That disappointed Lucas.
I reminded him prison was not the only consequence that mattered.
Thomas resigned before termination.
The board refused his severance package.
His professional reputation collapsed.
Several directors apologized to me.
I accepted some.
Not all.
Then we implemented the reforms Denise and I had designed.
Independent board majority.
Employee director.
No automatic spousal or custodial voting.
A stewardship trust limiting concentrated future control.
Charlotte remained financially protected.
But she would never wake at eighteen and discover an entire company sitting on her shoulders because adults believed inheritance was destiny.
I signed the final restructuring documents.
Then laughed.
Margaret looked up.
“What?”
“Nathan tried to kill me for control.”
“Yes.”
“Thomas betrayed me for control.”
“Yes.”
“And I just voluntarily reduced mine.”
She smiled.
“That may be the most expensive act of spite I’ve ever witnessed.”
“No.”
I looked through the window toward Boston Harbor.
“It’s not spite.”
May you like
For the first time, I understood.
It was freedom.
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