Chapter Seven: His Last Bargain
Matthew was denied immediate release after prosecutors presented evidence that he had attempted to transfer money and pressure a witness.
His attorneys appealed.
For eleven days, he remained in custody.
On the twelfth, he requested a meeting.
Not with my father.
Not with prosecutors.
With me.
Detective Brooks advised against it.
My father said the decision was mine.
I agreed under strict conditions.
The meeting took place through reinforced glass.
Matthew entered wearing a gray detention uniform.
Without the suit, watch, office, assistants, and carefully designed lighting, he looked smaller.
Ordinary.
That frightened me in a new way.
Monsters rarely looked like monsters.
Often, they looked like men who complained about traffic and forgot to buy milk.
He sat.
I remained standing.
His eyes moved toward the medical cane in my hand.
“Dramatic.”
I nearly smiled.
Even now, he needed to make my pain an accusation against him.
“You asked to see me.”
“I want to protect you.”
“From what?”
“Your father.”
I stared at him.
“He doesn’t love you, Clare. He loves control.”
“You intercepted his letters.”
Matthew’s expression did not change.
“I protected our marriage.”
“You changed my building permissions.”
“You were running back to him every time we argued.”
“I never knew he came.”
“You would have left.”
“Yes.”
The answer startled him.
I continued.
“If I had known the truth, I would have left.”
His jaw tightened.
“Lauren manipulated those documents.”
“She copied my signature because you told her to.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Adrian Velez can.”
For the first time, real fear appeared.
“You always were too trusting,” he said.
“And you mistook trust for stupidity.”
“I built NexusCore.”
“No. You presented it.”
“I turned it into an empire.”
“With stolen work and borrowed money.”
His hand curled into a fist.
“You think your father will give it to you?”
“I don’t want him to give me anything.”
“Then why are you joining the board?”
News traveled quickly, even behind locked doors.
“I’m taking back my name.”
“You’re still Clare Hayes.”
“Not for much longer.”
His face hardened.
“You’ll regret humiliating me.”
I lowered myself into the chair.
The movement was slow, but I refused his satisfaction of seeing me struggle.
“You said something similar before you struck me.”
“That night was a mistake.”
“No. A mistake is missing an exit on the highway. You made twenty separate choices.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You counted?”
“Every one.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then Matthew changed tactics.
His expression softened.
The anger disappeared.
His voice dropped into the gentle tone he had used when we were young.
“I loved you.”
I almost believed him.
Not because the words were true.
Because I remembered the girl who once needed them to be.
“You loved what I could build for you.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“You made sure I had no family, no financial independence, no title, and no proof that my work belonged to me.”
“We were partners.”
“Partners share credit.”
“I was under pressure.”
“Pressure reveals character. It doesn’t create it.”
He leaned closer to the glass.
“Lauren meant nothing.”
“You planned a child with her.”
His eyes flickered.
“That was complicated.”
“No. It was expensive.”
“Clare—”
“You paid for it with company funds.”
“I was going to repay everything.”
“With what? My patents?”
His breathing changed.
“You don’t understand the company’s position.”
“I understand it better than you think.”
“If Sterling Capital enforces the debt, NexusCore could collapse.”
“Then cooperate.”
“With your father?”
“With investigators.”
He stared at me.
“You came here to threaten me.”
“No. I came to hear whether you could speak one honest sentence.”
“And?”
“You couldn’t.”
I stood.
Matthew pressed both hands against the ledge beneath the glass.
“Clare, wait.”
I turned.
He looked desperate now.
Not remorseful.
Desperate.
“I have information about Lauren.”
“Give it to your attorney.”
“She planned to replace me.”
“So did you.”
“She has recordings of board members, politicians, investors. People your father works with.”
“Then cooperate.”
“I need protection.”
“You had my protection for seven years.”
My hand tightened around the cane.
“You used it to destroy me.”
I walked toward the door.
Behind me, he shouted my name.
I did not turn around.
That was the first time I truly left Matthew Hayes.
Not when police arrested him.
Not when I moved to Greenwich.
May you like
Not when my attorney filed for divorce.
I left him when his voice no longer had the power to make me stop.
