Chapter 5: My Sister's Debt
I did not sleep.
I sat in Eleanor's guest room with the file open on the desk and worked through it the way I used to work through corporate audits at two in the morning — methodically, without hurry, following each number to the next until the shape of the thing became clear.
By four a.m.
the shape was clear.
Diane had filed the anonymous tip.
The same codes.
The same routing structure.
The information could only have come from someone who had been inside Julian's financial world — and Diane had been living inside it for two years, housed in his property, presumably dependent on his goodwill.
Which meant at some point, something had changed for her.
I closed the file.
I picked up my phone.
She answered on the second ring, which meant she had not been sleeping either.
"Genevieve." Her voice was careful.
Tight.
"I know about the tip," I said.
Silence.
"I'm not calling to threaten you," I said.
"I'm calling because I need to understand what happened.
And because whatever Julian has told you about your options, I want you to hear mine."
She exhaled.
It was a long, unsteady sound.
"Can we meet?" she said.
"Not at Eleanor's.
Somewhere neutral."
"Name it."
She named a café in Bermondsey.
Eight a.m.
I was there at seven fifty.
I ordered two coffees and sat facing the door.
Diane came in at eight exactly.
She looked thinner than I remembered.
Her coat was expensive — Julian's money — but her face was tired in a way that clothes couldn't cover.
She sat down.
She looked at the coffee.
She did not touch it.
"He told me you pushed her," she said.
"He showed me a video.
Security footage from outside the Meridian.
A woman in a gray coat grabbing Victoria's arm."
"That wasn't me."
"I know that now." She finally looked up.
"The woman in the video — I didn't look closely enough at first.
I was angry at you.
You'd been so cold after Dad died.
You threw yourself into work and you never — " She stopped.
"It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," I said.
"But not right now.
Tell me about the statement."
Her hands wrapped around the coffee cup.
"Julian came to me three weeks before the trial.
He said the prosecution needed a witness who could confirm the threat.
He said Victoria had been through enough.
He said you had done it — he was certain — and that the statement was just confirming what everyone already knew." She paused.
"He said if I helped, he would make sure I was taken care of.
The Kensington property.
A monthly allowance."
"And you believed him."
"I was alone, Genevieve.
After the divorce from Marcus, I had nothing.
The flat was gone.
I had two thousand pounds in my account." She looked at her hands.
"I told myself I was telling the truth.
I told myself you had done it."
"But you knew about March fourth."
She was quiet.
"You knew I was in Chicago," I said.
"You called me there.
You left a voicemail about Dad's birthday.
I have the phone record."
Her jaw tightened.
"Yes."
"So you lied."
"Yes." The word came out like something she had been holding for a long time.
"I lied.
And then I couldn't stop thinking about it.
And then six months ago Victoria said something at dinner — she was drunk, she thought I was on her side — she said the miscarriage had been convenient timing.
She laughed when she said it."
The café was quiet around us.
"She laughed," Diane said again.
"And I thought about you in that prison.
And I couldn't—" Her voice broke.
She pressed her hand flat on the table.
"I filed the tip three weeks later.
I gave them everything I had found in Julian's office.
I copied files for two months before I sent them."
I looked at my sister across the table.
The expensive coat.
The tired face.
The hand pressed flat on the table like she was trying to hold herself down.
"Why didn't you come to me?" I said.
"Because I didn't know if you would forgive me enough to let me help you."
The café door opened behind her.
Cold air moved through the room.
"I haven't forgiven you," I said.
"Not yet.
But I need you, Diane.
And you need to understand what that means." I set my phone on the table between us.
"I need you to retract the statement.
On record.
With Eleanor present.
And I need you to testify about what Victoria said at that dinner."
Diane stared at the phone.
"If I do that," she said, "Julian will know it was me who filed the tip."
"Yes."
"He'll come after me."
"He'll try." I looked at her steadily.
"But by the time he understands what's happening, his accounts will be frozen and his lawyers will have more pressing things to manage."
She was quiet for a long time.
Then she picked up the coffee cup and held it in both hands.
"What do I do first?" she said.
My phone buzzed on the table between us.
Eleanor's name on the screen.
I answered it.
"The FCA executed a preliminary freeze this morning," Eleanor said.
"Julian's primary business accounts.
All six."
I watched Diane's face as I spoke.
"When did they move?" I asked.
"An hour ago.
His lawyers are already filing an injunction." A pause.
"Genevieve — Julian called my office twenty minutes ago.
He left a message."
"What did he say?"
Eleanor read it flatly.
"'Tell your client that if she does not withdraw the appeal and the FCA complaint by five p.m.
today, I will ensure that her sister faces perjury charges.
I have documentation of the false statement.
I will use it.'"
Diane had gone very still across the table.
She had heard every word.
"Eleanor," I said.
"File the retraction paperwork.
Ms.
May you like
Diane Sterling will be in your office at noon." I looked at my sister.
"She has something important to tell you."
