“I’m not pretending, Eleanor.”
“Then perhaps your imaginary fortune can buy Clara a suitable evening gown.”
David glanced at me before answering.
“Your family office received a notice this afternoon concerning several overdue financial disclosures.”
The laughter stopped.
“How would you know anything about my family office?”
“Because my firm is the controlling capital provider behind the facilities your advisers have been asking us to extend.”
Another silence followed.
This one lasted long enough for me to hear someone asking my mother whether she wanted another glass of champagne.
“Who are you?” she finally whispered.
David’s voice remained almost unbearably calm.
“The man you’ve called worthless at every family dinner for five years.”
A faint crash sounded through the phone.
I imagined her lowering a champagne glass too quickly onto a marble table.
“You’re lying,” she said.
“Ask your advisers to verify my identity, Eleanor, and they’ll explain the ownership structure.”
