Chapter 8: The Call He Made Instead
Preston did not call again that afternoon.
He called Marcus.
Marcus Hale — no relation to the investigator — had been Preston's roommate at Columbia, the best man at their wedding, and the person who had set his champagne down at the anniversary dinner without drinking it.
Marcus called Natalie at 4:15.
"He wants to meet," Marcus said.
"Neutral location.
No attorneys.
Just the two of you."
"No."
"Natalie—"
"Marcus, he's under investigation for wire fraud.
I'm not meeting him without Dana present."
A pause.
"He told me it was a misunderstanding.
A bookkeeping issue."
"$2.3 million is not a bookkeeping issue."
Silence.
"He told you a number?" Marcus said.
"The investigators did."
Another silence, longer this time.
When Marcus spoke again, his voice had changed.
"I didn't know it was that large."
"What did you know?"
"He asked me to hold some funds last year.
Said it was a temporary liquidity issue.
He wired $180,000 into my personal account and asked me to wire it back to him three weeks later."
Natalie went very still.
"Marcus."
"I know."
"Did you do it?"
"Yes." His voice was flat.
"I didn't ask questions.
He was my oldest friend and he said it was temporary and I trusted him."
"You need to call a lawyer," Natalie said.
"Today.
Not tomorrow.
Today."
"I know." A breath.
"Is he going to be arrested?"
"I think so.
Yes."
Marcus was quiet for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Natalie.
I'm sorry I didn't — I should have asked more questions."
"You should have," she said.
"But that's between you and your attorney now."
She ended the call.
Dana picked up on the first ring.
"Marcus Hale held funds for Preston," Natalie said.
"A pass-through.
$180,000.
Last year."
Dana was already typing.
"I'll contact Hale's office."
"He said he didn't know the full scope."
"That may or may not matter legally.
But it matters for the investigation." A pause.
"Natalie, this is getting larger.
I want you to understand that.
This isn't just a divorce anymore."
"I know."
"Are you all right?"
She was standing at the window of Dana's office.
Forty-one floors below, the city moved in its ordinary way.
A bus.
A food cart.
A woman pushing a stroller against the wind.
"I'm 31 weeks pregnant," Natalie said.
"My husband has been defrauding clients and sleeping with his vice president for over a year.
My oldest friend's husband may be criminally implicated." She paused.
"I'm not all right.
But I'm standing up."
"That's enough," Dana said.
"For today, that's enough."
That evening, Natalie went home to the penthouse.
Preston had taken almost nothing.
His suits were still in the closet.
His Rolexes were still in the drawer.
The Montblanc pen was still on the dining table where she had left it.
She made tea.
She sat at the table.
She put both hands on her stomach and felt her daughter move in the slow, certain way she always did in the evenings.
Her phone rang once more.
This time the number was blocked.
She answered.
"Natalie." Preston's voice.
No performance in it now.
Just something stripped and tired.
"I need you to hear me out."
"You have two minutes," she said.
"Then I'm hanging up."
"The investors — I was going to pay it back.
All of it.
The market moved wrong and I needed to bridge the gap and I made a bad decision and I was going to fix it."
"You were going to fix it with our daughter's money."
"I was going to fix it.
That's what I'm saying."
"Preston." She kept her voice level.
"The Department of Financial Services has been investigating you for seven months.
They have your transfer records, your falsified investor statements, and text messages between you and your attorney discussing how to have me declared mentally unfit." She paused.
"There is nothing left to fix."
Silence.
"Who gave you the messages?" he said.
Natalie looked at the Montblanc pen on the table.
"Someone who decided you weren't worth protecting anymore," she said.
She ended the call.
She did not hear from Preston again that night.
At 7:15 the next morning, Dana called.
"They executed the warrant," she said.
"Server records, financial files, client accounts.
All of it." A pause.
"His attorney called our office at 6:50 to inform us that Preston intends to cooperate fully with the investigation."
Natalie set down her tea.
"Cooperate fully," she said.
"It means he's trying to negotiate.
Reduce the exposure." Dana paused.
"It also means he knows he can't win."
Outside, the Manhattan skyline was pale and cold in the early light.
The same view she had looked at every morning for six years.
The same city.
Everything else different.
"Dana," Natalie said.
May you like
"Is it over?"
"The hard part," Dana said, "is almost over."
