Chapter 2 - The Man in the Presidential Suite
Matthew learned something was wrong at 12:06 a.m.
I know because investigators later reconstructed nearly every minute.
While I was being wheeled through the private entrance of St. Vincent Mercer Hospital, my husband was opening a bottle of twenty-year Scotch in the presidential suite of the Mercer Hotel.
Lauren Thorne stood barefoot beside the windows.
She wore one of Matthew's white dress shirts.
The city spread beneath them.
The same city I had watched from the floor of our penthouse.
Matthew poured two glasses.
Lauren took hers.
"You look tense."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"Clare pushed me too far."
Lauren studied him.
"What did you do?"
Matthew did not answer.
That was his first mistake.
Lauren knew him too well.
"What did you do?"
He drank.
"She needed to understand something."
Lauren set down her glass.
"Matthew."
"Don't."
"Did you hit her?"
He looked away.
Lauren swore.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"She was threatening everything."
"She asked about us."
"She threatened to go through the company."
Lauren went still.
"What exactly did she say?"
Matthew finally looked at her.
"She said she knew about the Hamptons house."
Lauren's face changed.
"How?"
"A tax notice."
"You told me you changed the mailing address."
"I did."
"Apparently not."
Lauren crossed the suite.
"Did she say anything about the accounts?"
Matthew's silence answered her.
Lauren stopped.
"What accounts?"
"Nothing."
"Matthew."
"Nothing she understands."
Lauren stared at him.
That was when his phone began vibrating.
First call.
NexusCore Chief Financial Officer.
He ignored it.
Second call.
General counsel.
Ignored.
Third call.
Board chairman.
Matthew frowned.
Lauren's expression tightened.
"Answer it."
He did.
"Richard."
The voice on the other end was not friendly.
Richard Ames had chaired the NexusCore board for six years.
He had defended Matthew through delayed launches, regulatory investigations, employee complaints, and two failed acquisitions.
That loyalty had limits.
"Where are you?"
"Home."
Lauren looked at Matthew.
He turned away.
Richard continued.
"We have a liquidity review."
Matthew's grip tightened around the phone.
"Why?"
"Sterling Meridian suspended three scheduled counterparty settlements."
Matthew nearly laughed.
"What?"
"Temporary suspension."
"That's impossible."
"It just happened."
"Call them."
"We have."
"And?"
"They requested updated related-party transaction certifications."
Matthew stopped breathing.
Lauren moved closer.
"What?"
she mouthed.
He held up one finger.
Richard continued.
"We also received inquiries from two banks."
"What inquiries?"
"Payments."
Matthew stared through the windows.
"What payments?"
"Eleven-point-eight million routed through Meridian Atlantic Services."
Lauren's glass slipped from her hand.
It landed on the carpet without breaking.
Matthew looked at her.
Richard heard the sound.
"Are you alone?"
"Yes."
Lauren's face went white.
Richard continued.
"I need you in the office by seven."
"I have a meeting—"
"Cancel it."
"Richard."
"This isn't optional."
The call ended.
Matthew lowered the phone.
For several seconds neither of them spoke.
Lauren recovered first.
"Who knows?"
"I don't know."
"How did Sterling find it?"
"I don't know."
"You said those transfers were invisible."
"They were."
"Clearly they weren't."
Matthew rounded on her.
"Keep your voice down."
Lauren laughed once.
A sharp, disbelieving sound.
"We're sixty floors above Manhattan."
"Keep your voice down anyway."
She walked to the bedroom and started dressing.
Matthew watched her.
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
"No."
She turned.
"What do you mean, no?"
"We need to stay aligned."
"We need to stay away from each other."
"Lauren."
"If compliance is asking about related-party payments, we cannot be found together."
Matthew stepped into her path.
She looked at him.
"Move."
He didn't.
For the first time that night, Lauren looked afraid of him.
Not romantically confused.
Not morally conflicted.
Afraid.
"Did Clare call anyone?"
she asked.
Matthew said nothing.
Lauren's expression sharpened.
"Matthew."
"She could barely move."
The color drained completely from Lauren's face.
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"What does that mean?"
He grabbed her wrist.
"It means stop asking questions."
Lauren jerked away.
"You said you slapped her."
Matthew looked toward the windows.
Lauren stared.
"Oh my God."
"Don't."
"What did you do?"
"She'll be fine."
"What did you do?"
"She pushed me."
Lauren stepped backward.
"That's what you're going with?"
"She provoked me."
"How badly did you hurt her?"
Matthew's phone rang again.
This time, neither of them moved.
The caller ID read:
NYPD SPECIAL VICTIMS UNIT.
Matthew stared at it.
Lauren whispered,
"Answer."
He declined the call.
Lauren grabbed her purse.
"I'm leaving."
"You leave now and they'll think you're involved."
"I am involved."
"Not in this."
She looked at him.
Matthew realized too late what he had admitted.
Lauren's eyes narrowed.
"Not in what?"
He said nothing.
She moved toward the door.
He caught her arm again.
"Lauren."
"Take your hand off me."
"Listen to me."
"No."
"We need each other."
"No, Matthew."
Her voice was barely audible.
"You needed me."
The distinction landed.
Matthew released her.
Lauren stepped into the hallway.
Before the door closed, she turned.
"If Clare is seriously hurt, I am not lying for you."
Matthew smiled.
It was the smile he used before hostile negotiations.
"You already have."
The door shut.
Lauren stood alone in the hotel corridor.
Then she pulled out her phone.
She opened a hidden messaging application.
There was one conversation.
No name.
Only initials.
J.S.
She typed:
Something happened.
A reply came almost immediately.
With the wife?
Lauren swallowed.
Yes.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
Do not speak to Matthew again.
Another message.
Do not destroy anything.
Another.
Call the number I gave you.
Lauren looked back at the suite door.
Then at the elevator.
She pressed the call button.
Inside the presidential suite, Matthew poured another drink.
His phone rang again.
This time the call came from his private banker.
He answered.
"Tell me you have good news."
The banker hesitated.
"Matthew, your personal credit line has been suspended pending review."
His face hardened.
"For what?"
"Cross-default exposure."
"What cross-default?"
"NexusCore."
"That's corporate."
"Your collateral package includes pledged shares."
Matthew's voice rose.
"Shares that are about to be worth hundreds of millions."
"Assuming the IPO happens."
Silence.
Matthew slowly lowered his glass.
"What did you just say?"
The banker exhaled.
"The underwriting committee has requested an emergency call at six-thirty."
Matthew's heartbeat became audible in his ears.
"Why?"
"I think you know why."
The call ended.
At 12:14 a.m., Matthew Hayes finally understood that his company was not simply having a difficult night.
Someone had turned on the lights.
May you like
And in every dark corner of NexusCore, hidden things were beginning to move.
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