AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Right. Not the time for babbling. She skipped right to the hard truth. “They’ve got this all wrong. The police, I mean. Baines didn’t kill himself.”
Liam blew out a long breath as he settled deeper into the sofa cushions. His gaze was unreadable. It was as if he barely saw her. “The medical examiner said suicide.”
“Listen to me.” She slid onto the coffee table and sat in front of him. “Someone was in that room with him when I walked in there. I felt this—”
“This story won’t change anything, you know. No matter how many details you suddenly remember. I’m not saying that to upset you. It’s reality.”
They’d always been close. Talked, shared... ganged up on Baines when needed. But she wasn’t understanding him now. “What are you talking about?”
“His assets.”
The words hit her like a hard smack. So cold and out of place. “When did we start talking about money?”
“Do we ever stop?” Liam asked.
“Your family? No.” The elder Mr. Fielding had been obsessedwith get-rich-quick schemes and died without a dollar to his name. “I’d also point out that money never mattered to Baines. Not before the business took off.”
“First, money always matters.” Liam shrugged. “It just does. The difference is back then we didn’t have any, so there was nothing to lose. That’s not the case now.”
“Which is why you should listen to me. What happened had nothing to do with Baines being despondent or suicidal. We both know that’s true. He compartmentalized. Kept his emotions separate from the business.” He hadn’t always been that way. He’d been driven. Determined to give Kennedy the financial stability he’d lacked growing up, but at some point a switch clicked and he changed. “Not sure when he learned that skill, but he’d refined it by the time we divorced.”
“I’m talking about you, Gabby.” Liam’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “The alimony stops.”
The words sat there, heavy and damning. She hadn’t read the support or other financial provisions in the divorce agreement in months, but she knew some of them would matter now. She just hadn’t had time to figure out how they worked together or what they mean for her now. “You can’t think—”
“The insurance policy he bought to protect the alimony in case something happened to him, a provision your attorney insisted on, has a self-injury clause for the first two years.” He hesitated before continuing. “The clause was in effect for forty-one more days. His suicide means you don’t get ongoing support. No alimony. No insurance that protected the alimony.”
Her brain scrambled. The reality of that loss ran right upagainst her frustration that he thought she cared about the money right now. “And because of that you think I’m making up the story about the intruder?”
“Honestly? It would be better for you financially if someone had killed Baines.”
Chapter Nine
Jessa
Jessa wasn’t sure why she’d been pulled into an emergency meeting with a few of her bosses. She’d hoped, after being an associate for an embarrassing number of years, and on a hamster wheel of obscene billable hours, that they’d called her in to talk about finally making partner—a position she should have achieved at least five years ago, but switching firms had temporarily derailed her.
Looking around, she saw a group of people, all at the top of their field. None of them smiling. Nothing telegraphedcongratulations.
Shit.
She mentally ran through her caseload and never-ending to-do list. Exhaustion pulled at her because she’d stayed in the office until almost midnight last night, finishing discovery responses and documents before they were sent to opposing counsel this morning. Messing up and missing an important filing deadline was more than unforgivable. It amounted to malpractice and likely a one-way ticket out of the profession.
She thought about the agreements she needed to write and the draft order a judge wanted to review tomorrow. Everythad been crossed, as far as she knew, but just barely. “Is something wrong?”
Eight white men, who her friend Faith insisted looked so much alike she could only identify them by how much hair they still had, sat around the conference room table with her. One woman, the managing partner, hadn’t lifted her head from studying whatever file she had in front of her.
The partner directly across from her, Jon Covington, who literally preferred to be called Covington in the office, started them off. “We need to talk about the Bartholomew case.”
So, Darren.She’d told the partners about what happened outside of the courtroom last week. Downplayed it. Said it was no big deal. Put it in a damn email rather than calling a meeting or asking for help, because this crowd would never invite her into the partnership club if she showed weakness. Last year a new associate cried when a senior partner screamed at her about forgetting to give him a message and was fired the next morning.
“If this is about the threat, I’ve decided—”
“No.” Covington waved a hand in the air as he cut Jessa off. “Those things happen in divorce cases because tensions are high. You’ll get used to it.”
Okay, that bit of condescension pissed her off. She was an expert in cases like these. And no one should get comfortable with threats. She knew that, and he should, too.
She tried not to let theyou’vegot to be kiddinganger seepinto her voice. “I know that people aren’t at their best during a divorce. I’ve been doing this work for more than a decade now, but this was different. I thought—”
