Chapter 2 - FIVE DAYS POSTPARTUM
Our daughter was medically fine.
I needed a pediatrician to say it.
The collar had been fastened around the outside of the swaddle.
No neck compression.
No skin injury.
No breathing compromise.
The bell had startled her.
That was all.
“All?”
The pediatrician looked at me gently.
“Medically, yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Good.
One problem reduced to its correct size.
My slap was also given its correct size.
Police took statements.
Riston’s mother insisted on making a battery complaint.
Fair.
I had struck her.
The officer asked:
“Was she still touching the baby when you slapped her?”
“No.”
“Was the baby already with your husband?”
“Yes.”
“Did she advance toward you?”
“No.”
I could have lied.
There were thirty witnesses and cameras.
But even without them, I would not.
“She insulted me,” I said. “I lost my temper.”
The officer nodded.
No lecture.
No congratulation.
Good.
My attorney, Naomi Price, arrived that evening.
She represented me separately from Sutton Meridian.
“You may be cited.”
“I know.”
“Potential misdemeanor battery.”
“I know.”
“Do not post online.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not let relatives post statements for you.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Excellent. Postpartum Carys is easier than corporate clients.”
“Give it time.”
Riston sat across the room holding the baby.
He had changed from his formal shirt into a gray T-shirt.
His mother’s badge lay inside an evidence envelope on the table.
The pet collar was in another.
Naomi noticed me looking.
“You have a separate problem.”
I looked at Riston.
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“I was going to tell you tomorrow.”
“That sentence has never improved anything.”
“I know.”
“When did you deactivate her badge?”
“Six this morning.”
“Why?”
He hesitated.
Naomi stood.
“This is where I leave unless Carys wants me.”
“Stay.”
Riston nodded.
He had learned not to object when I wanted counsel in the room.
That had not always been true.
He began:
“Security found unauthorized downloads from Mom’s credentials.”
“What kind?”
“Vendor records. Foundation accounts. Board packages.”
“Why would she need to download them?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Who is we?”
“Internal audit.”
My throat tightened.
“How long?”
“Six weeks.”
I stared.
“You’ve been investigating your mother for six weeks?”
“Yes.”
“And I am finding out because she put a dog collar on our daughter?”
He looked ashamed.
“I wanted you out of it.”
“I am already in it.”
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
That hurt him.
Good.
He continued.
“Three vendors showed unusual payment patterns.”
“How unusual?”
“Enough to review.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Still being reconciled.”
“Riston.”
“Carys, I’m not hiding a confirmed number. I genuinely do not have one.”
That I believed.
“What does your mother have to do with the vendors?”
“She approved exceptions.”
“What exceptions?”
“Competitive bidding. Pricing. reimbursement categories.”
My design firm dealt with procurement.
I understood.
Exceptions were not crimes.
They were where people looked when something smelled wrong.
“Why disable the badge today?”
“Because last night she tried to access the forensic audit folder.”
“Could she?”
“No. Security blocked it.”
“So you deactivated her.”
“Yes.”
“Did she know?”
“I sent formal notice through counsel this morning.”
That explained her fear.
Not the collar.
Not the cruelty.
But the badge.
“What is her actual position?”
Riston looked tired.
“Honorary vice chair. Eleven-percent economic shareholder. No executive authority.”
“She keeps saying she can fire you.”
“She can’t.”
“Could the board?”
“Under defined circumstances.”
“Could shareholders?”
“Not directly. My voting block controls fifty-four percent.”
That was more than I had understood.
“Since when?”
“Four years.”
I stared.
“Before we married?”
“Yes.”
“Why does she talk like she controls the company?”
“Because for most of my childhood, she did.”
“That is not the same question.”
He rubbed his face.
“She never accepted the recapitalization emotionally.”
Recapitalization.
There would be more.
Naomi asked:
“Is Mrs. Sutton’s badge deactivation connected to criminal exposure?”
“We don’t know.”
“Civil?”
“Potentially.”
“Board discipline?”
“Likely.”
I looked at Riston.
“And she threatened your position because?”
“She believes she can rally minority shareholders and directors against me.”
“Can she?”
“She can make noise.”
His mother’s insult returned.
You think keeping her in the dark protects her?
I asked:
“What exactly are you afraid she’ll tell me?”
Riston’s face changed.
That was not the reaction I wanted.
“There are things about the company’s history you don’t know.”
“Your mother knows?”
“Yes.”
“Do they involve me?”
“Not directly.”
“Our daughter?”
“No.”
“Then why did she say that?”
“Because she knows secrecy between us is leverage.”
I looked away.
Accurate.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read.
Went still.
“What?”
He turned the screen.
Internal security alert.
Someone had just tried to log in remotely using his mother’s revoked credentials.
May you like
From a laptop registered to the Sutton Family Foundation.
The foundation I had agreed to chair after maternity leave.
