Chapter 7: Everything He Signed Her Name To
Clara's voice on the phone was the same as it had been in her office.
Steady.
No unnecessary words.
"Victoria Hayes is listed as a co-owner on a business account opened eighteen months ago," she said.
"The account has received transfers from three separate Montgomery family holding entities over that period.
Total moved: significant.
Harlan's attorneys are still calculating the full amount, but we are confident it exceeds what Sterling was authorized to draw."
"Meaning he took money he wasn't entitled to," I said.
"Meaning he took money he wasn't entitled to and moved it into an account shared with a woman his father has never met and his wife didn't know existed." A pause.
"There's more."
I sat on the window seat in the upstairs hallway, away from the rooms where Mrs.
Parrish moved with Hazel.
"Tell me," I said.
"The business venture Sterling has been describing to Harlan — a property development project in Newport — does not exist in the form Sterling described.
The permits were never filed.
The land was optioned but never purchased.
The investors Sterling claimed to have secured have no record of any agreement." Clara's voice was careful and precise.
"He has been describing a project to his father in order to justify the capital draws.
The project is, for all practical purposes, a fiction."
The harbor was grey today.
A thin line of clouds sat on the horizon.
"He defrauded his own father," I said.
"That is how Harlan's attorneys are describing it, yes."
"And Victoria?"
"Victoria Hayes worked in private wealth management before this.
She knows exactly what she signed.
She is not a passive participant." Clara paused.
"Genevieve, I want to be direct with you.
What Sterling has done crosses a legal line.
This is no longer simply a divorce matter.
Harlan's attorneys are preparing to refer this to the appropriate authorities."
I was quiet for a moment.
"When?" I asked.
"They want to move carefully.
They need the full accounting first.
But within the next two to three weeks." She paused.
"Sterling cannot know this is coming.
If he moves assets or leaves the state before the referral is made, it becomes significantly more complicated."
"He's still here," I said.
"He thinks he's managing the situation."
"Good.
Keep him thinking that." Another pause.
"How are you holding up?"
It was the first personal question she had asked me.
"I'm fine," I said.
"I just — I keep thinking about the Tuesday mornings.
He drove Hazel to meet his father every week for eight months.
He sat in that car with her.
He walked her in.
He introduced them.
And the whole time, he was using her."
Clara was quiet.
"She loves him," I said.
"Hazel loves Harlan.
That part is real.
Sterling used something real."
"Yes," Clara said.
"He did."
"Will Harlan still be in her life?
After all of this?"
"Harlan has been very clear on that point," Clara said.
"He intends to be present for Hazel regardless of what happens with Sterling.
He told me to tell you that directly."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"There's one more thing," Clara said.
"Sterling's attorney contacted my office this morning."
I straightened.
"Already?"
"He's filed a motion contesting the temporary custody arrangement.
His argument is that you acted unilaterally and without cause, and that the filing itself demonstrates a pattern of instability." Her voice remained level.
"He also submitted a statement from a physician — a Dr.
Harmon — claiming to have treated you for anxiety and emotional dysregulation over the past year."
"I have never seen a Dr.
Harmon," I said.
"I know," Clara said.
"We're looking into him now."
The line was quiet for a moment.
"He fabricated a medical record," I said.
"It appears so." Clara's voice was careful.
"Which tells us something important."
"He's panicking," I said.
"He's panicking," she confirmed.
"Panicking men make mistakes.
We need you steady and visible and behaving in every way like a calm, capable mother.
Can you do that for the next two weeks?"
"Yes," I said.
"Good.
I'll call you tomorrow."
I sat with the phone in my hand after she hung up.
Below me, I could hear Hazel laughing at something Mrs.
Parrish had said.
The sound moved up through the floor of the old house, warm and ordinary, completely unaware of the documents and accounts and fabricated names accumulating in offices across the city.
Sterling appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
"Lunch is ready," he said.
"I had Mrs.
Parrish make Hazel's favorite."
He was smiling.
Easy.
Generous.
The devoted father, the reformed husband, the man who had apologized and meant it.
May you like
"We'll be right down," I said.
I put the phone in my pocket and went to find my daughter.
