Page 171 of The Liar's Reckoning

I’m not a hundred percent sure she doesn’t. As a lawyer, I have to admire Silas’s strategy. He had to know he couldn’t go after me or Marianne, but Avery with her new husband is ripe for the picking. She won’t want a scandal, she’s likely to settle out of court, and frankly, Silasdoesdeserve compensation for what we did to him. I wonder how long he’s been planning this.

“He didn’t deserve it, either,” I say.

“Graham, do you really want all this dragged up again? Please talk to him. Get your dad to give him some money—anything. Roger is pissed.”

Avery’s husband. Dr. Roger Capshaw. “I understand that, but I’m sure he doesn’t want to be involved in this either.”

“Roger?” She laughs. “He’s like a dragon the way he hoards money. He’s not giving Silas a dime without a huge fight.”

Another unpleasant development. “It’s not like you can win the suit,” I say, trying to get her to see reason. “He’s got a case. Ultimately youareresponsible for the video. Maybe you should be calling Marianne to bail you out.”

“Graham!”

“What?” I ask, some of my resentment rising to the surface. “She’s not taking your calls?”

“Don’t be a dick!”

I breathe heavily, running my palms down my thighs. “Look, the answer is no—I don’t want the video circulating again. And I don’t like that he’s targeting you as the responsible party. He’s got plenty of other ways to make money than by filing a lawsuit.”Likeblackmailing me with an even more damning video.“I’ll talk to him.”God help me.

My father offered to pay him off once. He’s likely to offer again especially with this legislation so close to passing. The margin in the senate is too slim to lose even one vote. If I get run out of DC on a rail, the vote they lose could be mine.

But talking to Silas? About this?

Just the thought of it makes me want to throw up. He’s blocked my number, so what am I gonna do? Corner him at his apartment? His job? He’ll hate me even more than he already does.

But maybe…

I shut the filthy thought down before it fully forms. It’s sick and desperate and completely beside the point. Regardless, I need to excuse myself before my thoughts run away with me. I stand, and Avery scrambles to her feet. “Graham, I’m sorry.”

I shake off the apology. What fucking good does it do now? “You and Marianne nearly ruined his life.”

“I know,” she says, hushed and ashamed.

“But you don’t think Dr. Roger will understand that?”

“Understand? Maybe. Pay two-point-five million dollars to fix? I don’t think so.”

“Two point five…”

She nods, eyes watery.

“Fuck.” My father won’t like that number, either.

“So maybe there’s some room to negotiate down?” she asks hopefully.

Christ, she’s selfish. “I said I’ll talk to him. Jesus. Is that not enough?”

She startles, never having seen me snap before. “I’m sorry,” she says again, and it reminds me of the night Silas told me to stop apologizing. I get what he meant now. How nauseating and useless the words are, especially when repeated on a loop.

“Forget it,” I mumble, moving past her to the door.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I seem okay?” I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

She gives my back a rub and comes dangerously close to hugging me, but I manage to step away. I don’t want her comfort. I don’t want anyone’s.

I leave Gramercy and cross the street, walking down two blocks to sit on a park bench facing The Eastmoor. I can’t see well enough from here to determine if Silas is in the lobby. The doors are heavily decorated with iron fashioned into a trellis, but I picture him there regardless.

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