Chapter 4 - The Meeting He Couldn’t Control
Sunday was the first full day of my life without Dominic Prescott.
That sounds dramatic.
Maybe it was.
But waking up without anticipating his mood felt almost unnatural.
For years, mornings had begun with calculation.
Was Dominic stressed?
Was he late?
Had his mother texted?
Were investors coming?
Had I forgotten something he told me three days earlier while answering emails?
That Sunday, I woke because Leo made a tiny hungry sound from the bassinet.
Nothing else mattered.
I fed him near the window while Manhattan slowly brightened.
Dad was already awake.
Of course he was.
Generals apparently did not develop the ability to sleep late after retirement.
He knocked softly before entering.
“Coffee?”
“Yes.”
“Decaf.”
I smiled.
“You remember.”
“I remember everything important.”
That almost made me cry.
Not from sadness.
From contrast.
Dominic forgot my obstetrician’s name.
Dad remembered how much caffeine I was supposed to avoid.
He placed the cup beside me.
“Rebecca will arrive at nine.”
“What happens Monday?”
“That depends on you.”
“I want to go.”
Dad studied me.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“You’re recovering.”
“I know.”
“You don’t need to prove anything.”
“I’m not going to prove something.”
I looked at Leo.
“I’m going because Dominic has been speaking for me. I want that to stop.”
Dad nodded.
“Then we go.”
Monday morning, Dominic arrived at Monroe Prescott Capital at 8:15.
His tie was perfect.
Hair perfect.
Suit perfect.
Smile rehearsed.
Inside, everything was burning.
Caleb met him near the conference room.
“Bank still hasn’t cleared the guarantees.”
“They will.”
“How?”
“I’m handling Audrey.”
Caleb stared.
“Are you?”
Dominic’s expression tightened.
“She’s emotional.”
“I heard she retained Sloan & Mercer.”
Dominic paused.
“How did you hear that?”
“Our attorney heard.”
Caleb lowered his voice.
“And apparently her father isn’t some retired administrator.”
Dominic looked around.
“Not here.”
“Is he really a four-star general?”
“Yes.”
Caleb stared.
“You never knew?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
“Why?”
Dominic didn’t answer.
He had been asking himself the same question.
Why hide something like that?
Then the answer had arrived sometime around three in the morning.
Because Audrey had wanted to know who he was without her father’s name affecting his behavior.
Dominic hated that conclusion.
Because it meant he had failed a test he never knew he was taking.
At 9:45, investors began arriving.
Dominic moved through the room shaking hands.
He was good at this.
This was his battlefield.
Confidence.
Language.
Control.
At 9:58, he glanced toward the elevator.
No Audrey.
Good.
At 9:59, the doors opened.
Rebecca Sloan stepped out.
Beside her was Audrey.
Dominic froze.
She wore an ivory suit, simple and elegant.
She moved carefully.
Still recovering.
But her posture was different.
Not fragile.
Still.
Behind her walked Charles Brooks.
Not in uniform this time.
Dark suit.
No medals.
No stars.
He didn’t need them.
Half the room recognized him anyway.
Conversations stopped.
Dominic approached quickly.
“Audrey.”
She looked at him.
“Dominic.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Rebecca stepped slightly closer.
“My client may attend.”
“This is a private company meeting.”
Audrey held his gaze.
“My name is in your presentation.”
Dominic’s face changed.
Barely.
But enough.
“You misunderstood.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
Caleb appeared.
“General Brooks.”
Charles shook his hand.
“Mr. Monroe.”
Caleb swallowed.
“It’s an honor.”
Charles’s expression remained neutral.
“We’ll see.”
Everyone entered the conference room.
Dominic stood at the screen.
He began.
Revenue.
Market opportunity.
Projected growth.
Restructuring.
His voice strengthened as he continued.
For twenty minutes, he almost forgot Audrey was there.
Then he reached the slide.
STRATEGIC CAPITAL SUPPORT
Beneath it:
Brooks Family — Long-Term Commitment
Dominic clicked too quickly to the next slide.
Audrey spoke.
“Go back.”
Silence.
Dominic turned.
“This is internal forecasting.”
“Go back.”
He hesitated.
Then complied.
The words reappeared.
Audrey looked around the room.
“Can someone tell me what that means?”
One investor cleared his throat.
“We were informed your family intended to support the company during restructuring.”
“By whom?”
Everyone looked at Dominic.
He forced a smile.
“This was based on ongoing discussions.”
Audrey looked at him.
“What discussions?”
“Private conversations between husband and wife.”
“No.”
Dominic’s smile disappeared.
Audrey turned to the investors.
“My family has never agreed to provide capital to this company.”
Murmurs.
Dominic stepped forward.
“Audrey, this isn’t the place.”
“This is exactly the place.”
Rebecca placed documents on the table.
“My client is also formally disputing personal guarantees connected to this company.”
Caleb’s face went pale.
One investor pushed back his chair.
“What?”
Dominic raised a hand.
“This is a marital disagreement.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“It is a documentation issue.”
The room changed.
Investors understood those words.
Documentation issue meant lawyers.
Forensics.
Exposure.
Charles finally spoke.
“My daughter’s name and my name have been used to imply financial support that does not exist.”
Dominic swallowed.
Charles continued.
“I have never invested one dollar in this company.”
No one moved.
“And I have never authorized anyone to suggest otherwise.”
An older investor looked at Dominic.
“You told us General Brooks was supportive.”
Dominic replied quickly.
“I said the Brooks family was supportive.”
“Same implication.”
“No.”
“Absolutely the same implication.”
Voices rose.
Dominic tried to regain control.
“Everyone calm down.”
Audrey watched him.
For years, he had controlled conversations at home by making me doubt my memory.
But numbers didn’t doubt.
Documents didn’t apologize.
Signatures didn’t become emotional.
One investor pointed toward the screen.
“Is the capital commitment real or not?”
Dominic hesitated.
Audrey answered.
“No.”
The room erupted.
Caleb walked toward Dominic.
“What did you do?”
Dominic lowered his voice.
“We needed bridge financing.”
“You told me Audrey agreed.”
“She would have.”
Caleb stared.
“What?”
Dominic realized too late what he had said.
She would have.
Not she did.
Rebecca wrote something down.
Dominic saw.
His face drained.
“Audrey.”
I stood.
Pain pulled across my abdomen.
I ignored it.
“I came here for one reason.”
The room quieted.
“You have spent years deciding what I would tolerate. What I would sign. What I would forgive. What I would understand.”
Dominic stared at me.
“That ends today.”
“Audrey—”
“No.”
My voice stayed calm.
“You told me not to make things difficult outside the hospital.”
His jaw tightened.
“I remember.”
“So do I.”
I turned.
Dad walked beside me.
Rebecca followed.
At the elevator, Dominic caught up.
“Wait.”
I turned.
He looked different.
Less polished.
Desperate.
“We can fix this.”
“The company?”
“Our marriage.”
For one terrible second, I remembered the man I had loved.
The man who cooked pasta on our third date.
The man who danced with me barefoot in my kitchen.
The man who cried when the doctor first showed us Leo’s heartbeat.
Maybe some of that had been real.
That made it worse.
“I don’t trust you.”
“You can.”
“No.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You made choices.”
His eyes filled.
For the first time, the emotion looked genuine.
“I love you.”
I almost wished he hadn’t said it.
Because there had been a time when those words could fix everything.
Now they sounded like something he was reaching for because nothing else worked.
The elevator opened.
I stepped inside.
Dominic grabbed the door.
“Audrey, please.”
Dad started forward.
I touched his arm.
Then I looked at Dominic.
“I spent years waiting for you to choose me.”
His face crumpled slightly.
“You chose your mother. Your business. Your image. Your comfort.”
I glanced toward my father.
“The difference is, when I finally called someone who loved me, he didn’t ask whether helping me was convenient.”
Dominic released the elevator.
The doors closed.
By noon, two investors had suspended commitments.
By three, the bank froze additional credit.
By five, the firm’s board scheduled an emergency review.
But Dominic’s problems were no longer mine.
Or so I thought.
That evening, Rebecca came to Dad’s apartment carrying another folder.
“This arrived from Dominic’s attorney.”
I opened it.
A temporary custody petition.
Dominic was demanding immediate access to Leo.
And beneath the legal language was a claim that made my entire body turn cold.
Audrey Brooks is emotionally unstable following childbirth and has been improperly influenced by her father to remove the infant from the marital home.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
Dad stood behind me.
He said nothing.
Rebecca did.
“He’s changing strategy.”
I looked at her.
“Meaning?”
“He can’t control the financial story.”
She pointed to the petition.
May you like
“So now he’s going to try to control the story about you.”
And if Dominic wanted to convince a judge that I was an unstable mother, then I was about to discover how far he was willing to go—and who in my own home had been helping him build that lie.
