22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hugo
“ I ’m still not certain this meeting is necessary, but I do appreciate you coming to my home.” I clutched my mug of coffee.
Five days since the infamous video recording hit the airwaves.
Four days since Axel’s interview with Geneva and the visit from my parents.
Three days since Merkerson put me on suspension pending an investigation.
Two days since Renee’s doctor warned her again about her blood pressure.
One day since I caved and called Wentworth Chamberlain.
And now he sat at my kitchen table with his yellow legal pad and a grim expression on his face.
He didn’t look quite like I expected a prominent lawyer to look like. His dark-blond hair was quite long, and I had to admit his hazel eyes mesmerized. Not the same as a pair of dark-brown eyes that haunted me, though.
Still no word. I didn’t have Axel’s email and worried about putting anything in writing. Hell, even sending innocuous texts and leaving generic voicemail messages felt precarious. I was still bitterly angry at what he’d done to me and wanting to connect with him on a one-to-one level at the same time.
“I’m glad you called.” Wentworth sipped his coffee.
Sitting, we were on the same level. Standing, he had a couple of inches on me.
“We need an action plan.”
“I need to get my job back.” I winced. “My current and former students have left hundreds of messages of support.”
“I saw that.” He scrolled on his phone. “The website one of them created is…clever.”
Ana Chung. Phenomenal flautist who now played for the Vancouver Opera and, to help pay the bills, created websites. Brilliant young mind and one of my best students. I was proud of all of them…but she was someone special. I wasn’t supposed to have favorites. That being said, she was up with Axel and Ed with most accomplished and, more impressively, most humble.
“I try not to check it too often…”
“I don’t blame you. There’s a groundswell of support. Mr. Townsend and Mr. Markham’s interviews were powerful. Your ex-husband is also coming under increased scrutiny.”
After a moment, his words and tone sank in. I cocked my head. “What aren’t you saying?”
For the first time, I got a ghost of a smile. “When I put out the press release yesterday that my firm was taking you on as a client and we aimed for complete vindication, a couple of…people…approached me. Off the record, so no names.”
I nodded.
“Seems Gavin hasn’t kept his nose as clean as everyone thinks. I’ve been made aware…of some shady dealings with his family’s foundation. The one he’s the chair of.”
“What?” I scowled. “When did he become chair of the foundation?”
“When his father retired.”
“Oh…I didn’t know.”
“You don’t pay attention?”
“To Gavin’s personal or professional life? Hell fucking no.” I sipped my coffee, fighting a growing sense of unease. “That foundation does some really good work. They donate to my school’s music program.” At least I’d manage to wheedle that agreement out of Gavin during our divorce—and the foundation had upheld their end of the bargain for the past ten years. That money came in like clockwork. Money I relied on.
“Gavin’s also been siphoning money without anyone noticing.”
“Oh shit.” My gut clenched. “But someone noticed. Obviously…they called you.”
“What I’m about to tell you stays between the two of us.”
“Of course.” No matter what he told me—no matter how badly I would want to use it against Gavin—I would hold my tongue.
“The Vancouver police Commercial Crimes Division has opened an investigation. A subpoena is going to be issued Tuesday for the foundation’s books.”
“Oh God.” A wave of nausea rolled over me. Who can I approach to make up for the funding shortfall? Their donation is coming up next month…where can I go? Come to that, I might not even have a job anymore…did I think about that? Yet even as I had that thought, I was honestly more concerned about the funding for the school.
“Hugo?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you okay?” Wentworth laid his pen on his notepad. “Is this distressing you?”
“You sound like Copeland.”
“Copeland?”
“My best friend’s husband. Well, he’s my friend too. And he’s a nosy psychologist who’s promise to never analyze me and yet he does so on a regular basis.”
Wentworth smiled. “Just like I promise to never get involved in my friends’ legal issues…but can’t help giving my two cents, even if the issue is an area of the law I know nothing about.”
“You must be super popular.” I snickered.
He smiled. “Yes, divorce attorneys are amongst the most hated of all lawyers—and that’s saying something. We’re also absolutely necessary. Mediation is great for couples who are honest, fair, and care about their ex-partners or, at the very least, about their children.” He sobered. “Not everyone’s like that. I’ve taken down more than a few abusers through divorce proceedings. I can be vicious.”
“Have you ever had a client who was accused and innocent?”
“Unfortunately, yes. More often than you might think. Some soon-to-be ex-spouses think they can level accusations to be in a better position. I’ve also had a couple of clients who were guilty. I ensured they faced justice in those cases as well. I represented them—because everyone is entitled to a defense—but once they were convicted, I suggested they be generous in the division of assets.”
“That’s…gross.”
“Well, it’s also helped me hone my skills. I can’t always tell when someone is lying to me—sociopaths can be very good at concealing things…but I’m wiser to the games people play.”
“Oh.”
“Which is why I’m here.” He met my gaze. “I believe you didn’t do anything untoward with Axel when he was your student.”
“I didn’t.” I gripped my mug. “I don’t understand Gavin’s need to be vindictive. Or what he gains by dragging through my name through the mud.”
“Donations to his foundation have increased.”
“Okay, that’s gross too.” I rubbed my forehead. “I mean, if the money was going to charity, then I guess maybe that’s… No, that’s still gross.”
“He’s presented himself as the champion of abused young people. Those who are donating are overlooking the fact he stayed silent about the alleged abuse you were engaging in with your student.”
My temper flared. “I didn’t.”
“I know you didn’t. He knows you didn’t. He’s just using the publicity to enrich himself and, supposedly, the foundation.” Wentworth quirked an eyebrow. “Here’s the thing. I’ve got my accountant looking over all the public filings he can find. She’s damn good—if there’s something to be found then she’ll find it.”
“Isn’t that up to the police?”
He met my gaze.
“Oh.”
He nodded.
We understood each other. Public filings could mean many different things. And if people had approached him, perhaps he had access to other stuff. My father had called the man ruthless . I could see that in his eyes. Not avarice…but definitely something dark.
After a long moment, he picked up his pen. “I want you to take me through everything step-by-step. From the moment you graduated teacher’s college until yesterday. I’ve got all day.”
My mind flashed to the huge stack of cash my father had given me. I’d wanted to give it back, but even I could admit when I was outmatched. My family, including Leonora, had a stake in this. If I went down—even if I was innocent—it would stain all of us. In the end, I wasn’t willing to take that risk.
I took a deep breath and started from the beginning.
A couple of hours later, I sat on a rocking chair in Renee and Cope’s bedroom and gently rocked while watching my best friend.
She devoured the no-sugar fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt she loved so much. Well, she preferred heavenly hash ice cream with added marshmallows and extra chocolate syrup, but…babies… She rubbed her huge belly.
“How is it that the babies are still so tiny and you’re as big as—”
Copeland cleared his throat.
I winced, then recalibrated. “A glowing, pregnant woman?”
Renee snickered. “They’re still growing. How did it go with the shark?”
“Not sure he’d want to be called—” I reconsidered. “You know, I think he’d see that as a compliment.” I sighed. “I was right. Today cost me a mortgage payment.”
“Holy shit.” Cope poked at the coffee ice cream I’d brought him. His favorite and one Renee didn’t love.
Like that somehow would appease her.
To be safe, I was keeping my French Vanilla beyond her reach. “You know, I think I did a good job with the painting in this room.”
Renee snickered. “Nice try.”
“Well, I had to put in an effort.” I pursed my lips. “Wentworth is meeting with Mr. Merkerson tomorrow. Informally. To let my principal know that the lawsuit comes next and to suggest that, although the investigation needs to be thorough, it also needs to be quick.”
“That sounds fair.” Cope poked at his ice cream. “It’s super shitty that you were suspended at all.”
“But I had to be.”
Renee cocked her head. “That’s a very mature attitude.”
“That’s all I’ve got.” I tried to keep the venom from my tone.
My best friend’s wince assured me that I hadn’t.
All our phones pinged or vibrated.
After the past five days, I’d silenced everything except actual text notifications.
Renee held up her phone. “Why am I getting a text from Axel Townsend?”
Cope laughed. “Me too.”
“I…” I wracked my brain. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t remember telling him about—”
“Renee posted on the website that you were her best friend, but that she was posting as a teacher who’d been with you at the school through the years in question and that she was one hundred percent certain nothing happened.”
Slowly, I nodded. “You put your career on the line.”
She shrugged. “I might’ve passed it by my principal and the school administration first. Plus, I know my nose is clean. You need defending. You shouldn’t but you do. So I spoke up. Least I can do.” She rubbed her belly. “I think the photo of me with this beach ball and a note that you’re going to be the godfather had a bit of an impact.”
Thinking of the hundreds of responses—including from many of her old students—had helped. Everything helped.
Cope waved his phone. “Okay, so assuming this isn’t spam—”
I checked the phone number. “It’s legit.”
“So what is it?” He hit his screen. “It’s a link.”
Renee snagged his phone. “No way are you clicking on a link. Get my laptop.”
I’d almost clicked as well. Even knowing better. Renee was right though. Safety first. And Axel’s account might’ve been hacked.
Cope returned with the laptop and carefully entered the website.
Going out of my mind was a definite possibility by the time he finally hit play.
“It’s an audio file.”
Renee snagged the laptop and placed it on her belly. She patted the bed next to her.
Grateful she had a king-sized bed, I gingerly sat on one side of her while Cope retook his spot on the other side.
As we all gazed at the screen, she hit play.
As the piano gently played the first few notes, I was struck both by the mournfulness of the sound as well as the quality of the recording. Good equipment—but not professionally recorded. Most listeners wouldn’t know the difference, but I could tell. This might’ve passed through a sound engineer, but we were still listening to a rough cut.
Axel’s soft voice began to sing, and I was mesmerized.
Another text arrived and although the song pulled my attention, I still glanced at my screen.
— You’re an asshole —
Yeah, I was. Yet he’d written and was performing this stunning song.
Somehow, that brought me solace. I shot a text back.
— Can we talk? —
He never responded.