Chapter 3 - Patricia’s Dinner
Michael did not sleep.
By morning, snow had buried the balconies of the Crestmont Grand in white.
Lily slept beside him in a portable crib.
Michael replayed the recording twice, then forced himself to stop.
Fear makes him predictable.
He wanted to call Patricia immediately.
Instead, he called Andrew.
This time he told him about the microSD card.
Andrew was furious.
“You withheld potential evidence from law enforcement?”
“I found it after their initial interview.”
“You found it because Elena gave it to you.”
“I’m turning it over.”
“Today.”
“After you copy it.”
“No. Before or simultaneously. We preserve chain of custody.”
Michael rubbed his forehead.
“I need to know what I’m dealing with.”
“You already know. Conspiracy, forgery, corporate interference, and whatever the hell they intended involving your child.”
Michael looked at Lily.
“I’m going to Patricia’s dinner.”
“That is reckless.”
“It’s useful.”
“It’s personal.”
Michael said nothing.
Andrew knew him too well.
“You want her to lie to your face.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“So I can stop wondering whether there’s an explanation.”
“There isn’t one that makes that recording good.”
Michael ended the call without agreeing.
By noon, Vanessa’s attorney had arrived.
Rebecca Sloan was a well-known Denver family-law litigator who represented wealthy spouses in ugly divorces.
That alone told Michael something.
Vanessa had not found Rebecca overnight.
She had prepared.
Vanessa sent Michael one message.
Please don’t destroy our family because I made one terrible mistake.
He did not answer.
Ten minutes later:
Your mother pushed me into this.
Then:
If you go after me, she will bury both of us.
Michael forwarded everything to Andrew.
At four, he drove Lily to Denver with Elena beside them.
He had asked Elena to come because he no longer trusted any caregiver Vanessa had selected.
Elena resisted.
“I’m not your nanny.”
“No.”
“I have a job.”
“I know.”
“You’re asking me because you trust me after knowing me for less than a day.”
Michael looked embarrassed.
“I’m asking because my daughter was safe with you.”
Elena stared out at the snow-covered highway.
Finally she said, “Only until you hire someone properly vetted.”
“Fair.”
They reached Michael’s Cherry Creek residence shortly after seven.
Patricia’s dinner was being held there.
That had been arranged weeks earlier.
Michael found his mother in the dining room directing staff as if she owned the house.
Patricia Sterling was sixty-eight, elegant, silver-haired, and terrifyingly composed.
She kissed Michael’s cheek.
“You look exhausted.”
“Long night.”
“I heard there was some trouble at the resort.”
Michael studied her.
“From whom?”
“Vanessa called.”
Of course.
Patricia sighed.
“She’s emotional. New mothers sometimes are.”
“Is that what she told you?”
“She told me Lily was briefly misplaced.”
Michael nearly lost control.
“Misplaced.”
Patricia’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t start a scene before dinner.”
His brother Daniel arrived next.
Daniel was thirty-six, nine years younger than Michael, and had spent most of adulthood resenting that their father had chosen Michael to lead the company.
He hugged Michael.
“Heard about the resort.”
“You too?”
“Mom.”
Patricia shot Daniel a look.
Michael noticed.
During dinner, Patricia discussed business.
Sterling Development was negotiating the acquisition of three luxury ski properties from Halberg Hospitality.
The transaction required rapid board approval.
Michael had opposed the deal.
The price—$180 million—was inflated.
Patricia supported it aggressively.
“So,” Patricia said, cutting into her salmon, “are you ready to stop fighting the Halberg acquisition?”
“No.”
Daniel set down his fork.
“Why not?”
“Because Halberg’s debt is worse than they disclosed.”
Patricia smiled faintly.
“You’re becoming timid.”
“I’m becoming careful.”
“Your father took risks.”
“My father read balance sheets.”
Silence settled.
Patricia changed the subject.
“Vanessa told me you’re considering separating.”
Michael looked directly at her.
“She hid my daughter in a refuse cart.”
Daniel stopped chewing.
Patricia did not.
“She panicked.”
“You knew?”
“Of course not.”
Michael watched her face.
Nothing.
No tremor.
No hesitation.
He reached into his jacket.
For one second, he considered playing the recording at the table.
Instead, he made another choice.
Another mistake.
He lied.
“The security camera wasn’t working.”
Patricia’s fork paused.
Only half a second.
But he saw it.
Then she said, “That’s unfortunate.”
Michael leaned back.
“For Vanessa.”
Patricia’s gaze hardened.
Daniel looked between them.
“What exactly is going on?”
“No idea,” Patricia said.
Michael smiled.
He understood now.
His mother was not merely involved.
She was still actively calculating.
After dinner, Patricia entered Michael’s study alone.
“You’re making this more dramatic than necessary.”
He closed the door.
“How necessary was Lily?”
Her face went still.
“What?”
He studied her.
“You always taught me that innocent people answer accusations before negotiating them.”
Patricia said nothing.
Michael continued.
“You’re negotiating.”
Her expression cooled.
“You’ve become paranoid.”
“Maybe.”
“You need sleep.”
“Maybe.”
“And you need to sign the Halberg approval tomorrow.”
There it was.
Michael laughed softly.
Patricia moved closer.
“If you refuse, the board will remove you.”
“You don’t have the votes.”
“Things change.”
Michael felt ice in his chest.
“Do they?”
Patricia smiled.
“You’ve been distracted by marriage and fatherhood. You don’t know your own company anymore.”
She walked to the door.
Before leaving, she turned.
“Oh, and Michael?”
“Yes?”
“If you intend to accuse your wife publicly, make sure no one can accuse you of something worse.”
The door closed.
Michael stood alone.
Seconds later his phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent him a photograph.
It showed Michael holding Vanessa by the shoulders during an argument three months earlier.
The angle made it look violent.
Beneath the photograph was one sentence.
May you like
Sign tomorrow, or this becomes your daughter’s custody case.
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