Chapter 13: The Folder

"I am," I said.

I took my hand off the drawer and held it up so he could see it tremble.

"I went looking for a pen. You have a letter opener, a box of mints and no pens."

He didn't move from the doorway.

"So I sat here with twenty pages in front of me," I said. "And I thought about my father."

"And I'm about to sign it over to a family I met in August."

My voice cracked on its own.

I didn't have to fake that part.

Russell's face softened.

He came across the room, took a silver pen from his sweater pocket and set it on the blotter in front of me.

Then he put his hand on my shoulder.

It was warm and heavy, and I didn't flinch.

"Not over," he said. "In. Your father's company is coming in, Yvette. Into the family."

"Is that what this is?"

"That's what I want it to be."

He squeezed once and let go.

I signed the first yellow tab.

His phone buzzed in his hand, and he glanced at it and frowned.

"My head of security," he said. "Your driver is telling him his cameras are in the wrong places. Excuse me before they fight."

He went out through the hall door this time.

Then I opened the second drawer.

I didn't take the folder.

I laid every page flat on the blotter and photographed it with my phone, one after another.

Twenty-two pictures in under two minutes.

Before I closed the drawer, I sent all twenty-two to my lawyer with one line.

"Open the envelope if I don't call you by six."

Her answer came back while the last photo was still uploading.

"Six. Call me at five fifty-nine."

I squared the pages, put the folder back with the label facing out, and closed the drawer.

Then I sat down and signed the third tab, because a woman who'd been alone in that room should have signed three.

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