Chapter 14 - Brooke's Version
Brooke's second interview lasted five hours.
Her lawyer terminated it twice.
Each time, Brooke asked to continue.
By evening, her story changed.
Yes, Corinne had discussed physically frightening Lila.
Yes, she had described a shove.
No, Brooke had not believed Corinne would actually do it.
Yes, Brooke had said, "Don't do that."
Why?
Because Corinne had shifted forward in the lounger.
Why had that looked dangerous?
Brooke didn't know.
Ruiz kept asking.
Finally, Brooke cried.
"Because she practiced."
The room went still.
"Practiced what?"
"How hard she'd push."
"On whom?"
"No one."
"Then how?"
"With a chair cushion."
Brooke covered her face.
"At Sloane's apartment."
Two nights before the yacht.
Corinne had placed a cushion upright.
She pushed it.
Once lightly.
Then harder.
She asked whether the second looked accidental.
Brooke had told her the whole thing was insane.
Tessa had joked that Corinne looked like "a soccer mom fighting a mattress."
Sloane had laughed.
Then Corinne said:
"She only needs enough momentum to reach the edge."
Ruiz asked, "And you still attended the yacht party?"
Brooke whispered, "Yes."
"Why?"
"I thought she was performing."
"What does that mean?"
"Corinne says horrible things when she's angry."
"And that made you comfortable?"
"No."
"But you went."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Brooke looked down.
"Because I needed the contracts."
There it was.
Not ignorance.
Price.
Everyone had one.
Brooke's was two million dollars and the survival of her company.
Sloane's was influence and fees.
Tessa's was access.
Corinne's was twenty million and control.
Hale's was Cole Maritime itself.
And Adrian?
He wondered what his price had been.
Maybe peace.
Maybe wanting to believe his second marriage could repair the life grief had cracked open.
Maybe he had paid with attention.
When prosecutors offered Brooke a cooperation agreement contingent on truthful testimony, public reaction turned savage.
People wanted her charged as harshly as Corinne.
Adrian understood.
He wanted that too.
But Ruiz explained the reality.
"You want convictions?"
"Yes."
"Then witnesses matter."
"She watched my daughter hanging off a yacht."
"I know."
"There it is again."
"What?"
"Everybody says they know."
Ruiz leaned back.
"Would you prefer I pretend I understand how that feels?"
Adrian was quiet.
"No."
"Then don't confuse a legal deal with forgiveness."
He looked at her.
"Are you asking me to support it?"
"No. I'm telling you this isn't yours to carry."
That was surprisingly kind.
He resented it anyway.
That night, Adrian received a video call from Simone's mother, Evelyn Bennett.
She had heard enough.
She wanted Lila with her in Savannah.
"Only until things settle."
"They're settled here."
"Your wife tried to kill her."
"My wife doesn't live here."
"Your judgment brought that woman in."
Adrian flinched.
Evelyn saw it.
Didn't apologize.
"I loved Simone."
"So did I."
"Then protect her child."
"She is my child."
"I know that."
"No. I don't think you do."
Evelyn's face hardened.
"Don't start."
"I spent three years raising Lila after Simone died. I was awake every fever, every nightmare, every morning she asked where her mother went. You don't get to show up after the worst night of our lives and imply I'm temporary."
Evelyn's eyes softened.
"I didn't mean that."
"You did."
Silence.
Then Evelyn said, "I'm scared."
So was he.
That changed the conversation.
Adrian leaned back.
"Me too."
Evelyn wiped her eyes.
"Simone would haunt you if you let anything happen to that baby."
A broken laugh escaped him.
"She'd haunt me for my cooking first."
Evelyn smiled.
"True."
For ten minutes they talked like family instead of opposing armies.
Before hanging up, Evelyn said, "Adrian."
"Yeah?"
"There's something Simone left with me."
He frowned.
"What?"
"A letter."
"For Lila?"
"No."
Evelyn looked uneasy.
"For you."
"Why have you never given it to me?"
"Because she told me not to unless you ever confused love with being needed."
Adrian went completely still.
"That's a strange instruction."
"She knew you."
"What does it say?"
Evelyn shook her head.
"I'm bringing it tomorrow."
After the call ended, Adrian stared at the blank screen.
For the first time, the past was about to speak.
May you like
And he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it.
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