Chapter 5 - The Second Woman Behind the Promotion
Liam admitted it before Clare could ask.
One night.
Eight months earlier.
Beatrice.
He called through Julia’s office requesting a direct conversation.
Clare agreed to video.
Not in person.
Liam appeared on the screen from a furnished apartment in Manhattan.
He looked thinner.
“I slept with Beatrice once.”
Clare said nothing.
“It was after a client dinner.”
Still nothing.
“I was drunk.”
Clare’s face changed.
Liam immediately corrected himself.
“That’s not an excuse.”
“Good.”
“It didn’t continue.”
“Did you kiss her again?”
Silence.
“Liam.”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Three.”
Clare looked toward the ceiling.
“Did you love her?”
“No.”
“Did she love you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she expect something?”
“Probably.”
“What?”
“My marriage ending.”
That landed strangely.
“Did you tell her it would?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her it wouldn’t?”
Another silence.
Clare almost laughed.
Liam had been living his entire life through omission.
Not saying yes.
Not saying no.
Leaving every door available.
“What was the ninety thousand dollars?”
He looked confused.
“BV Strategy.”
His face changed.
“That was an investment.”
“Into what?”
“She was building a hospitality consulting platform.”
“Why from our joint account?”
“I planned to replace it after bonus season.”
“You never told me.”
“I know.”
“Did Beatrice know it was joint money?”
“I don’t know.”
“You really enjoy that answer.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
Clare leaned forward.
“Was the party supposed to humiliate me into leaving?”
“No.”
“Were you planning to leave me?”
“No.”
“Then what did you want?”
He looked broken.
“I wanted everything.”
There it was.
Promotion.
Mercer access.
Clare.
The baby.
Beatrice’s approval.
His mother’s pride.
The money.
The image.
Everything.
“And when those things conflicted?”
Liam looked down.
“I kept choosing whatever was in front of me.”
Clare’s anger softened into something sadder.
“Exactly.”
She ended the call.
The $90,000 became subject to reimbursement claims in the divorce.
Beatrice’s company returned $52,000 after stating the remaining amount had been spent on legitimate consulting work.
Wittman investigators found no evidence Clare benefited from the services.
The affair itself became public after someone leaked hotel records.
Clare hated that.
Not because she wanted to protect Liam.
Because public humiliation was not healing.
She issued one statement through Julia.
Ms. Mercer will not discuss private marital matters. Her priority is her pregnancy, her students, and ensuring that any financial or professional issues are handled through appropriate legal processes.
For once, the press became bored quickly.
Numbers replaced gossip.
HarborPoint III had deeper issues.
An internal valuation team raised concerns that HarborPoint II properties were being held at values inconsistent with current market conditions.
Nothing automatically criminal.
Private funds use models.
Models can differ.
But emails showed Richard pressured analysts to avoid markdowns before HarborPoint III fundraising.
One wrote:
A Mercer anchor solves the optics until rates normalize.
Another:
Need Liam to deliver family office before Q1.
Clare’s marriage was not the cause of the fund problem.
It was supposed to be the disguise.
Jonathan’s independent investment committee suspended new allocations to Wittman while reviewing existing mandates.
Not withdrawal.
Suspension.
That alone created panic.
Other investors asked questions.
Richard took temporary leave.
Beatrice disappeared from social events.
Liam remained suspended.
Caroline called Clare directly.
Clare almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Clare.”
“What?”
“This has gone far enough.”
“Which part?”
“Liam has lost everything.”
“He has not.”
“His career is destroyed.”
“That investigation is not mine.”
“Your father started it.”
“No.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. You mean no one was supposed to check.”
Caroline inhaled sharply.
“You’ve always looked down on us.”
Clare laughed.
“I taught at Franklin High while your son rented a Mercedes to impress you.”
“That’s exactly my point. You make simplicity into some moral performance.”
“No.”
“You could have lived anywhere.”
“Yes.”
“You could have helped Liam.”
“I did.”
“Not enough.”
There it was.
Clare became quiet.
“How much would have been enough?”
Caroline did not answer.
“Six hundred million?”
Silence.
“A managing-director title?”
Silence.
“A grandson named after Richard VanderCamp?”
“That is cruel.”
“No.”
Clare looked out the apartment window.
“It is specific.”
Caroline’s voice broke.
“I wanted him safe.”
“So did I.”
“You don’t understand what it feels like to lose status.”
“No.”
Clare paused.
“But I understand what it feels like to lose a husband while he’s still alive.”
May you like
Caroline stopped talking.
For the first time, neither woman had anything else to say.
