Chapter 4 - SOPHIE’S LAST VOICEMAIL WAS NOT FOR HER FATHER
Janet arrived at Nathan’s office at 5:40.
She did not bring Peter.
She did not bring Owen.
She brought a lawyer.
Nathan almost admired the efficiency.
The lawyer introduced himself.
“David Mercer.”
“I know who you are.”
Mercer had represented Janet’s husband’s family business years earlier.
Nathan looked at his sister.
“You hired counsel before telling me the truth.”
Janet removed her coat.
“You called accusing me of fraud.”
“I asked who owned Northline.”
“You were not calm.”
“People with forged signatures on eviction notices are rarely calm.”
Mercer intervened.
“Mr. Wells—”
Nathan lifted one hand.
“This is my sister.”
“And my client.”
Nathan looked back at Janet.
“Did you own thirty percent?”
“Yes.”
“Did the foundation board know?”
“The transaction committee knew there was a related-party investor.”
“Your name?”
“The structure was disclosed through JCP.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Janet looked away.
“Not everyone knew.”
“Did I?”
“No.”
“Did Sophie?”
Janet’s mouth tightened.
“Nathan.”
“Did Sophie know?”
“She found things she did not understand.”
“Answer.”
“Yes.”
The word made the room feel smaller.
“When?”
“About six weeks before the accident.”
“What did she find?”
“Emails.”
“Whose?”
“Owen’s.”
“How?”
“She used my home computer.”
Nathan remembered Sophie at Janet’s house constantly.
Janet had been almost a second mother after Grace died.
She picked Sophie up from school.
Took her shopping.
Hosted sleepovers.
Sophie knew every password because Janet trusted family until trust became inconvenient.
“What did the emails say?”
Janet folded her hands.
“That Northline planned rent increases.”
“And?”
“That we were using proceeds from Harbor View in Riverside.”
“And?”
“That some tenant assistance requests needed to be denied during the transition.”
Nathan stared.
“You ordered assistance denials.”
“We did not have legal authority to use foundation funds after the sale.”
“You chose the sale.”
“Yes.”
“To yourself.”
“To an investment vehicle.”
“You owned.”
“Yes.”
Each answer came more quietly.
Nathan leaned back.
“Why?”
Janet looked tired.
“Riverside.”
“What about it?”
“The project was failing.”
“No.”
“It was.”
Nathan frowned.
“Construction hadn’t even started.”
“Exactly.”
Interest rates moved.
The pension fund threatened to reduce commitment.
Environmental remediation cost twice the estimate.
Wells Urban Group could survive.
Janet’s family could not.
Peter Carlisle’s construction company had guaranteed part of the predevelopment financing through a joint venture.
Nathan had never known.
“If Riverside collapsed,” Janet said, “Peter’s company collapsed with it.”
Nathan stared.
“So you used foundation housing.”
“We moved capital from a smaller asset into a larger affordable project.”
“Riverside is thirty percent luxury.”
“And seventy percent workforce and affordable.”
“That does not make Harbor View tenants disposable.”
“No.”
The answer surprised him.
Janet’s face cracked.
“No.”
Nathan asked:
“Did Sophie confront you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That I was stealing from poor people.”
“Was she wrong?”
Mercer said:
“Janet, you don’t need—”
“She was nine.”
Janet ignored her lawyer.
“She had no understanding of leverage, covenants, operating deficits, any of it.”
Nathan felt anger rise.
“She understood Ruby was hungry.”
Janet closed her eyes.
There.
The name.
“You know Ruby.”
“Yes.”
Nathan stood.
“How?”
“Sophie told me.”
“You told me five minutes ago children don’t understand transactions. Apparently they can identify tenants by name.”
“Nathan.”
“What happened with Ruby?”
“Nothing.”
“Elena says otherwise.”
“I never met Elena.”
“That I believe.”
Nathan leaned forward.
“You didn’t have to meet tenants to remove them.”
Janet stood.
Mercer immediately said:
“We’re done for today.”
Nathan ignored him.
“What happened the night Sophie died?”
Janet went still.
“Nathan.”
“You told me she stormed out of my house after our phone call.”
“She did.”
“I wasn’t home.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I was in Boston.”
The memory hit him.
Sophie calling at 6:02 p.m.
“Dad, are you still at the stupid dinner?”
“It’s not a dinner. It’s a client event.”
“You said you’d be home.”
“I’ll be there by nine.”
“You always say later.”
“Sophie.”
“You care more about buildings than people.”
Then she hung up.
Forty-eight minutes later, Janet called.
Sophie had left the house.
At 7:31, police called.
Accident.
North Street.
A delivery van.
Sophie dead at Greenwich Hospital before Nathan’s plane even landed.
For a year, he had believed she left because of him.
He heard her sentence every morning.
You care more about buildings than people.
Nathan said:
“Ruby claims Sophie knew you would say she ran away because she was angry with me.”
Janet looked at Mercer.
Mercer said:
“Do not answer.”
Nathan’s skin went cold.
“You lied.”
Janet grabbed her coat.
“I am not doing this while you’re like this.”
“Like what?”
“Obsessing.”
The word landed badly.
Nathan stared.
Janet softened immediately.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
She reached for him.
Nathan moved back.
His phone buzzed.
Ruby.
Actually Elena’s number.
He answered.
“Elena?”
Ruby’s voice.
“Mr. Wells?”
“What happened?”
“Mom said I could call because I remembered something.”
Nathan looked at Janet.
“What?”
“Sophie left me a voicemail.”
His pulse jumped.
“When?”
“The day she died.”
“Do you still have it?”
“My old phone broke.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“Then—”
“But Mom backed it up.”
Janet’s face changed.
Nathan saw it.
He put Ruby on speaker.
“Ruby, what did Sophie say?”
“I don’t remember all of it.”
“That’s okay.”
“She sounded scared.”
Janet whispered:
“Nathan.”
Ruby continued.
“She said she was going somewhere with Aunt Janet.”
Everything stopped.
Nathan looked at his sister.
Ruby’s voice came through the phone:
“And she said if she didn’t call me by eight, I had to tell you to look in the red folder.”
Janet shut her eyes.
Nathan whispered:
“What red folder?”
May you like
Ruby answered:
“The one Sophie said Aunt Janet was trying to take away from her.”
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