—
Kenneth was discharged from Saint Anthony at noon.
I was waiting in the lobby when they brought him out in a wheelchair.
He was pale, moving carefully, wearing the clothes a nurse had retrieved from his locker.
He looked up and saw me standing by the exit doors.
He stopped the wheelchair himself.
“Sabrina,” he said.
“I can explain everything.”
“I know you can,” I said.
“You’re very good at explaining things.
You explained the surgery to me four years ago.
You explained the business trips.
You explained why we couldn’t have children.” I paused.
“You have an explanation for everything.”
He glanced around the lobby.
Two nurses were at the desk.
An orderly was pushing a cart nearby.
He lowered his voice.
“Whatever you think you found in that safe—”
“Dr.
Webb gave a full statement this morning,” I said.
“To me, to my attorney, and to a DA investigator who joined us by phone.
He confirmed the procedure, the payment, and the second contingency transfer.
He also confirmed that you told him I had signed the consent form voluntarily.”
Kenneth’s face went very still.
“The form has already been sent to a handwriting analyst,” I said.
“But I don’t think we’ll need it.
Webb is cooperating fully.
He’s hoping cooperation will reduce his exposure.” I tilted my head slightly.
“I imagine you would have done the same, in his position.”
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Kenneth said.
His voice was quiet, but the edges of it had gone hard.
“If you pursue this, everything comes out.
The company’s share structure.
Your family’s involvement in the offshore accounts.
Your father’s name is on three of those transfers, Sabrina.
Did your investigator find that?”
I looked at him.
“My father died two years ago,” I said.
“His name on those transfers means you forged his signature to move money after his death.
That is not a threat you want to make to me.”
The hardness left his face.
“I want you to think very carefully,” he said, “about what happens to your family if this goes public.”
“I have thought about it,” I said.
“I thought about it for six months.
I thought about it in the café in Downtown Denver while my coffee went cold.
I thought about it in your office at five this morning while I read what you did to me.” I stepped closer.
“And then I stopped thinking about what it would cost me, and I started thinking about what it would cost you.”
He said nothing.
“My attorney has already filed the initial petition,” I said.
“The DA’s office has the financial records, the medical records, Webb’s statement, and the forged transfers.
The board of Rollins Global will receive a full briefing by end of business today.” I picked up my bag from the chair beside me.
“You should call your lawyer, Kenneth.
Not to threaten me.
To protect yourself.
Because what’s coming is not something I’m doing to you.
It’s something you built, and it is falling on its own.”
I walked past him toward the exit.
“Sabrina.” His voice came from behind me, lower now, stripped of everything it had been wearing.
“I did love you.
At the beginning.
I want you to know that.”
I pushed open the door.
The morning air was cold and clean off the mountains.
I didn’t turn around.
—
