Page 45 of The Honest Affair

“Jude is going away for the next twenty years because of his part in the abduction of de Vries’s little wife,” Faber replied. “He doesn’t matter to any of us anymore. He’s out.”

“But Eric’s a black sheep,” Gardner tried again. “And soon he won’t have the company anymore either. I’m fighting the will in probate, you know—”

“You’ll lose,” Faber informed him. “Do you really think there is a single judge in New York, or even the country, who will rule against the de Vries bank accounts? Not to mention the old lady had those assets locked up tighter than her wrinkly old arse.”

Gardner frowned in distaste. He had always, always hated Celeste de Vries more than any of them. The old hag had treated him like a common thief, watching him at family dinners like he was going to steal her precious silver and Limoges.

“Still,” Gardner said, more weakly now. “Eric hates the society. I can’t believe he’ll want to lead it now.”

Faber shrugged. “Eric is more like his family than he thinks he is. When I informed him of the society’s plans, his response was something along the lines of, ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ And if that makes me his enemy…well, I’ll be working harder now to be his friend again. And so will everyone else.”

That might have been the exact moment when Gardner’s blood ran cold.

“So, what?” he demanded, spitting onto the table before he could help it. “Did you call me to this fucking cell to tell me I have to kiss Eric’s ass now?”

“Oh, I think that time has passed, don’t you?” Faber replied. “I just called you here to see you squirm. And to tell you that as of today, to you, the Janus society does not exist. The accounts in the Caymans have been transferred to Deutsche Bank under a different name. The properties in New England will still belong to you under Pantheon—until the IRS seizes them, I assume—but we will have no more dealings with you, your company, or any of your known associates, including Ms. Calvert.”

Shaw, Gardner thought. That must have been why the old codger had dropped Caitlyn the second she was implicated in the trial. She might as well go back to using Csaszar, if she could even remember how to say it.

Faber slapped his palm on the table, startling Gardner and yanking him out of his own thoughts.

“This is your only warning,” Faber said. “As of now, you’re on your own. If you contact me or any member using the society name again, it may be the last thing you ever do.”

He stood back up with a terrible, chilling smile. One that Gardner had wished he could give to his own enemies, once upon a time.

“Goodbye, Gardner. I’d say good luck, but I’m not sure I mean it.” Faber cocked his head. “To be honest, I’m sort of hoping Eric still has a taste for vengeance. It’ll make this year a lot more fun if he does.”

The door slammed behind him, and Gardner waited another full twenty minutes, until his heart rate dropped to half normal, until there were no longer telltale drops of perspiration across his brow. Then he stood up and climbed the stairs to the lobby to exit the building himself.

Once outside, the blare of New York shouted at him from all around. He pulled out his cell phone as he turned in the direction of the subway—thefucking subway—and dialed the first name on his recent contacts.

“Bleeker and Levy.”

“Isaac Levy,” Gardner barked, ignoring the loud cry of a taxi horn when he almost stumbled into the street.

“One moment, please.”

He had finally reached the subway top, but he would wait here to have his conversation. He wasn’t interested in the cretins down below overhearing his private business. After the fucking Village Voice article, you never knew who was looking in on you these days.

The hold music switched off and was replaced by the bored tones of his erstwhile attorney.

“Mr. Gardner,” said Levy. “I don’t know what this is about, but—”

“Levy, you have to push through the probate fight. I need that money! As soon as you get it, you’ll get paid, I promise.”

“Mr. Gardner, as I’ve told you several times, the likelihood now of winning your challenge of Celeste de Vries’s will decreased substantially when you were indicted. It would be wiser now for you to take the money from your bankruptcy filing and move on from your fight with the de Vrieses.”

“I don’t fucking care about a fight!” Gardner hissed. “I just want to take them down. It’s what they deserve! They will not win this one, not after ten years!”

There was a long sigh, audible even on the busy street.

“Mr. Gardner, you haven’t paid your last bill. I’m sorry, but until the bankruptcy goes through, I’m afraid I cannot do any more on your behalf in this trial or your divorce, nor will I. And if you do not secure representation or respond to Ms. de Vries by the end of March, she may be able to petition for divorce on grounds of abandonment. I don’t think I need to tell you that would be very bad for your case.”

Gardner swore. He had known from the start that tactic was never going to work. Nina had the might of Eric’s money behind her. And now that rat bastard was going to be caesar?

He, on the other hand, had jack shit.

“Fucking fine,” he snapped before cutting off the call. But instead of putting his phone away and descending into the train tunnel, first Gardner pulled up a web browser and typed in a search.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Gardner muttered to himself as he looked through the results. “If Nina thinks she’s bested me now, she’s got another thing coming.”

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