Chapter 5
When His Money Can't Bring Her Back
Larry Summers had never been good at losing.
He had built his company by refusing to accept the word impossible.
If a competitor entered a market he wanted, Larry outbid them.
If a contract fell apart, he found another.
If a problem appeared, he paid someone to solve it.
For most of his adult life, money had been more than wealth.
It had been leverage.
Now he was discovering its limits.
Linda had been gone for twelve days.
Twelve days without a call.
Twelve days without asking how he was.
Twelve days without returning home.
Larry had counted every one.
He stood in his office looking at a collection of gifts arranged across his desk.
A diamond bracelet.
A rare watch.
A first edition of a novel Linda loved.
A set of handwritten letters he had spent two nights composing.
His assistant stood nearby.
"Should I send them?"
Larry looked at the gifts.
"Yes."
"All of them?"
"All."
His assistant hesitated.
"Mrs. Summers may not accept them."
Larry's jaw tightened.
"Send them."
Two hours later, the first package came back.
Then the second.
Then the third.
The letters were returned unopened.
Larry stared at the boxes.
"She didn't even look at them."
His assistant said nothing.
Larry picked up the bracelet.
It had cost more than the first house he and Linda had owned.
He had expected that price to mean something.
Now it looked ridiculous.
"Take them away."
"Where?"
"I don't care."
His assistant collected the packages.
When he reached the door, Larry stopped him.
"Wait."
The man turned.
"Send one thing."
"What?"
"A note."
Larry sat down.
He wrote four words.
I am sorry. Please come home.
He stared at them.
Then he tore the paper in half.
"Forget it."
The assistant left.
Larry remained alone.
He opened his phone.
Linda's name sat at the top of his contacts.
He called.
Straight to voicemail.
He called again.
Same result.
On the third attempt, he stopped.
Meanwhile, Linda sat across from Margaret in the attorney's office.
The documents from the Sullivan Trust were spread across the table.
"There are irregularities," Margaret said.
Linda looked at the papers.
"How serious?"
"Serious enough that I don't want you signing anything until we know who authorized the transfers."
Linda nodded.
"Can Larry access the trust?"
"He had authority under the old agreement."
"Can he still use it?"
"Not without restrictions."
"Then change them."
Margaret looked at her.
"Are you certain?"
Linda didn't hesitate.
"Yes."
"That may escalate matters."
"I know."
Linda signed the documents.
Her hands did not shake.
Margaret gathered the papers.
"There's another issue."
"What?"
"Your husband has been contacting several people on your behalf."
Linda frowned.
"Who?"
"Financial advisers. Real estate agents. Your former assistant."
Linda leaned back.
"Why?"
"Apparently he's trying to arrange a private residence for you."
Linda's expression hardened.
"He wants to put me somewhere he controls."
"That's how it looks."
"Then stop him."
"I already did."
Linda looked at her attorney.
"Thank you."
Margaret gave her a measured smile.
"You're welcome."
Linda left the office feeling something unfamiliar.
Control.
Not the kind Larry had used.
The kind that came from knowing her own decisions belonged to her.
That evening, she returned to the apartment.
A black SUV was parked outside.
Linda stopped.
Her heart began beating faster.
The driver stepped out.
"Mrs. Summers?"
She remained on the sidewalk.
"What do you want?"
"I'm here on Mr. Summers's instructions."
"Then you're in the wrong place."
He looked uncomfortable.
"He asked me to give you this."
He held out an envelope.
Linda didn't take it.
"Leave it."
The driver placed it on the hood.
Then he stepped back.
Linda waited until he drove away.
She approached the envelope.
Inside was a key.
And a note.
A house in the Hamptons. It's yours if you want it. No conditions.
Linda stared at the words.
For a second, she imagined it.
A quiet house near the water.
No reporters.
No staff she knew.
No questions.
No memories in every room.
Then she understood.
The house was still Larry's solution.
His money.
His control.
His language.
She put the key back in the envelope.
Then she walked inside.
The next morning, she returned it.
Larry received it at nine.
He stared at the key.
"She sent it back?"
"Yes."
"Did she say why?"
"She said she doesn't want anything that comes from you."
Larry looked away.
He felt anger rise.
Then guilt followed it.
He had no right to be angry.
He had spent years giving Linda whatever money could buy and withholding what she actually needed.
Time.
Honesty.
Attention.
Respect.
He picked up his phone.
This time, he did not call.
He sent a message.
I know gifts aren't enough.
He paused.
Then added:
I know I haven't earned your trust.
He sent it.
Linda saw the message that afternoon.
She read it once.
Then again.
She did not respond.
Not because she wanted to punish him.
Because she had nothing to say.
For years, Larry had been the person she spoke to first.
Now she didn't know how to speak to him at all.
Three days later, Larry appeared outside her apartment.
Linda saw him through the window.
He stood beside his car.
No security.
No driver.
No expensive suit.
Just Larry.
He looked tired.
Linda did not open the door.
He called.
"Please."
She answered.
"What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you."
"You should have called."
"I did."
"And I didn't answer."
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I don't know what else to do."
Linda closed her eyes.
"You could start by respecting what I ask."
"I know."
"Then leave."
He was silent.
"I'll leave."
She waited.
"Can I say one thing?"
Linda said nothing.
"I've been trying to fix this the wrong way."
She looked through the window.
"I know."
"I thought if I gave you enough, you'd see how serious I am."
"That's what you always do."
"I know."
He looked up toward the window.
"I don't know how to make this right."
Linda felt her chest tighten.
"Neither do I."
"Do you still love me?"
She didn't answer.
Larry swallowed.
"Linda?"
She finally spoke.
"I don't know."
The words seemed to wound him more than anger could have.
He nodded.
"Okay."
He turned toward his car.
Linda watched him leave.
For the first time, Larry had asked a question without demanding an answer.
That mattered.
But it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
The next week brought another problem.
Linda received a call from her former assistant.
"Mrs. Summers, the foundation board wants to meet with you."
"Why?"
"They're concerned."
"About what?"
"The trust investigation."
Linda's stomach tightened.
"Who knows about it?"
"Someone leaked information."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Did Larry?"
"I don't think so."
Linda looked out the window.
"What do they want?"
"They want you to step away from the foundation."
Linda went silent.
The foundation had been part of her life for more than a decade.
She had built its children's education program.
She had selected its scholarship recipients.
She had worked beside Larry to make it successful.
Now they wanted her gone.
"Who made the request?"
"The board chair."
Linda's jaw tightened.
"Tell him I'll attend the meeting."
The meeting was held the following morning.
Larry was already there.
Linda stopped when she saw him.
He stood immediately.
"I didn't know you were coming."
"I didn't know you were here."
The board members shifted uncomfortably.
Linda took her seat.
The chair cleared his throat.
"We're dealing with serious questions about the Sullivan Trust and the foundation's governance."
Linda looked at him.
"Then ask your questions."
"We believe your personal situation may create instability."
Linda understood immediately.
"You want me to resign."
"Temporarily."
"No."
Larry spoke.
"Linda."
She turned toward him.
"Don't."
He stopped.
The chair continued.
"We're trying to protect the foundation."
Linda looked around the table.
"From what?"
No one answered.
She stood.
"If my marriage is inconvenient for this organization, then perhaps I've been protecting the wrong thing."
Larry's face tightened.
"Linda, please sit down."
"No."
She looked at him.
"I spent years protecting your reputation."
Then she turned to the board.
"I won't spend another day protecting it at the expense of my own."
She walked out.
Larry followed.
"Linda."
She kept walking.
He caught up with her in the hallway.
"What are you going to do?"
"I am stepping away."
"From the foundation?"
"Yes."
"You built half of it."
"I know."
"Don't let them take it from you."
"They aren't taking anything."
She turned.
"I'm choosing to leave."
Larry stared at her.
"You don't have to give up something you love because of me."
"I know."
"Then don't."
Linda's eyes filled with tears.
"That's the first thing you've said that actually sounds like you understand me."
He looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
"You finally stopped telling me what I should do."
Larry said nothing.
Linda walked away.
That night, Larry sat in his office and stared at the foundation reports.
Linda had been the heart of the organization.
Everyone knew it.
Without her, the foundation would survive.
But it would change.
He had spent years assuming her presence was permanent.
Now even the things she had built were becoming part of the price of losing her.
His phone rang.
His attorney.
"We have a problem."
Larry straightened.
"What?"
"The Sullivan Trust investigation found another transfer."
"How much?"
The attorney told him.
Larry's stomach dropped.
"Where did it go?"
"We traced the account."
"And?"
The attorney paused.
"It leads back to a company connected to Delia."
Larry stood.
"That's impossible."
"I thought you'd say that."
"Send me everything."
"I already did."
Larry opened the file.
There were transactions.
Dates.
Account numbers.
Signatures.
He stared at the final page.
Then he saw something that made his blood run cold.
One of the transfers had occurred after Linda left.
Someone was still moving money.
Someone had access.
And whoever it was wanted Linda to believe Larry was responsible.
Larry grabbed his phone.
He almost called Linda.
Then stopped.
If he called now, she might think he was manipulating her again.
He needed proof.
Not promises.
Proof.
Across town, Linda sat at her kitchen table.
She opened the notebook she had bought days earlier.
Under her first sentence, she wrote another.
I don't need Larry's money to rebuild my life.
She paused.
Then added:
But I need to know why someone is still using my name.
Her phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
Linda stared at it.
The message contained only one sentence.
You should have stayed with your husband.
Her blood ran cold.
A second message arrived.
The next time, we won't warn you.
Linda stood.
The apartment suddenly felt too quiet.
She locked the door.
Then checked it again.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She didn't answer.
It stopped.
A few seconds later, another message appeared.
Ask Larry what happened the night of the Sullivan Trust transfer.
Linda stared at the screen.
The same question had been haunting her.
Now someone else wanted her asking it.
And for the first time since leaving Larry, she understood that her marriage might not be the only thing she had walked away from.
She might have stepped into something much more dangerous.
Across the city, Larry received an identical message.
Ask your wife what she knows.
He stared at it.
Then looked toward the empty chair across his office.
For the first time, the fear wasn't about losing Linda.
It was about what might happen to her if he failed to uncover the truth.
He picked up his phone.
This time, he called his security chief.
"Find out who is watching my wife."
A pause.
"Sir, do you want us to contact Mrs. Summers?"
Larry looked at the message again.
"No."
He took a breath.
"Protect her without letting her know we're there."
He ended the call.
Money had failed.
Gifts had failed.
Promises had failed.
Larry was finally learning that if he wanted Linda back, he could not buy her forgiveness.
He had to become the kind of man who could live with her refusal.
And if someone was trying to destroy her, he would have to protect her without asking for anything in return.
For the first time, Larry understood the difference between possession and love.
Linda was not something he could win back.
She was someone he had to earn the right to stand beside again.
But before he could earn that right, he needed to find the person who was trying to make sure she never trusted him again.