CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
NASH
I'd navigated billion-dollar deals. Outmaneuvered competitors who'd been in this game longer than I'd been alive. Turned my last name from a lower-class laughingstock to something that actually meant something in this city.
Preston Clarke should have been easy.
Yet he felt like the most complicated obstacle of them all.
"I want anything that I can use to ruin his life," I told the private investigator a couple days after Clara’s papers had been served.
Vinnie Rourke was the best in the business—the kind of guy who could find dirt on a centuries-dead Catholic saint.
"Financial records. Employment history. Dating life. DUIs. Parking tickets. Everything."
"Understood. How fast do you need it?"
"Yesterday." I looked at the custodial hearing papers. Clara was due in court next week, so we needed this information ASAP.
"I'll have preliminary findings by mid-week."
After I hung up, I called Lennox, my reputation ambassador. "I need you to start seeding some stories on Clara and Mia’s behalf. Deadbeat dad tries to take custody from devoted mother. That angle. Make it sympathetic but not too obvious."
"Any specific outlets?"
"The ones that matter. Get some quotes from 'anonymous sources close to the situation.'"
"On it."
Then I called Clara’s new lawyer, Heather.
We’d met the day before via video chat when a last-minute cancellation allowed her to squeeze us in early.
"We’re ready to draft the letter to Preston Clarke's attorney. I’ll be sending over a document that outlines every failure he’s accumulated since Mia was born.
Every broken promise. Every time he failed to show up or couldn’t help with basic responsibilities.
We’ve got a strong case for lost wages here on Clara’s part too.
Getting fired from numerous jobs in order to maintain parental responsibilities that Preston refused to share.
Make it clear that if he wants a custody fight, we're going to come out on the other end with sole custody. "
"Aggressive," Heather said, and I could hear her smile through the phone. “Just my style.”
"He should know what he’s up against.”
This was how you handled problems. Systematically. Ruthlessly. You identified the threat, gathered intelligence, and neutralized it before it could do any damage.
Preston had made a critical error thinking he could come after Clara and Mia. Now I was going to show him exactly what happened when he fucked with my family.
Things were moving at a good clip, considering how much stress was present in my life.
The only thing that needed to move faster was the inheritance committee.
We’d been kicked back by at least a week due to conflicting obligations for the committee members.
That translated to more time to wait in agony.
The only thing keeping me afloat was that we were at least making progress with Heather on our side. Vinnie’s results started to trickle in, and my growing file on Preston also felt like a reminder that everything was going to be okay.
Vinnie’s profile of Preston painted a far more underwhelming picture than Preston presented to the world.
A corporate job hopper, with five jobs in three years.
A pattern of late rent payments. A DUI from two years ago that he'd managed to get expunged.
And, worst of all, a series of online comments in various groups where he complained about "baby mama drama" and called his daughter "a mistake. "
I was still trying to digest everything Vinnie had sent over when Clara appeared in the doorway.
"Hey, babe," she said. "Mia's asking for her Naff. She wants you to read her a bedtime story."
I blinked hard, trying to shake myself out of the stupor that Preston had thrust me into. I didn’t know how to share this information with Clara. I almost didn’t want to. “Uh…I just need a minute. I'm almost done here."
She came closer, glancing at my computer screen. "What are you working on?"
I hesitated. I hadn’t exactly told her about this plan. I’d just gone with it. But I wasn’t going to lie to her either. "Just going through some information that came in on Preston."
Her brows furrowed. "What kind of information?"
"Anything I could find. Background stuff. Financial records. Employment history." I clicked to the next document. "Did you know he got a DUI two years ago?"
Now her eyes went wide. “Wait, what? How did you get this information?"
"I hired a private investigator."
"A private investigator?" Her voice climbed higher. "Are you serious right now?"
"Yes, very serious. You’re in a custody battle. We need ammunition."
"Ammunition." Her eyes fluttered shut and she pressed a hand to her forehead. "This isn't a war, Nash."
"It became one the second he said that shit to you at that event. You need to be prepared to fight. I’m getting you ready."
She crossed her arms, and she was quiet for a long time as she studied the screen. "Is there anything else you’ve been doing?"
Something in her tone made me pause. "What do you mean?"
"Besides hiring a private investigator, I mean."
I swiveled to face her. "A few things. I called Heather to send the first letter to Preston’s attorney. And I've had my PR team start working on some press coverage."
"Press coverage?" A surprised laugh escaped her. "What’s next, appearing on an episode of Dateline?"
"We’re controlling the narrative."
"Controlling everything, more like." Her voice was low but it landed like a punch.
"I'm protecting you and Mia. That's what this is."
Clara’s nostrils flared. She was upset. I just didn’t understand why. "You’re turning this into an episode of Law & Order here. We don’t need to take things to level-ten insanity."
I stood, frustration building. "Do I have to remind you that Preston filed an emergency custody petition accusing you of being an unfit mother? He's trying to take Mia away from you. And you want me to just...what? Play nice?"
"I want you to handle this like it's my daughter's life, not a business deal!
" Her voice cracked. "Every piece of dirt you dig up, every story you leak—that's all going to come out somewhere. Whether in court, in front of a judge…” She took a deep breath.
“Or in front of Mia someday when she's old enough to Google her own name. "
That last one landed with a thud, but I couldn’t stop to think about it. "So what's your alternative? We just hope Preston gives up?"
"We do exactly what we did. We show he's been absent. That he hasn't paid child support since she was born. That he's not fit to have primary custody. But I don't want to turn this into a media circus where Mia's entire life becomes fodder for public consumption."
"Don’t be naive. It’s hardly a media circus. But it is what you do when you play to win."
"Nash, I—" She drew a sharp breath, pausing before she spoke.
"You're thinking like a businessman. This isn't some deal to close.
This is my baby girl, and I don't want her growing up knowing her father was publicly annihilated because her mother married someone with enough money to make it happen. "
The words hit like a slap. "You think this is about money?"
"Isn't it? You're throwing money at private investigators and PR teams and lawyers. You're using all your resources to bury him because that's what you do. That's how you solve problems." She wiped at her eyes. "But I didn't ask you to wage war on Preston. I asked you to help me protect Mia."
"I am protecting her," I said. “I don’t understand why you don’t see that.”
"Your protection is going to destroy her father. And maybe I’m the idiot here, but I still want there to be a path for them to reconcile. I want him to wake up and choose her someday and be able to show up, in his way. But if you turn this into the nastiest custody battle in Manhattan…what then?”
"He started it," I said coldly. "He initiated the custody battle. He came after you. After us."
Silence stretched between us.
"I thought you'd want me to handle this," I said finally.
"I wanted you to support me. Not take over." Her voice was quieter now, exhausted. "There's a difference. But you didn’t even ask, did you? You just did it the same way you do everything. Bossy."
She turned and walked out, leaving me standing in my office surrounded by evidence of Preston's failures and the growing sensation that maybe I had one of my own.
I was doing the right thing. I knew this down to my bones. I headed for Mia’s bedroom, passing Clara on my way, to settle in and read the bedtime story. I tried to focus only on the heroic journey of the princess in the story as she moved through exotic lands in search of her dragon friend.
By the time I gave Mia her final forehead kiss and said goodnight, I could hear the water running in the shower in my bedroom. I went upstairs, leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. I could see Clara’s naked body through the translucent glass of the shower.
“Are you mad at me?”
Clara didn’t respond for a long time as she let the water run through her hair. “I don’t know what I am. I just need to think.”
I could hear the subtext. She wanted space, so I’d give it to her.
I returned to my office, determined to keep making progress on anything I could. I stayed in there until well after midnight, and by the time I went to check on Clara, she was already asleep.
The next morning, Clara was sweet but distant. She made breakfast and got Mia ready for daycare, and I could feel the rift between us.
I didn't know how to fix it.
Because she was wrong. She had to be. Moving to Wall Street and entering the world of high stakes development taught me how to fight battles—with everything I had. Certain battles required throwing the rulebook out the window or getting a little dirty.
So I threw myself into work even more. Returned calls. Reviewed contracts. Anything to avoid the hollow feeling in my chest. That's when Archer called.
"We have a problem," he said.