Chapter 9 - The Negotiation of a Coward
We met at a small,
crowded diner on the outskirts of town.
Derek looked terrible.
His designer suit was wrinkled,
and there were dark circles under his eyes that no amount of privilege could hide.
He was sitting in a booth,
tapping his fingers nervously against the table.
When we walked in,
he tried to stand up,
but my mother’s cold stare pinned him to his seat.
“Where’s the baby?”
he asked,
his voice trembling.
“With a sitter,”
I said,
sliding into the booth across from him.
“A sitter you don't have the address for.”
He winced.
“Mallory,
please.”
“Mom is in a holding cell.”
“They won't set bail because they say she’s a flight risk.”
“Of course she’s a flight risk,”
I said.
“She has a suitcase packed with cash in her closet.”
Derek’s face went white.
“How do you know about that?”
“I know everything,
Derek.”
“I know about the Cayman accounts.”
“I know about the boutique.”
“And I know about Mr. Sterling.”
He leaned across the table,
his voice a desperate whisper.
“If you tell them about the Cayman accounts,
I go to prison too.”
“You wouldn't do that to your husband.”
“You wouldn't do that to Hazel’s father.”
I leaned back,
feeling a strange sense of detachment.
“You stopped being my husband when you stole my daughter’s future.”
“And as for being a father,”
“a father doesn't leave his wife to serve thirty people four days after major surgery.”
Derek’s eyes filled with tears,
but I could see the calculation behind them.
He was still trying to find a way out.
“I can give the money back,”
he promised.
“Most of it,
anyway.”
“If you drop the civil suit and stop talking to the auditors,”
“I’ll sign over my rights to the house.”
“I’ll leave town.”
“You’ll never have to see me again.”
My mother spoke up,
her voice like ice.
“You’ll sign over more than that,
Derek.”
“You’ll sign a full confession regarding your mother’s involvement in the shell companies.”
“You’ll provide the account numbers for the offshore funds.”
“And you will stipulate to sole custody for Mallory.”
Derek looked horrified.
“I can't betray my mother!”
“She’ll kill me!”
“She’s already dying,
Derek,”
I said.
“Her reputation is dead.”
“Her business is dead.”
“The only question is whether you want to go down with the ship.”
He looked around the diner,
realizing he was completely alone.
His friends were gone.
His money was frozen.
His mother was in jail.
“I need time,”
he stammered.
“You have until 5:00 PM,”
my mother said,
checking her watch.
“After that,
the gray folder goes to the federal authorities.”
“And they don't negotiate as nicely as we do.”
We stood up to leave.
Derek reached out to grab my hand,
but I pulled away.
“Just one thing,
Derek,”
I said.
“Why did you make me go to that luncheon?”
“Why that day?”
He looked down at his coffee,
his voice barely audible.
“Mom said if you were there,”
“it would look like everything was normal.”
“She said if you were working,”
“the investors wouldn't suspect the accounts were being drained.”
I stared at him,
the cruelty of it finally sinking in.
I wasn't just a servant.
I was a human shield.
May you like
I walked out of the diner without looking back,
the sound of my own footsteps the only thing I cared to hear.
