A Meeting at Noon

Marianne suggested a video call. Before accepting, I asked Priya whether there was any reason to avoid it. She said I could speak with Marianne, but reminded me not to sign documents or rely on a colleague's account as the only source of financial information.

Marianne appeared on the screen in a plain office with a plant behind her. She was older than I had imagined, with silver at her temples and a stack of folders on the desk. Her cream coat hung on the back of the door.

“I should have written sooner,” she said. “Victor said you preferred privacy. Then I heard him tell you the same story he told everyone else, and I realized privacy wasn't the whole explanation.”

“What story?”

“That his family was staying outside the city because of unresolved threats.”

“Were there threats?”

“There were disputes after the company split from a former partner. I don't know what was said to you privately. I do know the company completed its legal settlement three years ago. Since then we've used ordinary security for the office and public events.”

She offered to send public records and the company's annual filings. She also said she could not disclose confidential business information without proper authorization. I appreciated that boundary. I did not want another person to break a rule on my behalf and call it loyalty.

“Why did you stay quiet?” I asked.

“I challenged him at work. I didn't know how to contact you without crossing into your private life. I should have been more direct about the public impression we created.”

She explained that she and Victor had been photographed together at several events. When a newspaper referred to her as his companion, she asked for a correction. Victor said he would handle it, but the correction never appeared. She had since avoided events where the misunderstanding was likely.

I thanked her for telling me. We were not instant friends. I still felt the sting of seeing her in a place from which I had been excluded. But I could direct my anger toward the person who had made promises to me rather than toward a woman I barely knew.

After the call I forwarded the public documents to Priya. She suggested requesting the remaining financial records through the appropriate process. She also advised me to keep my own copies of documents I already had access to and not enter accounts I was not authorized to use.

Victor asked again to meet. I chose a café near Priya's office at noon, with Ruth available nearby. I told him I wanted to discuss our living arrangement and something personal. He agreed not to bring security staff into the café.

On the morning of the meeting, I attended my medical appointment. The clinician answered my questions and explained the next steps for routine care. I left with a follow-up date and a list of questions for later. Ruth waited in the car and did not ask for details I did not offer.

At the café Victor stood when I entered. He looked tired, and for a moment I remembered the man who had once driven across town to bring me soup when I was ill. That memory was real. It did not cancel the years that followed.

I placed the envelope between us. “I'm pregnant,” I said.

He stared at it, then at me. “Are you all right?”

“I'm receiving care.”

He reached toward my hand, then stopped. “May I?”

I nodded. He held my hand carefully, as though asking first were a skill he was learning in real time.