Chapter 8: The Day It Broke Open
The witness tampering charge broke in the financial press on a Thursday.
I didn't plant it.
I didn't need to.
Legal filings are public record, and Edward Sterling's name attached to a witness tampering allegation was the kind of thing that moved on its own.
By noon, Sterling Systems stock had dropped four percent.
By two o'clock, Julian called.
"The board is convening an emergency session," he said.
His voice was controlled, but only just.
"Three members have already called me asking whether my father should step back from his seat voluntarily."
"What did you tell them?"
"I told them to wait for the full legal picture." A pause.
"Clara, he's calling it a misunderstanding.
He's telling the board that Rourke's attorney mischaracterized a routine legal outreach."
"Does the board have access to the email?"
"Not yet."
"They will by end of day.
Grace is releasing it to our barrister this afternoon.
It will be in the court record by five."
Silence on his end.
"Julian," I said.
"I know this is hard."
"He's my father."
"I know."
"He built—" Julian stopped.
Started again.
"He built everything I grew up in.
Everything I thought I understood about how the world worked."
"And he used that to take my children from you before you knew they existed." I kept my voice even.
"Both things are true."
Another long silence.
"The board is going to ask me to take his seat," Julian said.
"Interim chairman.
While the legal process plays out."
"Are you going to?"
"I don't know yet."
"That's your decision.
Not mine."
"I know." He exhaled.
"How are the girls?"
The shift in his voice was unmistakable.
Something in it loosened.
"Rose has decided the hotel breakfast buffet is the greatest achievement of human civilization," I said.
"Lily asked me this morning if the man at the airport was someone we knew.
June hasn't asked anything yet, which means she's thinking the hardest."
Julian made a sound that was almost a laugh.
"She sounds like you," he said.
"She is like me.
All three of them are, in different ways.
But June especially."
"Can I—" He stopped.
"Would Saturday work?
For a proper introduction.
Somewhere neutral.
A park, maybe.
Somewhere they can run."
I thought of June's face at the airport.
Calm.
Watchful.
Taking everything in.
"Saturday," I said.
"I'll text you the location."
He thanked me.
Then: "Clara.
Whatever happens with my father.
Whatever the board decides.
Whatever the courts decide.
I need you to know that I am not going to fight you on any of it."
"I know, Julian."
"I mean it.
He made his choices.
He has to face them."
"Yes," I said.
"He does."
After I hung up, I sat quietly for a moment.
Then Grace called back.
"The Metropolitan Police have requested a formal interview with Edward Sterling," she said.
"His attorneys have been notified.
He's been asked to present himself voluntarily by Monday."
"And if he doesn't?"
"Then Monday afternoon becomes considerably less voluntary."
I looked out the window.
The sky over London was a flat, pale grey, the kind that promises nothing dramatic — just the steady, ordinary continuation of a day doing what it was always going to do.
"Grace," I said.
"Yes?"
"Thank you.
For all of it."
A beat.
"That's what you pay me for."
"No," I said.
"The invoice covers the legal work.
This is something else."
May you like
A short silence.
Then, more quietly: "You're welcome, Clara."
