Chapter 7 - The Divorce Petition
Rachel read the petition standing in the coffee shop.
Daniel alleged that she was emotionally volatile.
He described “episodes of irrational suspicion.”
He referenced arguments from the previous year.
He described the basement incident as “physical aggression toward a hotel employee witnessed by staff.”
And he claimed Rachel was involving Ethan in adult corporate disputes.
Naomi took the phone from her.
“Do not panic.”
“He’s asking for sole decision-making.”
“Asking is not receiving.”
“He says I’m unstable.”
“He can say the moon is made of cheese.”
“He has Clara.”
“You have Maya.”
“He has company counsel.”
“He cannot use company counsel for his divorce.”
“He has money.”
Naomi stared at her.
“So do you.”
Rachel hated how hollow that sounded.
Her wealth suddenly seemed like an object everyone was fighting over.
Her husband.
Her brother.
Victor Dane.
Maybe even people she had not yet discovered.
“Can he take Ethan?”
“Not based on this petition. Illinois courts focus on the child’s best interests. A judge will care about actual evidence, not Daniel’s adjectives.”
“What about me pushing Clara?”
“We deal with facts. You were rescuing Ethan.”
Naomi scrolled.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“He attached a letter.”
“From whom?”
Naomi turned the screen.
Dr. Aaron Feld.
Rachel’s former therapist.
Her blood went cold.
Three years earlier, after her father died, Rachel had seen Feld for grief and panic attacks.
Daniel had encouraged it.
Supported it.
Driven her to appointments.
The attached letter did not reveal treatment details, but it stated Rachel had previously reported “periods of anxiety, sleep disruption, and heightened suspicion.”
Rachel whispered, “How did he get that?”
Naomi’s face hardened.
“Good question.”
“I never authorized Feld to speak to him.”
“Then we will find out exactly what happened.”
Rachel sat.
Daniel had spent years collecting pieces of her life.
Every vulnerable moment.
Every private fear.
Every time she had asked for help.
Now he was arranging them like weapons.
Her phone rang.
Owen.
She rejected it.
He called again.
Naomi said, “Answer.”
Rachel did.
“What?”
“Where are you?”
“Why?”
“I need to see you.”
“You had your chance.”
“Rachel, please.”
Something in his voice stopped her.
“Where?”
“Dad’s old office.”
Ward Meridian’s original corporate offices occupied the upper floors of a restored building near the river.
Samuel Ward’s private office had been preserved after his death.
Rachel had not entered it for nearly two years.
At 8:20 p.m., she arrived with Naomi and Colin.
Owen was waiting.
He had been drinking.
Rachel smelled bourbon.
“You drove?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Owen looked at Naomi.
“I need to talk to my sister.”
Naomi crossed her arms.
“I’m staying.”
Owen laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Rachel shut the door.
“What do you want?”
Owen walked to their father’s old desk.
“Daniel didn’t just lend me money.”
Rachel’s anger cooled into caution.
“What else?”
“He covered something.”
“What?”
Owen looked ashamed.
“Two years ago, when we were renovating the Boston property, I signed a side agreement with a contractor.”
Rachel stared.
“For what?”
“A referral payment.”
Her face changed.
“You took a kickback?”
“Not exactly.”
“How exactly?”
“They invested in my restaurant company.”
“In exchange for a hotel contract.”
Owen looked away.
“Yes.”
Rachel felt disgust.
“How much?”
“Eight hundred thousand.”
Naomi said nothing.
That frightened Owen more than shouting would have.
Rachel asked, “Daniel knows?”
“He found out.”
“And instead of reporting it, he used it.”
Owen nodded.
“He told me if I ever went against him, he’d send everything to the board and prosecutors.”
Rachel turned away.
“You let him blackmail you.”
“I was scared.”
“You let him frame me.”
“I didn’t know about that until this morning.”
“But now you know.”
“Yes.”
“And you still said you couldn’t vote with me.”
Owen’s eyes filled with shame.
“I have kids too.”
Rachel stopped.
Owen had two daughters, nine and twelve.
“If I’m prosecuted, Amy divorces me. I lose everything.”
Rachel looked at him.
“And you decided I could lose everything instead.”
“No.”
“That is exactly what you decided.”
Owen stepped closer.
“I came because there’s something else.”
He opened their father’s old desk drawer.
Inside was a locked steel document box.
Rachel frowned.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“Dad gave me the key before he died.”
Her anger returned instantly.
“He gave you something and you waited five years?”
“He told me to open it only if Daniel ever tried to force a sale of the Chicago hotel.”
Rachel stared.
“What?”
Owen pulled a small brass key from his pocket.
His hand shook as he inserted it.
The lock clicked.
Inside were several folders.
A voice recorder.
And a sealed envelope with Rachel’s name.
She reached for it.
Naomi stopped her.
“Photograph everything first.”
Colin did.
Then Rachel opened the envelope.
Her father’s handwriting covered three pages.
Rachel,
If you are reading this, Daniel has become exactly what I feared he might become.
Her knees weakened.
She kept reading.
Samuel wrote that five years earlier, shortly before his death from pancreatic cancer, he had discovered irregular transactions during Daniel’s tenure as chief financial officer.
Nothing large enough to prove theft.
But enough to frighten him.
He had confronted Daniel privately.
Daniel denied wrongdoing.
Samuel had then inserted additional approval controls into the company’s finance system.
Rachel looked up.
“Daniel knew Dad suspected him.”
Owen nodded.
Rachel returned to the letter.
One paragraph was underlined twice.
Never let him sell Chicago to Victor Dane.
Dane tried to buy this company from me twenty years ago. He believes family businesses are easiest to acquire when the family is divided.
Rachel’s hand trembled.
The final sentence was worse.
If Daniel is working with Dane, assume he has already found the weakest person in our family and put a price on them.
Rachel slowly looked at Owen.
He lowered his head.
Then Colin lifted the old voice recorder.
“There’s a file on this.”
Rachel pressed play.
Her father’s voice filled the office.
Older.
Weak.
But unmistakable.
“Daniel, shut the door.”
Then Daniel’s younger voice.
“What is this about?”
Samuel answered.
May you like
“About the money you think I haven’t noticed.”
Everyone in the room stopped breathing.
