Chapter 8 - The Recording Richard Thought Was Gone
Katherine listened to the recording three times.
Not because she wanted to.
Because she needed to understand exactly what had been said.
Richard had been the last person to see Thomas Bell alive.
That did not mean Richard had harmed him.
Thomas had died from a documented heart attack.
Katherine refused to let fear transform uncertainty into accusation.
“What happened that night?” Alexander asked.
Katherine remembered.
Her father had been at his office.
Richard had told her he was home.
At 11:40 p.m., Katherine received the call.
Thomas had collapsed.
By the time she reached the hospital, he was gone.
“Richard told me he hadn’t seen Dad that week.”
Benjamin looked sick.
“Another lie.”
Katherine called Richard.
He answered immediately.
“You heard it.”
Not a question.
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Come to the penthouse.”
“I don’t think—”
“Now, Richard.”
He arrived forty minutes later.
Alexander opened the door.
Richard entered and saw all three sons.
“I thought Katherine wanted to talk.”
“She does,” Alexander said.
“We’re staying.”
Katherine sat in the living room.
Richard stopped several feet away.
“What happened the night my father died?”
Richard looked at the floor.
“Nothing criminal.”
“I didn’t ask that.”
“I know.”
“Then answer me.”
Richard sat.
“I went to see him.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
Of course.
“What money?”
“Davenport was close to failing.”
Katherine remembered that period differently.
Richard had told her business was booming.
“I asked Thomas for another investment.”
“And?”
“He refused.”
“Why?”
“He said I was expanding too fast.”
Her father had been right.
“I got angry.”
“How angry?”
“We argued.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
Katherine’s throat tightened.
“What did he say?”
Richard looked at her.
“He said I was using you.”
Nobody moved.
“And what did you say?”
“That he didn’t understand our marriage.”
“Were we married?”
“No. Not yet.”
They had been engaged.
Richard continued.
“He told me he had changed his estate plan.”
“The trust.”
“Yes.”
“He told you?”
“Part of it.”
“What part?”
“That you would control the investments after his death.”
“And?”
“He said I would never control them.”
Katherine understood.
“You hated him.”
“For a few minutes? Yes.”
“Then?”
“I left.”
“Was he alive?”
Richard’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then why hide the meeting?”
“Because he died less than an hour later.”
Katherine stared.
“And you thought I would blame you.”
“I blamed myself.”
That answer felt different.
Not polished.
Not strategic.
Human.
Richard continued.
“The argument was intense. He had chest pain while we were talking.”
Katherine stood.
“What?”
“I asked if he needed help.”
“And?”
“He said no.”
Her voice shook.
“You left him having chest pain?”
“He told me to leave.”
“You left?”
“Yes.”
Katherine’s hand covered her mouth.
Alexander stood beside her.
Richard was crying now.
“I was thirty-nine and arrogant and furious. I told myself he was being dramatic.”
Katherine turned away.
Her father had died alone.
Richard had known he was unwell.
“You could have called me.”
“I know.”
“You could have called an ambulance.”
“I know.”
“You could have told someone.”
“I know.”
She turned.
“But instead you lied for eleven years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“At first because I was ashamed.”
“And later?”
“Because every lie made the next truth harder.”
Katherine stared at him.
That, finally, sounded like the real Richard.
Not a mastermind.
Not a monster.
A weak man who had made one selfish decision, then another, then another, until he built an empire around hiding them.
It did not excuse him.
In some ways, it made everything sadder.
“Did Martin know?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He saw me leaving.”
“And he used it against you.”
“For years.”
“Blackmail?”
Richard nodded.
“The twenty-two million?”
“Some of it.”
Alexander said, “You could have gone to authorities.”
“And told them what? That I had improperly used Bell Meridian assets and concealed material information from my fiancée?”
“Yes,” Katherine said.
Richard looked at her.
“You might have left me.”
“I should have had that choice.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
That was the heart of it.
Not money.
Not Tiffany.
Choice.
Richard had spent eleven years making choices for Katherine and calling it protection.
Katherine sat again.
“What happens now?”
“I cooperate.”
“With the board?”
“With everyone.”
“And Tiffany?”
“I’ll support my child.”
“Only your child?”
Richard looked ashamed.
“I owe Tiffany an apology.”
“Yes.”
“I owe all of you one.”
Samuel finally spoke.
“An apology isn’t going to fix this.”
“I know.”
Samuel’s eyes were wet.
“You were my dad.”
Richard flinched.
“I still am if you—”
“No.”
Samuel shook his head.
“You don’t get to finish that sentence.”
Richard lowered his head.
Benjamin looked away.
Alexander remained expressionless.
Katherine watched all four men.
A family could break without anyone leaving the room.
Richard stood.
“I’ll go.”
At the door, Katherine called his name.
He turned.
“I believe you about my father.”
His face changed.
“But I don’t forgive you for leaving him.”
Richard nodded.
“I understand.”
“And I don’t forgive everything else.”
“I know.”
“Maybe someday some parts.”
He waited.
“But our marriage is over.”
Richard closed his eyes.
Then nodded.
“All right.”
He left.
Katherine cried after the door closed.
Not because she wanted him back.
Because accepting the end of something was different from wanting it to end.
Alexander sat beside her.
She leaned against him.
The next morning, Richard voluntarily provided investigators and the board with access to his records.
Within hours, Martin Vale contacted Katherine.
Not the authorities.
Katherine.
Richard is lying again.
She stared at the message.
Another arrived.
He didn’t tell you why your father refused him that night.
Then a photograph.
Thomas Bell.
Richard.
And a third person.
A woman Katherine recognized instantly.
Her mother.
Katherine’s mother had died when Katherine was nineteen.
The photograph was dated twelve years after her death.
Impossible.
She enlarged it.
Then saw the note beneath the image.
ASK RICHARD WHO THE WOMAN REALLY IS.
And before Katherine could call anyone, her penthouse elevator opened.
A woman stepped into the foyer.
She was nearly seventy.
She had Katherine’s mother’s eyes.
May you like
And she said:
“Katie, my name is Evelyn. Your father was my brother.”
