Chapter 6: What He Did Next
Preston left the dinner at 8:40.
He did not make a scene.
That was the thing about Preston — he understood optics better than almost anyone Natalie had ever known.
He excused himself quietly, touched her shoulder once as he passed, and walked out of the private room with his jacket on and his expression composed.
Three minutes later, Natalie's phone vibrated.
*We need to talk.
Not like this.
Call me.*
She turned the phone face-down and finished her dessert.
Dana stayed until the end of the evening.
When the last guests had gone, she sat across from Natalie in the emptied room and opened her notebook.
"He's going to come back harder," Dana said.
"Tonight accelerated his timeline."
"I know."
"He'll try to reframe the dinner.
Use it against you.
Claim you staged a public humiliation designed to damage his professional reputation."
"Let him try."
"He may also go after the Delaware filing directly.
Challenge the jurisdictional basis." Dana looked up.
"We're solid, but solid takes time.
And time costs money."
Natalie nodded.
"I have the account."
The account Dana was referring to was not the Whitmore Family Reserve.
It was a separate account Natalie had opened fourteen months ago — the same month, she now understood, that Preston had begun his relationship with Sloan.
She had opened it without knowing why, exactly.
Some instinct.
Some quiet, unexamined awareness that she had begun tucking small amounts into a place he couldn't see.
Forty-three thousand dollars.
Built slowly, invisibly, over fourteen months.
She had never touched it.
"There's something else," Dana said.
"The text messages Sloan forwarded.
We've had them reviewed."
"And?"
"They're genuine.
And they're damaging." Dana set her pen down.
"He discussed having you evaluated by a psychiatrist he has a prior relationship with.
The language in the messages suggests the evaluation was intended to produce a specific outcome."
Natalie looked at the empty champagne glasses still on the table.
"He was going to have someone declare me unfit," she said.
"He was exploring it as an option.
Whether he would have followed through—"
"He would have." She said it without anger.
Just certainty.
"If I hadn't moved first, he would have."
Dana was quiet for a moment.
"There's a name in the messages," she said.
"The psychiatrist.
Dr.
Alan Foss.
He has a prior disciplinary record with the state medical board.
Two complaints.
Both dismissed, but documented." She paused.
"If Preston had proceeded, and if it had come out that he used a compromised evaluator to undermine his pregnant wife's legal standing—"
"It would have destroyed him."
"Professionally.
Possibly legally."
Natalie thought about that.
About how close it had come.
About how different the last three weeks might have looked if she had been slower, less careful, less certain.
"What do we do with the messages?" she asked.
"We hold them," Dana said.
"For now.
They're leverage.
We use them if he pushes the stability argument.
If he doesn't, we don't need to." She picked up her pen again.
"But I want him to know we have them."
"How?"
"I'll mention them in my communication to his attorney tomorrow.
Casually.
As part of the discovery disclosure." Dana almost smiled.
"He'll understand."
Natalie's phone vibrated again.
This time it was not Preston.
It was a number she didn't recognize.
A 212 area code.
She almost let it go to voicemail.
She answered.
"Mrs.
Whitmore." A man's voice.
Measured and professional.
"My name is Richard Hale.
I'm a senior investigator with the New York State Department of Financial Services." A pause.
"I've been trying to reach you for several days.
I believe we have some matters of mutual interest to discuss."
Natalie looked at Dana.
Dana had gone very still.
"What kind of matters?" Natalie asked.
May you like
"The kind involving SMR Advisory Group LLC," he said.
"And several transactions that may constitute wire fraud."
