Chapter 5 - HomecomingRachel changed the locks on her office.
Not the house.
Maya advised against anything that might look like an attempt to unlawfully exclude Michael from marital property before they understood the legal situation.
Instead, Rachel moved every original Bellamy document from the home study into a locked storage room at Maya’s firm.
She also changed the passwords to her personal accounts.
At 12:26 p.m., Michael came home.
Rachel heard the garage door.
Then his footsteps.
No suitcase.
No hesitation.
He entered the kitchen wearing the same gray trousers he had worn at the hospital, his dress shirt open at the collar.
For a sick man, he looked remarkably composed.
“You moved things.”
Rachel sat at the breakfast table.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
Michael laughed softly.
“You're treating me like a criminal now?”
Rachel looked at him.
“You forged my signature.”
“I did not.”
“You submitted documents with signatures I didn't make.”
“Those are not the same statement.”
Rachel stared.
Michael realized he had revealed too much.
He pulled out a chair.
“Can we stop performing and talk like adults?”
“Who signed them?”
“You.”
“No.”
“You don't remember.”
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“The memory problem.”
Michael leaned back.
“You have been overwhelmed since your father died.”
“Three years ago.”
“Grief doesn't have an expiration date.”
Rachel felt anger rise.
Michael saw it.
He always saw it.
And as always, he became softer.
“You've been sleeping badly.”
“Don't diagnose me.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Don't.”
“I’m still your husband.”
Rachel looked at his left hand.
Wedding ring.
Still there.
“Does Claire know that?”
Michael’s expression closed.
“Claire and I made mistakes.”
“A mistake is forgetting an anniversary.”
Rachel kept her voice low.
“Putting your girlfriend in a hospital file as your spouse for six months requires repetition.”
“She is not my girlfriend.”
Rachel said nothing.
Michael rubbed his jaw.
“Our relationship is complicated.”
“So complicated that she witnessed a document supposedly signed by me?”
Michael’s eyes sharpened.
Rachel continued.
“Maya has it.”
He looked away.
That told her more than an admission.
“What did you do with Dana?”
“Nothing.”
“She gave you a proxy.”
“She signed it willingly.”
“Because you lied about what it was.”
“I explained it.”
“You told her I approved it.”
“You had approved the broader strategy.”
“No, Michael.”
He slammed his palm against the table.
The sound made Rachel jump.
Michael saw it.
For a second, something close to regret crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
“You walked away from Bellamy,” he said.
Rachel stared at him.
“You inherited control and then walked away.”
“My father died.”
“And the company didn't.”
The cruelty was quiet.
Michael leaned forward.
“Do you know who kept three hundred employees paid while you couldn't enter the executive floor without crying?”
Rachel’s eyes burned.
Michael continued.
“I did.”
“Yes.”
“Who renegotiated distribution contracts?”
“You.”
“Who expanded into Tennessee?”
“You.”
“Who dealt with the recall?”
“You.”
“And who still owns fifty-one percent because of her last name?”
Rachel’s tears disappeared before they could fall.
There it was.
Not love.
Not remorse.
Resentment.
Old, deep resentment.
“You think Bellamy should be yours.”
Michael shook his head.
“I think I earned a voice.”
“You had one.”
“I had permission.”
He stood.
“There's a difference.”
Rachel looked at the man she had married.
She remembered their first apartment.
Michael assembling shelves at midnight.
Michael holding her father's hand during chemotherapy.
Michael dancing barefoot with her in the kitchen after Bellamy landed its first national grocery account.
Were those memories false?
Or had love simply rotted into entitlement?
“When did Claire begin?”
Michael stared toward the window.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to know which memories still belong to me.”
Something in Michael’s face weakened.
“Eighteen months.”
Rachel breathed in slowly.
Northstar’s first contract.
Of course.
“Did you love her?”
Michael didn't answer.
Rachel nodded.
“Fine.”
She stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Upstairs.”
“Rachel, we need to talk about Bellamy.”
“No. You need Bellamy.”
She started toward the staircase.
Michael’s voice stopped her.
“If you blow up the Hollis transaction, the company may not survive.”
Rachel turned.
“Why?”
“Because our credit position is worse than you think.”
Her stomach tightened.
“How much worse?”
“We need liquidity.”
“How much?”
“Twenty million.”
Rachel stared.
Bellamy was profitable.
At least according to every quarterly report she had received.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
Rachel saw something in his face.
Not panic.
Challenge.
She returned to the table.
“Show me.”
Michael shook his head.
“You suspended my access.”
“The cybersecurity team did.”
“On your instruction?”
Silence.
“Show me the real numbers.”
“You won't understand them without context.”
Rachel almost smiled.
“Try me.”
Michael studied her for a long moment.
Then he said, “If you want the truth, call Noah Grant.”
Rachel frowned.
Noah had been Bellamy’s controller for eleven years.
“What about him?”
“He resigned this morning.”
Rachel’s pulse jumped.
“Why?”
“Ask him.”
Michael walked toward the stairs.
Rachel grabbed her phone.
“Noah?”
Michael stopped.
His shoulders stiffened.
Rachel noticed.
She found Noah’s number and called.
Voicemail.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Then a text came from an unknown number.
RACHEL, DO NOT USE YOUR COMPANY EMAIL. DO NOT DISCUSS NUMBERS WITH MICHAEL. I HAVE COPIES. — NOAH
Rachel looked up.
Michael was watching her.
Neither spoke.
Rachel slowly turned the phone facedown.
Michael smiled faintly.
“Everything okay?”
Rachel met his eyes.
For the first time, she lied easily.
“Voicemail.”
Michael continued upstairs.
Rachel waited until he disappeared.
Then she looked at Noah’s message again.
I HAVE COPIES.
May you like
Whatever Michael had done to Bellamy, someone else had already seen it.
And that person was apparently afraid to say so where Michael could hear.
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