The Photograph
PART 6: "The Photograph"
The photograph was tucked between two financial statements near the back of the folder, as if whoever put it there wanted Catherine to find it last, after she'd already absorbed everything else.
It showed Richard sitting at a table in a restaurant that Catherine recognized — Marea, on Central Park South, the Italian place where Richard took clients he wanted to impress. He was leaning forward, his hand on the table, his fingers touching the wrist of a woman sitting across from him.
The woman was young. Late twenties. Dark blonde hair, red lipstick, a dress that was too expensive for a casual dinner and too casual for a business meeting. She was laughing at something Richard said, and his face had an expression that Catherine knew intimately but hadn't seen directed at her in years.
Attention. Real attention. The focused, deliberate, intoxicating attention that Richard gave to things he wanted.
The date stamp on the photograph was March 15th. Lily's fifth birthday. The day Richard told Catherine he had a board meeting that ran late and couldn't make it home for the party. The day Lily blew out her candles without her father and told Catherine it was okay because Daddy was busy helping people.
Catherine closed the folder.
She didn't cry. She was past crying about Richard. Crying requires some remaining belief that things could be different, and Catherine had burned through that belief the way you burn through a candle — slowly, from both ends, until there's nothing left but a puddle of wax and a black wick.
"Who is she?" Catherine asked.
"Her name is Vanessa Cole. She works at a PR firm that does media strategy for the Hargrove Group. They've been seeing each other for two years."
"Two years."
"Yes."
Catherine looked at the photograph one more time. Then she turned it face down on the desk.
"I don't care about her," she said. And she meant it. The affair was the least important thing in the folder. The custody threats, the financial manipulation, the recorded conversations where Richard discussed how to make Catherine look mentally unstable — those were the weapons. The affair was just noise.
"I need a lawyer," Catherine said. "Not Prescott. Someone who works for me."
"I have someone. Her name is Ruth Chen. She specializes in domestic cases involving high-net-worth individuals. She's won judgments against men who thought they were untouchable."
"Is she good?"
"She's the reason three hedge fund managers in Connecticut are currently paying alimony they swore they'd never pay."
Catherine almost smiled. Almost.
"Call her."
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Keep reading Part 7 — because Richard doesn't wait for lawyers. He shows up at Edward's estate with two security guards and a custody filing that a judge signed at 11 PM. And what Lily does when she sees her father in the driveway is something no one expected.
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