I read it twice. There was no elegant way to misunderstand it. Ryan had told his associates that he expected my husband to become angry in public, that a camera would capture the moment, and that I would be emotionally isolated afterward. Then he had written: She believes she's choosing me. Don't correct that.
My mouth felt dry. "Ryan," I said, "what is this?"
He looked at the screen and gave a small, contemptuous laugh. "Really? You're trusting a screenshot now? Anybody can type a message."
"It's from your project thread," Ethan said. His voice remained measured, but I could hear the effort in it. "The attorney has the records. Sofia kept copies of what she was sent as part of her work. There are invoices too, and a booking for a meeting room downstairs."
Ryan lifted his hand from my waist and made an expansive gesture toward the crowd, as if the people standing nearby were a jury that could be won by confidence alone. "You brought an attorney into a disagreement between adults? That's pathetic. Claire and I are together. Whatever business you've got with me doesn't change that."
"That wasn't the question," Ethan said. "Tell her why it had to be this hotel. Tell her what you planned to show the people downstairs after I reacted."
A man standing near the far end of the bar abruptly turned away. I recognized him from a lunch with Ryan several months earlier: Oliver Madsen, a property consultant who had introduced himself as a member of a Westbridge acquisition team. He had insisted that Alder Street Sound was the perfect location for a new hospitality project. Now he was pressing his phone to his ear and moving toward the corridor without finishing his drink.
I watched Oliver disappear and felt something cold move through my chest. "Westbridge is here?" I asked Ryan.
He didn't answer. I looked at Ethan instead, and his expression made it clear that he had spent the morning learning a truth he would have preferred never to know. I remembered the restaurant booth, the mock-up, the limited authorization I had signed, and every occasion when I had assured Ethan that Ryan was simply trying to help us.
"What does any of this have to do with me?" I asked, knowing as I said it that it was a foolish question. "I didn't agree to sell Alder Street."
"No," Ethan replied. "You agreed to let Ryan into our information. Somebody used that access to set up questionable payments and present the idea of a sale as further along than it was. Dana caught it. Some of the payments were stopped before they cleared. Others are being reviewed."
"I never approved those payments."
"Then you need to say that to your attorney, clearly and completely. You also need to be honest about what you did authorize."
Ryan reached for my elbow. "Claire, don't let him talk you into confessing to something you didn't do. This is how he controls people. He takes a normal arrangement and makes it sound criminal."