Chapter 10: What He Brought to the Table
Mark arrived at Diana's office with his attorney, a man named Gerald Fitch who had the practiced calm of someone paid to look unworried.
Mark wore a suit I recognized — the charcoal one he saved for important meetings.
He had shaved.
He looked, on the surface, like a man in control of the situation.
He didn't look at me when he sat down.
Diana opened.
"Mr.
Ashford.
Your attorney indicated you have information relevant to the financial review.
We're here to listen."
Gerald Fitch set a folder on the table.
"My client acknowledges that certain fund transfers were made from the Crestview operating account over the past twenty-three months.
However, he disputes the characterization of those transfers as fraudulent.
He maintains they represent a personal loan arrangement, informally structured, which he intended to formalize and repay."
"A personal loan," Diana said.
"To a holding company he created.
To fund a household and a child's education.
Routed through a fictitious vendor account."
"Informally structured," Gerald repeated.
"The quarterly reports?" Diana said.
Gerald's pause was small but there.
"My client acknowledges an error in how certain figures were presented.
He maintains this was an accounting oversight, not intentional falsification."
"Three consecutive quarters," Diana said.
"The same oversight, three times."
Mark's jaw tightened.
He still wasn't looking at me.
"My client is prepared to make full restitution of the transferred funds," Gerald said.
"In exchange, he asks that the state attorney referral be withdrawn and that the separation proceed as an uncontested dissolution."
Diana looked at me.
I gave a small nod.
"And the ownership filing?" Diana said.
"The petition to remove Mrs.
Ashford as co-owner?"
"Withdrawn," Gerald said.
"Immediately and unconditionally."
"What does your client propose as the dissolution terms?"
Gerald opened the folder.
"An equal split of all marital assets, including Crestview Developments, valued at current market rate using an independent assessor."
Diana didn't move.
"The current market rate, using financials that your client falsified."
Gerald cleared his throat.
"Using corrected financials."
"Which will show a company worth considerably more than the figures your client presented to the board." Diana set her pen down.
"Mr.
Fitch, the state attorney referral has already been made.
That is not something my client can withdraw.
What she can do is provide a full cooperation statement, which may or may not affect how that office proceeds.
What she will not do is accept a valuation based on any figures your client produced."
Mark looked up for the first time.
He looked at me directly.
"Laura.
Can we just — can we talk?
The two of us.
For five minutes."
"No," I said.
"I made mistakes.
I know that.
But I'm trying to fix this."
"You tried to take the company," I said.
"You falsified reports.
You threatened my father.
You built a second life with money that belonged to both of us." I kept my voice level.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Daniel is four years old," he said.
"He's my son.
I was trying to take care of him."
"I know how old he is," I said.
"And I know his name.
And I know you've been lying to his mother about who you are the same way you've been lying to me." I paused.
"Does Margaret know you're married?"
Mark's face changed.
"She doesn't," I said.
"Does she."
He looked at the table.
"Then you've been lying to everyone," I said.
"And calling it taking care of them."
The room was very quiet.
Gerald Fitch shuffled his papers.
"Perhaps we should take a short break—"
"No," Diana said.
"We're going to finish this today." She opened her own folder.
"Here is what my client will accept."
She laid out the terms clearly and without drama.
An independent valuation of Crestview using corrected financials.
A fifty percent ownership stake transferred to Laura outright, with a structured buyout of the remaining stake over three years.
Full restitution of the transferred funds, documented and enforceable.
A clean separation agreement.
No contest.
Gerald Fitch looked at Mark.
Mark stared at the table for a long moment.
Then he picked up the pen.
He signed without another word.
When it was done, he stood up.
He finally looked at me — really looked, the way he hadn't in longer than I could name.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"I know that doesn't fix anything."
"No," I said.
"It doesn't."
He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair and walked out.
Gerald Fitch followed, closing the door quietly behind him.
Diana and I sat in the silence for a moment.
"It's not over," she said.
"The state attorney will still proceed on their own timeline.
He may face charges."
"I know."
"And the company valuation process will take several months."
"I know that too."
She looked at me.
"How are you feeling?"
I thought about the kitchen table where I had spread out twenty-three bank statements.
The photograph of a little boy with Mark's jaw.
The voicemail.
The threat about my father that had dissolved the moment I named it.
"Like I'd like to go see my father," I said.
May you like
Diana almost smiled.
"Go."
