Chapter 4: The Call She Almost Didn't Answer
Natalie looked at the name on the screen for four full rings.
Then she answered.
"I know you probably don't want to hear from me." Sloan's voice was lower than Natalie remembered from the company events.
Less polished.
"I wouldn't call if I didn't think it mattered."
"Then say what you need to say."
A breath on the other end.
"He told me this morning.
About the divorce filing.
About Delaware." A pause.
"He's not going to let this go quietly, Natalie.
I think you should know that."
Natalie sat very still.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because he lied to me too."
The words landed without drama.
No tears in them.
Just the flat weight of someone who had already finished being surprised.
"He told me the money was from his personal portfolio," Sloan said.
"Investments that predated your marriage.
He showed me documents."
"He showed you documents."
"I know how that sounds."
"It sounds like you chose to believe what was convenient."
Silence.
"Yes," Sloan said.
"It does."
Natalie stood and walked to the window.
Thirty-one floors down, a yellow cab stopped at the intersection and didn't move.
"What do you want from me?" Natalie asked.
"Nothing.
I'm not calling to ask for anything." Another pause.
"I'm calling because he's already spoken to someone at your building.
The property manager.
He's trying to establish that the penthouse is a primary business residence, not a marital home.
If he can do that, he can argue the Delaware filing is improper."
Natalie's grip on the phone tightened slightly.
"He made the call at 7:40 this morning," Sloan said.
"Forty minutes after he left you."
Forty minutes.
He hadn't even reached the lobby before he started.
"How do you know this?" Natalie asked.
"Because he called me first.
To ask if I still had the contact."
The cab below finally moved.
"He asked you to help him," Natalie said.
"Yes."
"And instead you called me."
"Yes."
Natalie turned from the window.
The folder was still on the table.
The Montblanc pen lay beside it where Preston had thrown it.
"I'm going to ask you one question," Natalie said.
"And I need you to answer it honestly."
"All right."
"Did you know about the baby account specifically?
Not the savings in general.
The account we created for our daughter."
The pause that followed was longer than any of the others.
"He mentioned a family reserve once," Sloan said.
"He said it was overcapitalized.
That the money was sitting idle."
"Overcapitalized."
"That's the word he used."
Natalie closed her eyes for a moment.
A financial reserve for an unborn child, described to a mistress as overcapitalized.
She wondered if he had believed it himself.
She thought he probably had.
Preston had always been very good at believing his own framing.
"I'm going to send you something," Sloan said.
"To whatever email address you want.
It's a conversation.
Text messages between Preston and his attorney from two weeks ago." She paused.
"Before you filed.
He was already planning."
"Planning what?"
"To have you declared emotionally unstable.
Prenatal anxiety.
He was going to use your blood pressure readings and the hospital visit after your fall." A beat.
"He was going to argue you weren't fit to make financial decisions."
The room was very quiet.
Natalie looked at the Montblanc pen on the table.
Build something worth keeping.
"Send it to my attorney," she said.
"I'll give you the address."
"Okay."
"Sloan." Natalie paused.
"Why did he think you would help him?"
The answer came without hesitation.
"Because until this morning, I probably would have."
The call ended.
Natalie set the phone down on the table beside the pen.
Her daughter shifted beneath her hand, slow and steady, the way she always did in the mornings.
Natalie picked up the Montblanc pen.
She turned it once in her fingers.
Then she set it back down and called her attorney.
"He's already moving," she said when the line connected.
"We need to talk about the property manager at the building."
"I'm listening," her attorney said.
"And I'm going to forward you something in the next hour.
Text messages.
Between Preston and his attorney."
A brief pause.
"How did you get those?"
May you like
Natalie looked out at the skyline.
"Someone decided to stop helping him," she said.
