Chapter 7: The Offer
She didn't answer immediately.
The silence on the line stretched for several seconds — long enough that she could hear the faint sound of traffic on his end, which meant he was calling from a car.
"How did you get this number?" she said.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"Diane called me last night.
She told me what happened at the party." His tone was measured.
Reasonable.
The voice of a man who had spent decades in boardrooms.
"I thought it would be better if we spoke without her involved."
Emily looked at Daniel.
He had already set his laptop aside and was listening.
"What do you want, Richard?"
"The same thing you do, I imagine.
To resolve this quietly."
"I'm not interested in quiet."
"I think you might be," he said, "once you've heard what I'm offering."
Emily said nothing.
She put the call on speaker and set the phone on the table between them.
"The letters your son found," Richard continued.
"Diane wrote those without my knowledge.
I want you to understand that."
"I don't believe you."
"That's your right.
But it's also the truth." A brief pause.
"What I'm prepared to offer is a formal financial settlement.
Significant.
Enough to make a genuine difference to your life and your son's future.
In exchange, the letters remain private, and we agree that any further — discussion — of events from thirty years ago stays between us."
Emily looked at the phone.
"You want me to take your money," she said, "and stay silent."
"I want both of us to move forward without unnecessary damage to people who weren't involved."
"People like who?"
"My staff.
My employees.
People who depend on the company for their livelihoods and have nothing to do with any of this."
"That's very thoughtful of you," Emily said.
"Using other people as a reason for me to protect you."
A beat of silence.
"Emily—"
"My father d*ed believing I had stolen from your family," she said.
"He spent the last years of his life trying to find me and being blocked at every turn.
He wrote me a letter he never sent because he thought I was gone.
I found that letter yesterday." She paused.
"There is no number that covers that."
"I understand you're angry—"
"I'm not angry," she said.
"I'm clear."
The line was quiet for a moment.
When Richard spoke again, the reasonableness had thinned slightly at the edges.
"I'd encourage you to think carefully before you do something that can't be undone.
A legal process is long, expensive, and public.
It will require you to speak about things that are — painful.
For both of us."
"For both of us," Emily repeated.
"I'm trying to protect you from a process that will be harder on you than you expect."
"No," Emily said.
"You're trying to protect yourself from a witness who's been waiting thirty years to make a statement."
The line went very quiet.
"We've already found Margaret Tilsley," Emily said.
"She remembers the boathouse."
The traffic sounds on his end disappeared.
He had stopped moving.
"I'll give you until tomorrow morning," Emily said.
"If you want to talk again after that, you can speak to my solicitor." She picked up the phone.
"Don't call this number again."
She ended the call.
Daniel let out a slow breath.
"He'll do something tonight," Emily said.
"He won't wait."
"What do you think he'll do?"
May you like
Emily was already reaching for Frances Okafor's number.
"I think he'll try to get to Margaret before we do."
