Chapter 9 - THE WOMAN IN EMERALD.
Sloane Mercer requested the meeting.
Nobody expected that.
Her attorney called Amelia’s attorney three days after the Harrow Strategies documents surfaced and asked whether Amelia would consider a civil settlement discussion.
Amelia’s answer was no.
Then Sloane’s attorney said Sloane had information about Leonard Shaw.
The answer became maybe.
They met in a secure conference room at the prosecutor’s office.
Sloane wore cream.
Amelia hated that she noticed.
For almost a year Sloane had been the most polished person in every room, and apparently even criminal investigation could not make her choose an ugly jacket.
She looked tired anyway.
Not devastated.
Not transformed.
Just tired.
Amelia sat opposite her.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Finally Sloane said, “You look better.”
Amelia almost stood up.
Her lawyer touched her arm.
Sloane realized the stupidity of the sentence.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
Sloane looked down.
“That’s fair.”
Amelia waited.
“What do you know about Shaw?”
Sloane folded her hands.
“Adrian used to meet him.”
“How often?”
“Every few months.”
“Where?”
“Restaurants. Private clubs. Blackthorn.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Amelia laughed.
“Of course not.”
Sloane’s eyes sharpened.
“You think I knew everything Adrian did because I was sleeping with him.”
There it was.
The relationship finally spoken plainly.
Adrian had been sleeping with Sloane throughout most of his relationship with Amy.
Another betrayal.
Strangely, Amelia felt almost nothing.
Maybe humiliation had limits.
“You mocked me for eleven months while you were sleeping with him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sloane looked toward her lawyer.
The lawyer said nothing.
Sloane exhaled.
“Because I thought you were temporary.”
Amelia stared.
Sloane kept going because stopping would have been worse.
“Adrian dates women like you.”
“Like me?”
“Women without family money.”
The sentence sat there.
“He likes being needed,” Sloane said. “He pays rent. Fixes cars. Gets people jobs. Then when they become inconvenient, they disappear.”
“Disappear how?”
“Out of his life. Don’t make that sound criminal.”
Amelia did not.
Words had limits.
“What made me inconvenient?”
“You kept asking questions.”
“About workers.”
“About everything.”
“And you told him to humiliate me.”
Sloane looked down.
“Yes.”
“Did you expect what happened?”
“No.”
Amelia’s expression must have changed because Sloane added quickly, “I swear.”
“You stood there for two hundred counts.”
“I know.”
“You laughed.”
“I know.”
“You raised a glass.”
Sloane’s voice broke.
“I know.”
Amelia felt anger rise.
Not cinematic anger.
No shaking fist.
Just a hard pressure behind her ribs.
“Then don’t tell me what you expected. Tell me why you stayed.”
Sloane’s eyes filled.
That did not impress Amelia.
“I was afraid of him.”
“You were sitting on a velvet sofa.”
“I know how that looks.”
“It looks comfortable.”
Sloane flinched.
Good.
Some truths should.
Then she said something Amelia did not expect.
“My father’s company owes Voss Holdings seventy million dollars.”
Amelia paused.
Sloane’s glamour had always looked like freedom.
It wasn’t.
Her family’s luxury real-estate company was drowning in debt.
Adrian controlled refinancing.
If Sloane publicly turned against him, Mercer Development could collapse.
Hundreds of employees could lose jobs.
Her parents could lose everything.
“That doesn’t excuse you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Sloane nodded.
“I chose my family’s money over you.”
There.
No tragic speech.
No request for forgiveness.
A decision.
An ugly one.
Amelia respected the clarity more than tears.
Sloane leaned forward.
“Shaw came to Blackthorn twice while you were dating Adrian. They talked about you.”
“As Amy?”
“I thought so.”
“What did they say?”
“I only heard pieces.”
Facts.
Not guesses.
“Shaw told Adrian, ‘She needs to lose access before she creates a paper trail.’”
Amelia’s lawyer wrote quickly.
“Anything else?”
“The night of the ballroom…”
Sloane stopped.
Amelia waited.
“I saw Adrian receive a message.”
“We know.”
“He smiled after he read it.”
“What did he say?”
Sloane looked at Amelia.
“He said, ‘See? Even her own people are tired of her.’”
Amelia went cold.
Amy Reed had no “own people” Adrian knew about.
Unless somebody had told him enough to suggest she did.
“Did Adrian know I was a Whitmore?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Think?”
“He never acted like it. If he knew, he never would have touched you.”
That sentence was supposed to comfort her.
It did the opposite.
If Adrian had known she was wealthy, she would have been safe.
Amy Reed was not.
That was the entire story.
Sloane reached into her bag.
Her lawyer immediately stopped her.
“We disclosed this.”
He removed a sealed evidence sleeve instead.
Inside was a small notebook.
“Adrian kept handwritten notes after meetings,” Sloane said. “He didn’t trust phones.”
Investigators had already photographed the pages.
One entry read:
L.S. says heir situation contained. Amy still problem.
Amelia stared.
L.S.
Leonard Shaw.
Or someone else.
The next line was worse.
If Amy learns who she’s protecting, deal is dead.
Amelia looked up.
“Who was I protecting?”
Sloane shook her head.
May you like
“I don’t know.”
For once, Amelia believed her.
