Chapter 8: The Call He Made to the Wrong Person
He called two days later.
I was in my office, door closed, when his name appeared on my screen.
Patricia had advised me to use a call-recording app, and I had set it up the night before.
I opened it, pressed record, and answered.
"Clover." His voice was measured.
Reasonable.
The voice he used in difficult client calls.
"I think we've both had time to think.
I'd like to talk."
"I'm listening," I said.
"I know this has been a hard week.
I know the train was — I handled that badly.
I want to acknowledge that."
I said nothing.
"I've been talking to my lawyer," he continued, "and I want to propose something that works for both of us.
I'm not trying to take anything from you.
I want what's best for the baby."
"What are you proposing?"
"A parenting plan.
Flexible, fair.
You keep your travel schedule — I know how important the work is to you.
I take primary residence because my schedule is more consistent, but you have full access.
Holidays, summers, whatever you want."
I let the silence sit for a moment.
"And the account?" I said.
A pause.
"What about it?"
"You emailed HR and told them you were taking over the Scott Global implementation."
"That was—" He stopped.
"That was a miscommunication.
I was trying to keep things stable while you were dealing with everything."
"I spoke to Richard Holt directly.
He's routing everything through me."
Another pause, longer this time.
"Clover, I think we can work together on this professionally regardless of what's happening personally."
"I agree," I said.
"Which is why I'll be handling my own account."
"Right." His tone shifted — just slightly, just enough.
"Look, I'm trying to be reasonable here.
But if you're not willing to meet me halfway on the parenting plan, I'll have to let the lawyers handle it.
And that gets expensive and public, and I don't think either of us wants that."
There it was.
The offer wrapped around a threat.
"I'll have Patricia respond to your attorney," I said.
"Patricia." He repeated the name.
"You moved fast."
"I had good reason to."
"Clover." His voice dropped.
"I want you to think carefully.
You travel constantly.
You're going to be managing a major implementation.
You're twelve weeks pregnant.
Do you really want to fight this?
It's going to be exhausting, and at the end of it, a judge is going to look at your schedule and ask the same questions I'm asking."
"Then a judge will look at my schedule," I said.
"Along with the salary that funds our apartment, the proposal that closed the Scott Global deal, and the custody draft that was written before our child has a name."
Silence.
"That document was exploratory—"
"You said that already."
"Clover—"
"Luke." My voice stayed even.
"I'm going to hang up now.
Your lawyer can contact Patricia.
Don't call me on this number again about anything that isn't directly related to the baby's health."
I ended the call.
Stopped the recording.
Sent the audio file to Patricia.
She called back within the hour.
"The threat about the judge — that's useful," she said.
"He's showing his strategy early.
He thinks your career is his strongest argument."
"Can he make it work?"
"Not the way he thinks.
Courts don't penalize parents for working.
They look at stability, involvement, support systems.
You have all three." She paused.
"There's something else.
I've been doing some background on Camellia."
I went still.
"And?"
"She's not just an intern.
She transferred into your department eight months ago from a different division.
Before that, she worked at a company where Luke was a senior consultant — three years ago, before he joined your firm."
The pieces rearranged themselves.
"They knew each other before," I said.
"They worked together for eighteen months," Patricia said.
"I think the mentorship was never about mentorship."
I sat with that for a long moment.
The train.
His hand in her hair.
*No.
Stay where you are.*
"Does it change anything legally?" I said.
"It changes the story," Patricia said.
"And sometimes the story matters."
Outside my office window, the city moved the way it always did — indifferent, continuous, full of people managing their own private reorganizations.
I had one more thing to do.
May you like
One conversation I had been putting off because it was the hardest one.
I needed to talk to Camellia.
