Chapter 13—Christa #2
Charla sees that too. “You think this is funny?”
Celeste’s brief amusement disappears. “No. I think it’s overdue.”
“Stay out of it.”
Celeste leans back in her chair. “That’s what Tate wanted too.”
Tate slams one palm against the table. “Who is the father?”
Judith stands. “Tate, sit down.”
He whirls toward her. “She lied to me.”
The words are so astonishing that a laugh escapes me. This time I can’t stop it.
Tate turns on me. “What the hell is funny?”
I look up at him. “You’re upset she cheated on you.”
Jai lowers her head, while Celeste covers her mouth. Even Cynthia looks away.
Tate’s face reddens. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“It has quite a lot to do with me.” I rest one arm on the table. “You were sleeping with my sister while blaming me for our marriage failing, and now you’re furious because she may have slept with somebody else.” I let myself smile. “The symmetry is spectacular.”
“Christa,” Bernard says sharply.
I turn toward him. “Do you want to discuss my manners now?”
He closes his mouth. That’s satisfying too.
Tate turns back to Charla, gripping the back of his chair. “How many?”
She widens her eyes. “What?”
“How many men?”
Charla draws herself up. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“You told me I was the only one.”
“You were the only relationship.”
The room gets quiet again. I stifle a snicker. Barely.
Tate’s fingers flex against the leather. “Relationship.”
Charla lifts her chin. “I wasn’t dating anyone else.”
He stares at her long enough that even I begin to pity her. Then I remember the McLaren, and the pity passes.
“Who did you sleep with?” Tate asks.
Charla looks toward the window instead of answering.
He moves around the chair. “Who?”
“I don’t know.”
His face contorts. “You don’t know who you slept with?”
“I know who I’ve slept with.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“Tate, stop.”
He drags the chair away from the table and paces toward the windows. The polished conference room suddenly looks too small for him.
Bernard gets to his feet. “Enough.”
Tate whirls toward his father. “You don’t get to say enough. This destroys the certification.”
Walter answers before Bernard can. “The certification can’t proceed.”
Tate’s attention snaps toward him.
Walter folds his hands on the table. “The pregnancy doesn’t meet the qualifying parentage requirement. The administrative hold is now a denial of the pending certification.”
Tate is flushed. “You can retest me.”
Walter shakes his head just once. “The result is conclusive.”
“I want another laboratory.”
Cynthia places both palms on the report. “You may obtain independent testing if you wish. It won’t preserve this certification unless a verified result establishes qualifying parentage.”
“It will.”
Charla makes a small sound.
Tate hears it and turns slowly. “What?”
She presses one hand below her ribs. “I said nothing.”
“You made a noise.”
“Tate.”
He steps back toward the table. “Who is the father?”
Charla looks toward the door. That’s the first moment I know she has an answer. Maybe not certainty, but enough of one.
Tate knows too. He stops behind his chair, keeping the table between them. “You know.”
Charla’s eyes fill.
“You know who it could be.”
She looks at me, and I almost resent that. This is hers. I refuse to help.
“Don’t look at Christa,” Tate says. “Look at me.”
Charla swallows. “There was someone at the club.”
Tate stares at her. Bernard sits down again, while Judith covers her mouth with one hand.
Celeste leans slightly toward me. “Oh, wow.”
I glance at her. “Agreed.”
Tate’s voice comes out low. “What club?”
Charla looks miserable. “The Marston.”
I know the Marston. Scott has belonged for years, and Tate knows it too.
He moves one step closer to Charla. “Who?”
“He works there.”
Tate stops. A strange calm settles over him, and it’s worse than the shouting. “He works there.”
Charla gives a quick nod.
“Doing what?”
She wipes beneath one eye. “Pool operations.”
Celeste looks at me.
I stare back.
Neither of us says it.
Tate does. “You fucked a pool guy?”
Charla snaps upright. “Don’t say it like that.”
I’m not sure there is another way to say it. I’m biting my lip so hard not to laugh that it makes me wince. I wish I were recording this to show Simon later.
Tate laughs once, then again. The sound has an edge that makes Judith move toward him, but he steps away from her. “The son I’ve been telling everyone about might belong to a fucking pool attendant.”
Charla’s humiliation flares into anger. “His name is Evan.” That makes it worse. Much worse.
Better for me, of course, and a giggle escapes through my nose, earning a stern look from Bernard, which makes it even harder not to laugh. Celeste isn’t looking at me. If our gazes meet, we’ll probably both lose it.
Tate braces both hands on the table and lowers his head.
I look toward Jai.
She meets my stare, and I know exactly what she’s thinking.
Don’t speak.
For once, I obey.
Walter clears his throat. “The identity of the biological father isn’t within the trustees’ scope beyond determining that Mr. Meade isn’t the father. We have a second issue to address.”
Tate raises his head.
Walter slides a separate document across the table. “The challenge established that the woman presented to Bernard and Judith Meade as Tate’s pregnant spouse was Charla Kaffey. Bellweather witnesses corroborated a second public presentation under the same false identity.”
Tate straightens. “Nobody presented her.”
Cynthia doesn’t bother hiding her skepticism. “That position is contradicted by every statement we’ve reviewed.”
“My parents assumed.”
Bernard looks at his son. “You told me Christa was pregnant.”
Tate turns toward him.
Bernard’s face has changed since the paternity result. The fury is still there, but now it has sharpened into contempt. “You told your mother and me that your wife was carrying a son. You stood in my study with that woman and called the baby my grandson.”
Charla recoils, and Tate points toward her. “I thought he was.”
Bernard doesn’t look at Charla. “She wasn’t your wife.” The sentence strikes harder than Bernard raising his voice could have.
Tate’s hand drops.
Judith sits beside her husband and looks at Charla. “You let me hug you.”
Charla wipes at her cheek. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
Judith’s expression turns colder. “You could have told me your name.”
Charla looks away.
Walter waits until the room quiets. “The trust contains a bad-faith certification provision. Attempting to secure a transfer through a knowingly false representation permits the trustees to suspend the applicant’s succession rights pending formal review.”
Tate’s attention snaps back to him. “Suspend?”
“Your eligibility to receive voting control under this mechanism is suspended effective immediately.” Walter keeps his attention on Tate. “The trustees will determine whether the conduct warrants permanent disqualification.”
Bernard grips the arms of his chair as Celeste leans toward Marjorie, then looks at Walter. “What happens to the voting block?”
Marjorie lets Walter answer.
“The block remains under the existing control structure while the review proceeds. The larger problem is that several downstream company provisions assume an uncontested transfer to Tate upon qualification.”
Bernard swears under his breath.
Walter nods. “Corporate counsel has been notified. Until those provisions are interpreted, certain restructuring actions and planned subsidiary consolidations will be paused.”
Tate finally sits. He doesn’t lower himself so much as drop into the chair. “This is temporary.”
Nobody answers.
He looks at his father. “Dad, I can fix this.”
Bernard stares at him. “How?”
Tate opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
Bernard leans back. “Your mother and I spent thirty-four years listening to advisers tell us the trust protected continuity. I spent half my life preparing you to take responsibility for this company.” His voice remains quiet, which somehow makes every word worse.
“You tried to obtain control by dressing your mistress as your wife.”
Charla flinches.
Tate looks toward me. For once, I don’t think he’s blaming me. I think he’s run out of other places to look.
Bernard continues before Tate can answer. “You made me part of the fraud.”
Tate scowls petulantly. “I never asked you to sign anything.”
“You used my belief that I was speaking to Christa.”
“I was going to explain after certification.”
Bernard’s stare doesn’t waver. “That isn’t better.”
Tate rubs both hands down his face. “The baby changed everything.”
“No,” Celeste says.
Everyone looks at her.
She has been quiet since the pool attendant reveal. Now she sits straighter, one hand resting near the folder Marjorie brought. “The baby gave you an excuse to do what you already wanted. You wanted the company, Dad’s approval, and a son to put ahead of my daughters before he was even born.”
Tate looks exhausted when he turns toward her. “This isn’t about your girls.”
Celeste doesn’t give him room to dismiss her. “It is to me.”
“Celeste.”
“You said Monday they weren’t affected because they’re daughters. You said it as if that explained why they shouldn’t matter.”
Judith looks at Tate.
Bernard does too.
Tate glances toward me, and I can practically see him remembering the speakerphone. “You told her what I said?”
I nod. “Yes.”
His nostrils flare.
Celeste leans forward. “Did you say it?”
Tate doesn’t answer, so Judith whispers his name. He shoves his chair back and stands. “I’m not doing this.”
Walter looks at him. “The review isn’t optional.”
“I meant this family ambush.”
I laugh, and Tate rounds on me. “You wanted me destroyed. Congratulations.”
The words erase the last bit of restraint I might have had. I stand too, and Jai doesn’t stop me. “No. You don’t get to hand me credit for this.”
Tate’s face twists. “You made Celeste file the challenge.”
“After you gave me the evidence.”
“You dragged Celeste into it.”
“You dismissed her daughters.”
He’s almost shouting. “You went after the trust.”