Chapter 14 - The Woman I Thought I Hated
For almost eighteen months, I had imagined what I would say if Madison Vale ever stood in front of me again.
I imagined anger.
I imagined humiliation.
Sometimes, on the worst nights, I imagined asking her whether destroying my marriage had been worth the penthouse, the expensive clothes, and the illusion of being loved.
But when I finally saw her again, none of those questions mattered.
She was sitting in a modest attorney's office in Springfield, Illinois, wearing an inexpensive gray sweater and holding a little boy with Adrian Sterling's dark eyes.
Eli was nearly two years old.
He had soft brown curls and a small stuffed elephant clutched against his chest.
Madison looked nothing like the woman I remembered from the hospital.
Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. Her fingernails were short and unpainted. Exhaustion had carved shadows beneath her eyes.
Jonathan had arranged the meeting through Madison's probation attorney, ensuring that her travel and participation complied with every applicable restriction.
I sat across from her.
“Where's the ledger?”
Madison looked down.
“I deserve that.”
“I didn't come here for apologies.”
“I know.”
“Then show me.”
She placed Eli in a portable stroller and reached into a worn canvas bag.
From it, she removed a slim black notebook.
The cover had been stained by coffee, and several pages were bent.
“Adrian kept two sets of records,” she began. “The electronic reports that were submitted to accounting, and handwritten notes about the arrangements he made outside the company.”
“Why?”
“He didn't trust the people he was working with.”
I opened the notebook.
Dates.
Account numbers.
Initials.
Property transfers.
And repeated references to a project called SNOWFALL.
I turned another page.
A payment of $180,000 had been labeled consulting fees.
Beside it were two initials.
G.B.
My heart hammered.
“Graham Bell?”
Madison nodded.
“Adrian said Graham was the only director who understood what needed to happen after your grandfather died.”
“What needed to happen?”
“Whitmore had to become vulnerable enough that someone could buy its most profitable divisions cheaply.”
I looked up.
“Adrian was supposed to bankrupt his own company?”
“No. He was supposed to make the numbers look strong while moving critical assets into partnerships Graham controlled.”
I felt sick.
The stolen $2.4 million had not been the entire crime.
It had been an opening move.
“Who is Northstar Freight Partners?”
Madison flinched.
“Graham's newest partner.”
“Who owns it?”
“A woman named Sloane Mercer. But the public ownership records won't tell you everything.”
“What do you mean?”
Madison pulled out a folded sheet.
It contained a list of corporate entities and intermediary companies.
Some appeared in Nevis.
Others were registered in Delaware.
One shared an administrative address with the company that had purchased her former Lincoln Park penthouse.
“Northstar was established using some of the same consultants Adrian used,” she explained.
“Why didn't you tell investigators?”
“I didn't have proof of the connection then. Adrian kept most of the records away from me.”
I stared at her.
“And now you do?”
She nodded toward the notebook.
“I found this behind the lining of an old suitcase when I moved. But there's more.”
She reached into her pocket and placed a small brass key on the table.
“Storage unit 114. Joliet.”
Jonathan leaned forward.
“Whose name is on the rental agreement?”
“My brother's. He used to handle document storage for Adrian's outside companies.”
“Is your brother willing to cooperate?”
“He is now. His attorney has already contacted the investigators.”
I studied her face.
“Why are you doing this?”
Madison's eyes filled.
“Because I saw the article about the children's medical program.”
She swallowed.
“I know what people think of me. Most of it's deserved. I cheated with a married man. I lied. I enjoyed money I knew wasn't mine.”
Her voice broke.
“But Eli has been sick twice this winter. Nothing serious, thank God. Still, every time I sat in a waiting room holding him, I thought about what would happen if the medicine he needed couldn't reach him.”
I looked toward the stroller.
Eli was staring at me.
He raised his elephant.
“Hi,” he whispered.
The innocence in that tiny voice hurt more than I expected.
I smiled gently.
“Hello, Eli.”
Madison wiped her face.
“Your trust has paid for his medical care, Claire. I know the money is protected for him, and I know I haven't earned your kindness.”
“You haven't,” I said.
She nodded.
“But children shouldn't pay for their parents' mistakes.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
For a moment, we were simply two mothers who had made very different choices.
Then Jonathan's phone vibrated.
He read the message and frowned.
“Claire, Madison's attorney just received something.”
“What?”
“A photograph sent from an anonymous account.”
He turned the screen toward us.
It showed Madison entering the building with Eli.
The timestamp was only eleven minutes old.
Beneath the image was a message.
Tell Claire the notebook belongs to people who don't forgive.
Madison covered her mouth.
I reached across the table and took the brass key.
“Then those people are about to learn something.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
May you like
I stood.
“That I stopped being afraid of powerful men the day I discovered how little their power was worth.”
