Chapter 9 - THE NIGHT HUDSON BEGGED
Hudson came to my house at midnight.
He stood beneath the porch light wearing a wrinkled shirt.
His eyes were bloodshot.
“Serena.”
I remained behind the locked door.
“What do you want?”
“Please let me in.”
“No.”
He pressed his forehead against the glass.
“I made mistakes.”
I almost laughed.
“That's becoming your favorite sentence.”
He looked up.
“The investors are threatening legal action.”
I said nothing.
“They want the consulting payment returned.”
Still nothing.
“And the company suspended me.”
I looked at him.
“The board placed you on administrative leave pending investigation.”
He stared.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“Serena, I need your help.”
There it was.
The sentence I had heard for five years.
I need your help.
When the bank refused him.
When suppliers demanded payment.
When clients complained.
When deadlines collapsed.
He needed my help.
But he never needed my name on the magazine cover.
I looked at him.
“Did you authorize the cheaper chairs?”
His expression changed.
He looked away.
“Hudson.”
He swallowed.
“I thought they met the standards.”
“Did you check?”
Silence.
“Did you?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Someone had been injured.
And he had never checked.
I looked at him.
“You need an attorney.”
His face collapsed.
“Serena, please.”
I shook my head.
“I can't save you from every consequence.”
He began crying.
“I love you.”
I looked at the man I had married.
And felt something I hadn't expected.
Not anger.
Not hatred.
Just distance.
May you like
“I loved you too,” I whispered.
Then I closed the door.
