Chapter 11 - COLETTE CHANGES THE STORYFor three days Colette refused to discuss the money.
Then she changed tactics.
She became reasonable.
At breakfast she entered Malcolm’s study carrying coffee.
“I want to explain.”
He did not invite her to sit.
She sat anyway.
“The spending was personal.”
“I know.”
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“But I wasn’t stealing.”
“You disguised it.”
“I moved expenses.”
“Under former employees’ names.”
“The household system is messy.”
“You used my authorization.”
“I had your password.”
“That is not permission.”
“You told me to manage the house.”
Malcolm stared at her.
“Do you hear yourself?”
She looked away.
“We were having problems.”
“What problems?”
“You were never home.”
Again, true enough to hurt.
“So you hid purchases?”
“I didn’t want another lecture about spending.”
“I have never restricted you financially.”
“No. You just make everything feel like an audit.”
Malcolm almost smiled at the irony.
“And Denise?”
“What about her?”
“She found the charges.”
Colette hesitated.
“She misunderstood.”
“Did you put cash in her locker?”
“No.”
“Carla?”
“She was inappropriate with Blake.”
“You accused her of theft.”
“I thought she stole the bracelet.”
“And when you discovered she didn’t?”
“I had already fired her.”
“So truth became inconvenient.”
Colette stood.
“This is not a courtroom.”
“Not yet.”
She froze.
Malcolm watched the sentence land.
“I’m having counsel review the unauthorized approvals.”
Her face hardened.
“You would involve lawyers against your own wife?”
“If my name was used without permission, yes.”
“You’re insane.”
“Maybe.”
“Rosa did this.”
There it was again.
Malcolm leaned back.
“How?”
“She poisoned you.”
“She gave me one photograph.”
“Exactly.”
“One photograph does not create six years of transactions.”
“She knew what she was doing.”
“Why are you so obsessed with her?”
“Because she is obsessed with us.”
“No.”
Malcolm stood.
“Every time I ask you about money, you talk about Rosa.”
“Because she started this!”
“No. The records existed before Rosa saw them.”
Colette’s eyes flashed.
“She wanted to damage me.”
“Why?”
“Jealousy.”
“Of what?”
“Our life.”
Malcolm stared.
“You really believe that.”
“Of course.”
“Denise too?”
“Probably.”
“Carla?”
“She wanted my son.”
“Thomas?”
She stopped.
Malcolm’s voice lowered.
“Who was Thomas Reed?”
“The gardener.”
“Why was he fired?”
“He quit.”
“No.”
Colette’s expression changed.
“I spoke to his former supervisor.”
“You what?”
“He was dismissed after you accused him of taking cash from an envelope left in the mudroom.”
Colette folded her arms.
“He did.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Or did he see something too?”
She said nothing.
Malcolm felt a terrible clarity.
This was not about one theft.
Or three.
It was about control.
The same method.
A person saw something inconvenient.
Colette questioned their character.
They disappeared.
And Malcolm never asked.
He had trusted the person with the highest social status in the room.
Every time.
The doorbell rang.
Blake came downstairs.
“I’ll get it.”
Malcolm opened the door first.
Helen stood outside.
She looked from him to Colette.
“I came for Blake.”
Colette frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Malcolm asked if he could spend the afternoon with me.”
“You arranged that without asking me?”
Helen’s expression sharpened.
“He’s my nephew, Colette. Not a diplomatic asset.”
Blake grabbed his backpack.
Colette walked toward him.
“Sweetheart, we need to talk.”
He stepped behind Helen.
The movement was subtle.
But devastating.
Colette stopped.
“I’ll see you later, Mom.”
Helen led him outside.
As the door closed, Colette turned on Malcolm.
“You did this.”
“No.”
“He’s afraid to talk to me.”
“He’s afraid you’ll tell him something else that isn’t true.”
Her face changed.
Malcolm regretted nothing about the sentence.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Colette said quietly:
“You think Rosa is innocent because she cries nicely.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Rosa didn’t cry.”
That was true.
“She stood there soaked after our son hit her, and she still did not insult him.”
He stepped closer.
“You cried.”
May you like
Colette stared.
“And somehow,” Malcolm continued, “you were still the cruelest person in the room.”
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