Chapter 7: The One Person They Thought She'd Protect
Her brother's name was Theo.
He was four years younger than Marlowe, and he had spent most of his adult life making decisions that required other people to clean up after him.
Marlowe had done it more times than she could count — quietly, without making him feel small, because he was her brother and that was what she did.
She had not told Frances about the loan.
She had not told anyone.
Garrick had given Theo sixty thousand dollars eighteen months ago, framed as a private arrangement between family.
No paperwork.
No terms.
Just a favor between men, Garrick had said, with a hand on Theo's shoulder and a smile Marlowe had not been in the room to see.
She had found out four months later, by accident, when Theo let it slip during a phone call he thought she wasn't fully listening to.
She had understood immediately what Garrick had done.
He had bought a piece of her brother before the marriage ended.
A quiet insurance policy.
Something to use if she ever pushed too hard.
Frances sat down beside her.
"He hasn't been contacted yet.
Cordelia is still in the corridor."
"She won't reach him," Marlowe said.
"You can't know that."
"I changed his number three weeks ago.
And I told him not to speak to anyone connected to Garrick under any circumstances." She kept her voice level.
"I told him why."
Frances looked at her.
"How did he take it?"
Marlowe thought about the phone call.
Theo's voice going quiet.
The long pause before he spoke.
The way he had said *I didn't know he was going to use it against you* — and the way she had believed him, because whatever his faults, Theo did not lie to her face.
"He cried," she said.
"And then he asked me what he could do."
"And?"
"I told him to stay home, stay quiet, and let me handle it."
Frances was quiet for a moment.
"Is there anything else, Marlowe?
Anything at all that they might have that I don't know about?"
Marlowe considered the question the way she had learned to consider everything in the past eight months — carefully, completely, without flinching.
"No," she said.
"That was the last one."
Court resumed.
Cordelia returned from the corridor and took her seat in the gallery.
Her face gave nothing away.
But her phone was in her hand, and her thumb was moving.
Marlowe's phone, set to silent in her bag, received a text from Theo eleven minutes later.
*Someone just tried to call me from a blocked number.
Didn't answer.
You okay?*
She typed back under the table without looking down.
*I'm okay.
Don't answer anything.
Almost done.*
His reply came in seconds.
*I'm proud of you.*
She put the phone away.
Judge Blackwood called the afternoon session to order and turned to Mr.
Crane.
"Counselor, does your client wish to present any further evidence or witnesses?"
Mr.
Crane rose.
"Your Honor, we'd like to request a continuance of forty-eight hours to review the materials submitted this morning."
"That request was available to you thirty days ago when the subpoena was filed.
It is not available to you now." The judge's voice was not unkind, but it was final.
"Do you have further evidence or witnesses?"
A long pause.
"No, Your Honor."
Judge Blackwood nodded.
He gathered the folders in front of him and aligned them precisely.
"Then I'll hear closing statements beginning at nine o'clock tomorrow morning.
We're adjourned."
The gavel came down.
Garrick stood slowly.
He turned toward Marlowe's table — not with arrogance this time, not with the smirk he had worn on the first morning.
He looked at her the way a man looks at something he has lost and is only now understanding the full weight of.
"I would have given you a fair settlement," he said.
Quiet.
Almost to himself.
Marlowe picked up her bag.
"You would have given me what you decided I deserved.
That's not the same thing."
She walked past him.
She did not look back.
In the corridor outside, Delphine was waiting — not for Marlowe, but for Garrick.
She had her coat on and her bag over her shoulder.
When Garrick came through the door, she looked at him for a long moment.
Then she walked away.
He watched her go.
He didn't call after her.
May you like
Marlowe saw it from the end of the corridor.
She kept walking.
