Chapter 5: Everything Sienna Knew
Julian landed at JFK two days later.
He had not cut the trip short by much — one day, not five — and the fact that he had stayed for any portion of it told me something precise about how seriously he had weighed what I'd said against what he stood to lose by appearing panicked.
He was a man who calculated.
I had spent those two days with Marcus Webb.
Marcus was in his late fifties, quietly dressed, with the manner of someone who had heard every version of every story and was no longer surprised by any of them.
He had reviewed my transfer records, the business registration, and the timeline I had reconstructed from my own emails and bank statements.
He had said very little during our first meeting.
At the end of it, he had closed his folder and looked at me over the top of his reading glasses.
"You've been methodical," he said.
"That will matter."
"What are we dealing with?" I asked.
"Potentially: fraudulent inducement to transfer funds.
Possibly wire fraud, depending on what the business entity was actually used for.
We need the company's financial records.
We won't get those easily, but we don't need them to start."
"What do we need to start?"
"A conversation," he said.
"A documented one."
So when Julian walked through the door of our apartment, I was seated at the kitchen table.
My phone was on the table, face-down.
Marcus had explained exactly how to position it.
Julian set his bag down.
He looked at the table.
He looked at me.
"You want to talk," he said.
"I want to understand," I said.
"Sit down."
He sat.
He was still composed.
Still calculating.
"Tell me about Renata Voss," I said.
"I told you on the phone.
She's a business partner."
"Tell me how she became one."
He spread his hands slightly.
"We met through a mutual contact four years ago.
We identified a shared investment interest.
We formalized it."
"Fourteen months ago."
"Yes."
"With four hundred thousand dollars."
A small shift in his jaw.
"The capitalization amount is a matter of record.
You found the filing."
"I did.
What I haven't found yet is where my four hundred and twenty thousand dollars went."
"Clara." He leaned forward.
His voice took on a careful warmth — the voice he used when he wanted me to feel managed.
"Those transfers were short-term.
I paid every one of them back."
"You paid back four hundred and thirty thousand.
A ten-thousand-dollar return on four hundred and twenty thousand, paid across three installments, over fourteen months." I kept my voice level.
"That's not a return, Julian.
That's maintenance."
His eyes moved to the phone on the table.
Then back to me.
"Are you recording this?"
"I'm having a conversation with my husband," I said.
He stood up.
"I'm not doing this right now."
"Sienna knew," I said.
He stopped.
"She helped you manage your calendar.
You told me that yourself, at the airport." I kept my eyes on him.
"She knew about the reservations.
She knew about the suite.
She knew you were bringing her, which means she knew what you had planned.
And if she knew that much, she knew about the company.
She knew about Renata."
Julian's hand went to the back of the chair.
He didn't sit back down.
"What exactly do you think you know?" he said.
His voice was no longer warm.
"I think Sienna wasn't there for a business report," I said.
"I think she was there to make sure the trip happened.
Because something needed to happen in Maui that couldn't happen here.
And I think Renata Voss is why."
The hand on the chair tightened.
"You're making connections that don't exist."
"Then help me unmake them," I said.
"Show me the company's financials.
Show me where the money went.
Show me one document that proves my transfers funded something legitimate."
He said nothing.
"That's what I thought," I said.
Julian picked up his bag from the floor.
"I'm going to stay at the office tonight."
"Of course you are," I said.
He walked to the door.
He paused with his hand on the frame.
"Clara." His voice was very quiet.
"You don't know what you're getting into."
The door closed behind him.
I turned the phone over.
May you like
The recording was still running.
I let it run for another three seconds, then stopped it, and sent the file to Marcus.
