Chapter 8: What Diana's Attorney Proposed
The meeting was held in Whitfield's conference room at two in the afternoon.
Diana arrived with a man named Gerald Foss — silver-haired, expensive suit, the kind of attorney who specialized in making unreasonable positions sound like reasonable ones.
Diana sat beside him in a cream blazer, her hands folded on the table, her expression composed.
She looked, Richard thought, exactly like herself.
Foss opened a leather folder.
"Thank you for making time on short notice.
My client would like to propose a resolution that avoids prolonged litigation, in the interest of the children."
"Children," Whitfield said.
"Mrs.
Sterling's unborn son.
And Sophie." Foss glanced at Richard.
"My client has significant concerns about the impact of a public legal dispute on both children's wellbeing."
"Your client booked a one-way flight for a six-year-old," Whitfield said.
"Her concern for Sophie's wellbeing is noted."
Foss didn't blink.
"The flight was a boarding school inquiry.
A misunderstanding that escalated."
"What is your client proposing?" Richard asked.
Foss turned a page.
"Mrs.
Sterling is prepared to cooperate fully with the financial review in exchange for a structured settlement — primary residence, a monthly support figure, and a clean separation of assets based on the current prenuptial agreement."
"And Marcus Hale?" Whitfield asked.
"My client's interactions with Mr.
Hale were personal in nature and do not constitute—"
"One point three million dollars," Whitfield said.
"Nineteen months.
Fourteen transfers.
Would you like the account numbers?"
Foss looked at his folder.
He turned another page.
He was good — he didn't show anything — but he turned that page too slowly.
"My client was not the architect of those transactions," he said.
"Who was?" Richard asked.
Diana spoke for the first time.
"Marcus handled the structure.
I told him what I needed and he arranged it."
"Diana," Foss said quietly.
"It doesn't matter," she said.
"He already knows." She looked at Richard.
"I want to talk about Sophie."
"So do I," Richard said.
"She can stay," Diana said.
"I'm not asking you to send her away.
I never wanted—" She stopped.
Restarted.
"The ticket was a contingency.
In case things went the way they're going now.
I needed to know she wouldn't be used against me."
"She's six," Richard said.
"She's your weapon.
She has been since the day I moved in.
Every time I tried to build something with you, Sophie was the reason it couldn't happen.
Your schedule.
Your attention.
Your guilt." Her voice stayed flat.
"I'm not saying she deserved what happened.
I'm saying I was drowning and no one noticed."
The room was quiet.
Richard looked at her for a long moment.
"I believe you were struggling," he said.
"I believe I was absent.
I believe I missed things I should have seen." He paused.
"And none of that changes what Sophie went through.
None of it changes the accounts.
None of it changes the call with Marcus at ten o'clock last night."
Diana looked down at the table.
"What does your client want regarding Sophie?" Whitfield asked Foss.
"Minimal contact during the separation period.
For the sake of stability."
"Minimal contact meaning none," Richard said.
Foss hesitated.
"A transitional arrangement."
"No," Richard said.
It was the first time he had used the word simply, without explanation.
Just the word.
It landed in the room and stayed there.
Diana looked up.
"Sophie stays with me," Richard said.
"Full custody, pending the court's review.
Your client will have supervised contact with her own child — our son — when he arrives, under whatever terms the court determines are appropriate given the financial investigation." He looked at Foss.
"That is not a negotiating position.
That is what is going to happen."
Foss looked at Diana.
Diana looked at Richard.
"You really won't give an inch," she said.
"Sophie went hungry for a day and a half," Richard said.
"No."
Diana picked up her handbag.
She stood slowly, one hand on the table.
"I did love you," she said.
"In the beginning.
I want you to know that."
Richard said nothing.
She walked to the door.
Foss gathered his folder and followed.
At the doorway, Diana stopped.
She didn't turn around.
"Tell Sophie—" She stopped.
"Never mind."
She left.
Whitfield waited until the elevator doors closed before he spoke.
"She'll fight harder when the financial charges land," he said.
"This was a feeling-out exercise."
"I know."
"Are you ready for that?"
Richard looked at the empty chair across the table.
"I've been ready since I found my daughter on that floor," he said.
His phone buzzed.
A message from his housekeeper — he had hired a new one that morning, through an agency Whitfield recommended.
*Sophie ate all her breakfast.
She asked if you were coming home for dinner.*
Richard typed back: *Tell her yes.
Tell her I'll be home by six.*
May you like
He put his phone in his pocket and looked at Whitfield.
"What's next?" he said.
