Page 86 of Downfall

She narrows her eyes. “That’s what was so urgent? You wanted to wish me a happy birthday?”

My wife is clearly not messing around, and for once, her anger is directed at someone other than me, so I lean back in my chair, gloating a little bit.

“No, that’s not what was urgent,” Patrick says, flashing a fake smile as he produces an envelope from a manila folder on his desk and hands it to Skylar. “Your father wanted you to have this on your twenty-fifth birthday.”

She takes the envelope from him. It has her name scrawled in messy script on the front. She looks from Patrick to me, and I nod my head, letting her know I’m here for her. Letting go of my hand, she slips her index finger into the little hole where the glue has come undone and slides it along the seam. She pulls out a letter. As she reads, her hand finds mine again and squeezes. It’s torture not knowing what’s in that letter—if it’s making her happy or sad, if she’s angry or frustrated by her father’s words.

When she finally gets to the end, her eyebrows knit together, and she looks up at Patrick. “What does he mean, ‘I took it out of your inheritance’?”

Patrick pales a little, but doesn’t seem shocked by her question, as if he were even expecting it. He clears his throat again before delivering a clearly practiced speech. “Skylar. Unfortunately, it has come to my attention that an amendment your father made to his will shortly before his death was misfiled.”

“Misfiled?” she repeats. I know that tone. It’s the same one she used when I asked her about her injured arm all those months ago.

Another throat clear. “I was out of the office, and my paralegal was handling my clients. It seems that, when your father made the change, the email he sent was, um, overlooked.”

Skylar looks back at the letter, then up to Patrick. “The change being…”

“The marriage stipulation was taken out,” he confirms.

“So, this whole time⁠—”

“I do apologize for the oversight, Skylar. This has never happened before, but yes, there is no marriage stipulation, and now that you’re twenty-five, you have access to your trust, which is good news. We just have to do some paperwork, and it will be all set.” He’s smiling now, clearly relieved that what he thought was the hard part is over. Admitting mistakes isn’t easy, though he didn’t really admit anything, but rather fumbled through it like an uncoordinated fool.

“I need some air,” Skylar announces, standing abruptly before walking out of the office.

I stay seated, staring at Patrick for a good ten seconds, giving her a moment alone while also making him as uncomfortable as possible. I make sure he understands my intent before I stand up and follow her out.

She’s leaning against the railing outside the office, her long hair flowing in the warm breeze. It’s spring now, which in New England could mean flowers and sunshine or more snow. Thankfully, it’s the former today. It's mild, like the day I first met Skylar in the park down the road from her house.

“Who sent me that first text, Declan?” she asks, and it’s so out of left field that it takes me a second to realize what she’s talking about. It’s not what I expected her to be focused on, but the mind does funny things when it’s overwhelmed. She pushes off the railing. “It wasn’t Claire. She was adamant about that. And it obviously wasn’t Nicole. Your dad somehow found out about the text and that’s when he told her to come after me. So who was it?”

“I think I know,” I say. “But we don’t have to talk about that now. We can⁠—”

“No, Declan. I want to know now.”

“My mom.” It comes out so quiet that I almost think she doesn’t hear me, but then her brows furrow in confusion.

“Your mom?”

“Amelia must have told her about the marriage. Or my dad. Either way, she probably remembered you and looked you up. She saw that you worked at a newspaper. I don’t think she necessarily knew you were looking into Marshall, but she realized that giving you that evidence would provide the resources to expose him. She probably assumed you'd help because I would have told you how much I hated him. I think she was looking for any way to get him out of our lives for good.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I called her the night I found you in the car. She gave me the address. I knew it seemed familiar, but I didn’t connect the dots until later. A long time ago, when my dad actually cared enough to keep his affairs from my mom, he bought a condo at the edge of town. My mom eventually found out about it, and that’s when he stopped hiding that shit from her. Turns out he never sold it. That's where she sent you that first time and how she knew you might be there. She must have realized my dad found out and would try to lure you back to that same spot.”

She takes a step toward me. “Have you talked to her about any of this?”

“She hasn’t returned my calls. I think she’s ashamed that she almost got you killed.”

“But if she hadn’t, your dad would still be free.”

I stalk forward, closing the distance between us. “I don’t care about any of that, Skylar. I was looking into him too. That’s why Nate was at the house that day. I even hired a PI. When Marshall fired me, I realized he was up to some sketchy shit and wanted me gone before I could prove it. Honestly, I knew before then. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to take him down for years, but none of that matters anymore. Not if you were hurt. If you…”

I can’t even say the words.

“I didn’t,” she says, reading my mind. She lays her hand on my chest. “I didn’t die.”

“You came too fucking close,” I counter. Truthfully, I’m just as pissed at my mom as she is at herself, which is why I gave up on trying to reach her. She put Skylar in danger, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive her for that, even if she did also help save her life. Skylar shouldn’t have been in that position in the first fucking place.