“So that’s it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re throwing away eight months because a child misunderstood a phone call?”
I turned toward him.
“No. Abigail made me stop long enough to look at what you were doing.”
He laughed once, bitterly.
“Christopher finally got what he wanted.”
Christopher answered before I could.
“No. Alison did.”
It was the only thing he said to Gregory that day.
I carried the box out.
The following weeks were less dramatic than the confrontation and more exhausting.
Passwords had to be changed again.
Accounts had to be checked.
Documents had to be reviewed.
I made sure no sale or transfer could proceed without my direct participation.
The proposed agreement went nowhere.
Whatever Gregory had promised the other party, I had never signed it.
That fact became the solid ground beneath everything else.
I also learned how many tiny pieces of my life Gregory had been managing under the label of helping.
