Chapter 7: The Offer
Julian found me the next afternoon.
I was walking out of the building where Arthur's colleague, a woman named Patricia Moss, had spent two hours preparing my father for his voluntary statement.
My father had gone in looking hollowed out and come out looking steadier.
Patricia had that effect on people.
Julian was standing beside a black car at the curb.
No driver visible.
Just him, in a coat that probably cost more than three months of the medical allowance he had denied Hazel.
"I asked you to talk," he said.
"I didn't agree to."
"Genevieve." He stepped closer.
"I know what Arthur Hale has been building.
I know about the AG contact.
I know about your father's statement." His voice was controlled, but something underneath it was not.
"I want you to think very carefully about what you are doing.
Not to me.
To your father.
His name is on that account.
My lawyers can make that look however they want it to look."
"Your lawyers can try," I said.
"He gave a voluntary statement this morning.
Everything he knew, everything he signed, and the exact circumstances under which he signed it.
It's already on record."
Julian's jaw moved slightly.
"I'm prepared to offer you a settlement," he said.
"Significant.
Enough that you would never have to work again.
A clean exit, no litigation, no public record." He paused.
"Think about what a trial does to a family.
To your father's name.
To yours."
"My daughter's name is already in your financial records as a line item that was denied," I said.
"I'm not particularly worried about what a trial does to mine."
"Genevieve—"
"You called me to offer me money." I looked at him directly.
"You denied Hazel's medication within four minutes.
You came home laughing the night she di—the night she was gone.
And now you're standing on a sidewalk offering me a settlement so that none of it becomes public." I picked up my bag.
"There is no number, Julian."
His expression shifted.
The controlled version of him stepped back, and something colder came forward.
"Then I'll make sure the narrative around your father is the first thing the press sees," he said.
"A grieving daughter manipulated by a father who had his own financial arrangement with the Vance family.
It writes itself."
"Go ahead," I said.
"Arthur has the Delaware filing.
Ximena's signature is on it.
The moment you point at my father, you point at her.
And she is not going to take that quietly."
Something moved behind Julian's eyes.
A small recalculation.
"Ximena is loyal," he said.
But it came out slightly less certain than he intended.
"Ximena signed her own name to a document she had no legal authority to witness," I said.
"She's not loyal.
She's exposed.
And she knows it." I took a step toward the curb to flag a cab.
"Talk to her before you talk to the press, Julian.
See how loyal she feels right now."
I got into the cab.
Through the window, I watched him standing on the sidewalk, phone already at his ear.
He was calling Ximena.
I was certain of it.
What I didn't know yet — what I found out three hours later when Arthur called — was that Ximena had already called the AG's office herself that morning.
May you like
She hadn't waited for Julian to come for her.
She had come forward first.
