Chapter 9 - WHAT GRANT WANTED BACK
Grant came to see me four days later.
I was staying in my father’s old townhouse near the company headquarters.
For once, Grant called before arriving.
I almost respected that.
We sat across from each other in the living room.
No lawyers.
No board members.
No parents.
No brother.
Just a husband and wife discovering what remained after the power struggle disappeared.
“You planned all of this,” he said.
“No.”
“You boarded that plane knowing they were suspending me.”
“Yes.”
“You could have warned me.”
I stared at him.
“You sent papers to my hospital room.”
He looked down.
“I was under pressure.”
“So was I.”
“I made mistakes.”
“Many.”
His eyes hardened briefly.
Then softened again.
“Claire, I can fix the company issues.”
“This isn’t only the company.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He leaned forward.
“I love you.”
I believed him.
That was probably the saddest part.
Grant loved me according to the limits of the world he had built inside his own head.
He loved me as long as my independence did not disrupt his plans.
As long as my family legacy became his authority.
As long as my trust looked like compliance.
“I believe you love me,” I said.
Hope flashed across his face.
“But I don’t believe you respect me.”
The hope disappeared.
“Claire—”
“You thought I would sign because you told yourself I didn’t understand the paperwork.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“You said it on a recorded call.”
He closed his eyes.
I continued.
“When I became sick, you chose Scott’s deadline.”
“He’s my brother.”
“I was your wife.”
Silence.
“And that’s what you still don’t understand. You keep explaining why they mattered. You never ask why I didn’t.”
Grant sat back.
For the first time, he had nothing to say.
Before leaving, he asked whether I would support his return as CEO if the investigation cleared him of criminal wrongdoing.
I almost laughed.
“You’re still asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
“Whether you deserve my trust even if you never broke a law.”
He stared at me.
May you like
Then left.
That was the last private conversation we had as husband and wife.
