Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO HAD TURNED RUBY INTO A BUSINESS PLAN
Nicole arrived at Miles’s penthouse at eleven.
She did not know Ethan was there.
She definitely did not know two independent trust attorneys were sitting in the library.
Miles had asked Ruby whether she wanted to spend the morning with her grandmother.
She said no.
Then asked if Jessica could come over.
Miles almost said that Jessica had a job.
Then remembered what he was trying to learn.
So he said:
“She probably does.”
Ruby nodded.
“Okay.”
No guilt.
Progress, perhaps.
His mother, Margaret, came instead.
She had adored Laura.
Nicole had always claimed Margaret made her uncomfortable because “there’s no room for another woman when the dead one is still perfect.”
Maybe that should have told Miles something.
Ruby went upstairs with Margaret and Bunny.
Nicole entered the library.
She looked at Ethan.
Then the attorneys.
Then Miles.
“What is this?”
“Sit down.”
She did not.
“Miles.”
“The engagement is over.”
Her face changed.
Not shock.
She had probably expected anger after the restaurant.
Not finality.
“You’re doing this because Ruby lied about a shoe?”
Miles placed the withdrawal request on the table.
Nicole stopped.
Then the Everwood invoices.
Her eyes changed again.
Finally, Jessica’s envelope.
Nicole looked at it for only half a second.
Enough.
Miles saw recognition.
“Which problem would you like to explain first?”
She folded her arms.
“You’ve already decided.”
“Yes.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because Ethan advised me not to have this conversation without witnesses.”
Ethan almost smiled.
Nicole looked toward him.
“You think I stole from a child?”
“I think one-point-eight million dollars left Ruby’s trust under approvals I did not make.”
Nicole’s expression hardened.
“You authorized me to manage family expenses.”
“Not her trust.”
“You never read anything.”
The words hit.
True.
Nicole saw that.
Pressed.
“You told me to handle Ruby because you couldn’t.”
“I told you to help.”
“What’s the difference?”
“A lot.”
“Not from where I stood.”
She stepped closer.
“You were never home.”
“I know.”
“You missed parent conferences.”
“I know.”
“You forgot the spring recital.”
“I know.”
“You made me the bad guy every time I enforced a rule because you floated in with presents twice a week.”
Miles said nothing.
Parts were true.
Nicole continued.
“I arranged school.”
“Yes.”
“Doctors.”
“Yes.”
“Clothes.”
“Yes.”
“Meals.”
“Yes.”
“And now one dramatic night makes me a monster?”
“No.”
His voice remained quiet.
“The fraud helps.”
Her face hardened.
“Those services were legitimate.”
“Ruby never received them.”
“They were family planning services.”
“For whom?”
“For me.”
There.
Nicole heard herself.
Ethan did too.
She corrected.
“For the household.”
“Paid by my daughter’s trust.”
“Because every problem in the household revolved around her adjustment.”
Miles stared.
“No.”
Nicole laughed bitterly.
“You think that because you weren’t there.”
He took that.
Did not defend.
Then he asked:
“Why Everwood?”
Her expression shifted.
“Because Ruby needs structure.”
“She needs ballet and her mother’s blanket.”
“She needs to stop using Laura as a weapon every time she dislikes me.”
Miles stood.
“She is six.”
“She knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“Do you hear yourself?”
Nicole’s eyes flashed.
“Every time I told her no, she said Mommy wouldn’t.”
“She misses her mother.”
“And I am tired of competing with a dead woman.”
Silence.
There.
Not the full motive.
The emotional one.
Nicole looked away.
“I tried.”
Miles believed that too.
At first.
Maybe she had.
That was what made gradual cruelty dangerous.
People rarely wake up deciding to become monsters.
They excuse one selfish choice.
Then another.
Eventually an eight-year-old? Ruby is six. six-year-old is hiding under a table.
Miles pushed another document forward.
“Did you ask the trust office whether marriage would make you Ruby’s successor guardian?”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed.
“Estate planning.”
“Did you ask whether guardians could approve residential payments?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if something happened to you, I would be responsible for her.”
“No.”
That surprised her.
“What?”
“Laura’s trust appoints an independent guardian for financial matters if I die.”
Nicole went still.
Apparently she had been working from an older estate summary.
Miles continued.
“You would have no control.”
Her face went pale.
There.
More than surprise.
A failed plan.
“What did you think marriage gave you?”
“Miles—”
“What?”
She looked toward Ethan.
“This is humiliating.”
“Interesting word.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I wanted legal stability.”
“For yourself?”
“For our future.”
“What future?”
She finally sat.
“My brother’s company is struggling.”
There.
Grant Cole.
Everwood.
“Grant needed bridge financing.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“So you billed Ruby’s trust?”
“No.”
Nicole looked angry now.
“Everwood delivered consulting work.”
“To whom?”
“Me.”
“And why should Ruby pay?”
“Because the work involved her.”
Miles felt sick.
Nicole continued as if explaining something reasonable.
“If we married, Everwood would become part of our family-philanthropy strategy. We could expand behavioral services nationally.”
“We?”
“Yes.”
“You planned to use my company?”
“I planned to create something useful.”
“With Ruby’s trust as seed money.”
Silence.
Ethan said quietly:
“That sounds remarkably close to self-dealing.”
Nicole looked at him.
“Nothing was finalized.”
“The $1.8 million was.”
She stood.
“I’m done.”
Miles remained still.
“You are leaving the penthouse today.”
Her face changed.
“We live here together.”
“I own it.”
“You can’t throw me out.”
“You have an apartment.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“The point is you threw my daughter’s ballet slipper into an alley because Laura bought it.”
Nicole’s expression tightened.
“She kept screaming.”
“She was crying.”
“She called me a liar.”
“Were you?”
Silence.
“Did you tell her I didn’t want calls?”
Nicole looked away.
“Sometimes you didn’t.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“You complained about interruptions.”
“When?”
“When you were negotiating the Fontaine hotel purchase.”
Nine months earlier.
Miles had snapped once after three calls during a board meeting.
He remembered saying:
“Can someone please handle something without pulling me out of the room?”
Nicole had apparently built a parenting policy out of one bad sentence.
Again.
His own failure did not make her choices innocent.
But it made them possible.
“I said one awful thing.”
“You meant it.”
“For ten minutes.”
“She heard the rule for months.”
Miles stopped.
Ruby.
Trying to cost less.
Nicole continued:
“You don’t get to disappear into work and then become Father of the Year because you caught me being impatient.”
He looked at her.
“You’re right.”
She froze.
He continued.
“I failed Ruby.”
Nicole almost smiled.
Then:
“And you hurt her.”
Her smile vanished.
“Both can be true.”
Ethan slid a legal notice across the table.
Effective immediately, Nicole was removed from all family-office permissions.
Her access to Harrington properties revoked.
Her authority over Ruby’s school and medical portals canceled.
Trust auditors had referred questionable payments for independent review.
Nicole stared.
“You called investigators?”
“Not police.”
“Yet,” Ethan added.
Miles gave him a look.
Nicole laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Then she said something that changed everything.
“Fine. Ask Ruby why she went into the alley.”
Miles went still.
“What?”
Nicole smiled without warmth.
“She didn’t tell you everything.”
His chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“Ask her what she was looking for.”
Nicole picked up her purse.
Then stopped at the door.
“And ask Jessica why she really works at your restaurant.”
Miles stared.
“What does Jessica have to do with this?”
Nicole looked almost pleased.
“She knows Everwood.”
Then she left.
Miles immediately went upstairs.
Ruby sat on the floor with Margaret coloring.
He crouched.
“Bug?”
She looked up.
“Did Nicole leave?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
He swallowed.
“From our home, yes.”
Ruby stared at the paper.
Then slowly nodded.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Okay.”
“Why were you near the alley?”
Her crayon stopped.
Margaret looked toward him.
Ruby’s voice became small.
“I was getting Bunny.”
Miles frowned.
“Bunny was at home.”
She shook her head.
“Not my Bunny.”
“What?”
“The other one.”
She reached into her ballet bag.
From the bottom, she pulled a small white stuffed rabbit Miles had never seen.
One ear was torn.
On its stomach was embroidered:
EVERWOOD.
Miles stared.
“Where did this come from?”
Ruby looked frightened.
“Nicole gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
“Why?”
“She said I was going to live there after the wedding.”
His blood went cold.
“What?”
Ruby’s eyes filled.
“She said if I was good, maybe I could come home for Christmas.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Miles felt the room tilt.
“Did she say I knew?”
Ruby nodded.
“She said it was your idea.”
He closed his eyes.
The withdrawal request.
Residential services.
The forged signature.
The trust payments.
Nicole had not been considering Everwood.
She had already told Ruby she was going.
“When were you looking for the rabbit?”
“I threw it away.”
“Why?”
Ruby whispered:
“Because I thought if I didn’t have it, maybe I couldn’t go.”
Miles pulled her into his arms.
She stiffened for one second.
Then held him.
And downstairs, Ethan called with the result of the first forensic review.
Everwood had prepared enrollment papers for Ruby.
Start date:
Nine days after Miles and Nicole’s wedding.
The signature approving placement was already there.
MILES HARRINGTON.
May you like
Forged.
Again.
Related Stories
