Chapter 18: The Leak

Claire stood in the dining room doorway with her hand over her mouth.

The fallen chair lay at her feet, and she did not pick it up.

My sister looked past me and saw her.

"You," she said.

Claire did not answer.

"A dozen times I called that office," my sister said. "A dozen. A woman told me, 'Mr. Ames has asked not to be contacted.' I thought you hated me."

"I never hated you," I said.

"I know that now."

She turned and looked at the dining room, at the plates and the silver and Claire's mother sitting rigid at the table.

"I'm not staying for dinner," she said. "Nate, I have a room at a motel on Harlem Avenue. Come with me."

I took my coat from the hook.

Behind us, Claire said, in a voice I could barely hear, "I'm sorry."

My sister did not turn around.

I did not either.

But I saw Darius in the hall mirror as we went out, standing by the open front door with his smile gone, and I saw him take out his phone.

On Monday morning there were reporters on the pavement outside Rowan Group.

I saw nine from the window of my office, with cameras on tripods and a van from a morning show.

The receptionist came to my door with her face pale.

"Mr. Ames, you need to see this."

She held out her tablet.

The headline on a business site said: ROWAN CEO LURES RIVAL'S HUSBAND, SOURCES SAY AFFAIR BEGAN BEFORE IPO.

Under it was a photograph.

It was dark and wet, taken through a windshield from across a street. A gray sedan sat at a curb in the rain.

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