one hour

Chapter 27

One Hour

Lily ate her toast slowly, both feet swinging under the chair, completely unbothered by the tension sitting around her at that table.

Judith sat beside her, pouring a small glass of juice, keeping her voice normal and her face calm. Dan was on his phone at the kitchen counter, speaking quietly to someone she did not know. Ethan stood by the window watching the street below with his arms crossed.

Nobody said anything that mattered while Lily was in the room.

“Can I watch something on the tablet,” Lily asked.

“Yes,” Judith said immediately. “Go to the bedroom and I will bring it to you.”

Lily jumped down from the chair and padded off down the hallway without a second thought. Judith waited until she heard the bedroom door close. Then she looked at the two men.

“Talk,” she said.

Dan lowered his phone. “I just spoke to a contact at one of the papers Elena reached. They have the recording. They have the financial records. They are running it.” He paused. “But they want a statement. From Judith. Her name is the one on the press release. Her statement carries the most weight.”

Judith nodded. “I will give them one.”

“Judith—” Ethan started.

“I said I will give them one.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “This is my name they are using. My family they have been going after. I am not going to sit here and let other people speak while they drag me through the papers.”

Ethan looked at her for a moment. Then he nodded.

Dan handed her his phone. “The journalist is on hold. Her name is Sarah Okafor. She is good. She will not twist your words.”

Judith took the phone and walked to the far end of the kitchen.

“Sarah,” she said. “My name is Judith Thompson. I am ready to give you my statement.”

Across the city, Richard Blackwood was sitting in his study when his own phone rang.

He looked at the screen. Marcus Kane.

He answered.

“We have a problem,” Marcus said.

“I know,” Blackwood replied. “Ethan.”

“Not just Ethan.” Marcus’s voice was tight. “The recording is already with three journalists. Elena sent it twenty minutes ago. By the time our press release goes out at nine the story will already be running against us.”

Blackwood was quiet for a moment.

“And Whitmore,” he said.

“His name is in the recording,” Marcus said. “Dan identified him two years ago. It is all there.”

Another silence.

“Does Whitmore know,” Blackwood asked.

“He knows. He called me ten minutes ago.” Marcus paused. “He is not happy, Richard.”

Blackwood set down his pen very carefully. “What did he say.”

“He said to clean it up. Today. However necessary.” Marcus’s voice dropped. “He is not talking about press releases anymore.”

The study went quiet.

Blackwood stood up slowly and walked to the window. Outside, London was going about its morning. People walking, cars moving, the city completely indifferent to what was being decided in this room.

“Find Erica,” he said. “Bring her here.”

“She is already on her way,” Marcus said.

Blackwood ended the call and stood at the window with his hands behind his back.

He had built everything carefully. Fifteen years of careful decisions and careful loyalty and careful silence. He had kept Whitmore’s name out of everything, kept the payments invisible, kept the arrangement clean. One thread had come loose and now his own son was pulling it.

He thought about Ethan as a boy. Sharp. Obedient. Everything a Blackwood son was supposed to be.

He had clearly miscalculated somewhere.

He picked up the phone and made one more call.

Back at the apartment, Judith handed Dan his phone.

“She has everything she needs,” Judith said.

“How do you feel,” Dan asked.

“Like I want this to be over,” she said honestly.

Ethan’s phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up and read the message. Then he looked up.

“Elena says the first story is already online,” he said. “Eight forty two.”

Judith looked at the clock. Seventeen minutes before the press release.

“Is it enough,” Dan asked.

“It is a start,” Ethan said.

Judith sat back down at the table. The notepad was still there, full of everything they had pieced together through the night. Names and arrows and dates and the truth written out in her own handwriting.

Her phone buzzed.

She looked at the screen. A message from a number she did not recognise.

This is not over, Judith. You should have stayed quiet.

She put the phone face down on the table.

“What was that,” Ethan asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

But her hands were not completely steady when she reached for her coffee cup.

Down the hall, Lily laughed at something on the tablet. A bright, easy sound that moved through the whole apartment.

Judith closed her eyes for just one second.

Then she opened them and sat up straight.

Whatever came next, she was ready for it.