“How sick?”
“I don’t know.”
Arthur grabbed Beatrice’s arm.
“That’s enough.”
She pulled away.
“You told me Claire was panicking over a fever.”
I could barely hear over the pounding in my head.
“You knew.”
Arthur looked at me.
“Claire—”
“You knew she was sick.”
“I knew you were overreacting.”
“She was in intensive care.”
“I didn’t know that.”
I stepped closer.
“I left you voicemails.”
“My phone was off.”
“After one hundred calls.”
“I needed space.”
“Our daughter was dying.”
“I DIDN’T KNOW!”
The shout shook the room.
Then silence.
Arthur ran both hands over his face.
“I didn’t know she died.”
I watched him.
For one dangerous second, I almost believed him.
Then his phone rang again.
This time he answered.
“What?”
Leonard’s voice was loud enough that I heard fragments.
Emergency board meeting.
Suspension.
Audit.
Legal counsel.
Arthur turned away from us.
