Chapter 2 - The Word “Us”Derek’s hand stopped inches from the folder.
That movement changed something inside Allison.
Had he reached for Camille, she might have understood it as instinct.
Had he reached for Allison, she might have slapped his hand away.
But he had reached for paperwork.
Her family’s paperwork.
Camille saw Allison notice.
“Derek,” she whispered.
“Don’t,” Derek snapped.
Allison’s eyes moved between them.
“Don’t what?”
Neither answered.
Allison placed the lunch bag carefully on the floor.
The calmness of the movement frightened Camille more than yelling would have.
Derek stepped forward.
“Listen to me.”
“No.”
“Allison, what you walked in on—”
“Was my sister sitting on my husband’s lap.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know what it looked like.”
“That sentence is not going to save you.”
Camille blinked rapidly.
“Allie—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Camille flinched.
Allison had never forbidden her sister from using the childhood nickname before.
Derek glanced toward the open door.
“Can we close that?”
Allison turned.
Keira stood several feet down the hallway, pretending to check a computer mounted on the wall while clearly struggling not to look toward the room.
Allison closed the door.
Then she faced them.
“How long?”
Derek rubbed one hand over his face.
“Allison—”
“How long has my sister been sleeping with you?”
Camille inhaled sharply.
Derek said, “This isn’t the place.”
Allison almost laughed.
“You made a hospital room the place.”
Silence.
She looked at Camille.
“How long?”
Camille’s eyes filled.
“Eleven months.”
The words landed without drama.
No thunder.
No scream.
Just eleven months disappearing behind Allison’s ribs like a knife.
She turned toward Derek.
“You told me you were working late.”
He looked away.
“Some nights.”
“The conference in Phoenix?”
Nothing.
“Thanksgiving weekend when you said you had to finish the lender package?”
Camille whispered, “Allison, please.”
Allison spun toward her.
“You ate Thanksgiving dinner at my table.”
Camille began crying.
“You sat beside me.”
“I know.”
“You asked me whether Derek would like the watch I bought him for Christmas.”
“I know.”
“And then you slept with him?”
Camille covered her mouth.
Derek stepped between them slightly.
“Stop.”
Allison stared at him.
“You don’t get to protect her from me.”
“I’m trying to stop this from turning into something worse.”
Allison looked at the Grant Medical Properties folder.
“It already is.”
Derek followed her gaze.
“It’s business.”
“My business.”
“Technically, Camille’s too.”
Camille closed her eyes.
Allison caught it.
That flicker of guilt.
“What are you doing with company documents?”
“Nothing.”
“Open the folder.”
“No.”
“Derek.”
“You’re angry.”
“You think?”
“And you’re going to interpret everything through that anger.”
Allison walked toward the table.
Derek stepped in front of her.
That was his mistake.
She stopped.
Very quietly, she asked, “Why are you blocking me from my own company records?”
His face changed.
Not much.
But Allison had been married to him for nine years.
She recognized fear.
Camille whispered, “Just tell her.”
Derek turned.
“Camille.”
“She knows about us.”
“Not everything.”
Allison felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
Camille began shaking her head.
Derek’s voice hardened.
“Be careful.”
The warning wasn’t meant for Allison.
It was meant for Camille.
Allison saw that too.
Camille stared at Derek as if she had suddenly realized how trapped she was.
Then she looked at her sister.
“He said we had to fix it before the quarter closed.”
Derek’s face drained.
“Shut up.”
Allison’s stomach tightened.
“Fix what?”
Camille wiped her cheeks.
“I thought you knew some of it.”
“Knew what?”
“The distributions.”
Allison stared at her.
“What distributions?”
Derek grabbed the folder.
Allison caught the other end.
For one brief second, husband and wife stood pulling against each other over documents from the company Allison’s father had built for thirty-two years.
Then a sheet slipped free.
It floated to the floor.
Allison looked down.
At the top was the name of Grant Medical Properties’ largest asset:
WELLINGTON MEDICAL PLAZA.
Below it:
PROPOSED REFINANCING — $2,800,000.
And beneath that was a signature.
Her signature.
Except Allison had never signed it.
She slowly looked up.
Derek had stopped breathing.
Camille whispered one word.
“Allison…”
Allison crouched, picked up the page, and examined the signature again.
It looked almost perfect.
Almost.
But her father had taught her to sign important documents in blue ink and add a tiny break in the final stroke of the H in Hale.
This signature had no break.
May you like
She raised her eyes to Derek.
“The affair,” she said softly, “is no longer the biggest problem in this room.”
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