"Richard."
Her expression changed.
"Richard Whitmore?"
Arthur nodded.
Margaret stared at him in disbelief.
"He hit you?"
"It happened during an argument."
"He hit you?"
"Yes."
She stepped back as though she needed space to process the answer.
For several seconds, she could not speak.
Then her voice became sharper.
"What was he thinking?"
Arthur sat down.
"He wasn't thinking clearly."
"That is not an excuse."
"I know."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I didn't want to upset you."
Margaret gave a short, incredulous laugh.
"You think finding out that someone assaulted my father is less upsetting when I discover it hours later?"
Arthur looked down.
"I wanted to make sure you were all right."
She knelt beside his chair.
"Dad, look at me."
He raised his eyes.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"No."
"Did you fall?"
"No."
"Did anyone else see it?"
Arthur hesitated.
"Eleanor was there."
"Richard's wife?"
"Yes."
"Did she try to stop him?"
"She was frightened."
Margaret's anger shifted into concern.
"Frightened of what?"
Arthur did not answer immediately.
He thought about Eleanor standing behind Richard, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes filled with disbelief.
He remembered the way she had moved forward before Richard turned toward her.
"Of him," Arthur finally said.
Margaret sat back.
For a moment, the room seemed to grow colder.
"Then this isn't the first time."
Arthur looked at her.
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Margaret stood and began walking across the room.
She was trying to control her anger, but each step seemed to make it more difficult.
"He's been treating people like this for years, hasn't he?"
"I don't know."
"Why did you go there?"
Arthur looked toward the window.
"Because I wanted to give him one final opportunity to tell the truth."
"About what?"
He remained silent.
Margaret stopped walking.
"Dad, what is going on?"
Arthur rubbed his hands together.
"There are things about Richard's business dealings that don't make sense. I discovered discrepancies in some documents. People have been telling different versions of the same events. And when I tried to ask him about them, he became angry."
"Discrepancies?"
"Money, agreements, responsibilities. Nothing I can explain properly without showing you the documents."
Margaret crossed her arms.
"And he assaulted you because you asked questions?"
"That is what happened."
She looked at the bruise on his cheek.
Then she reached for her phone.
"I'm calling the police."
Arthur gently placed his hand over hers.
"Wait."
"Why?"
"Because I want us to understand exactly what happened before we do anything."
"We know exactly what happened. He hit you."
"Yes. And that cannot be ignored. But I also want to understand what he is hiding."
Margaret lowered her phone.
"You're still protecting him."
Arthur shook his head.
"No, Margaret. I'm trying to protect everyone who might be affected by what he's doing."
She looked at him for a long time.
Then she pulled a chair closer and sat down.
"All right. Tell me everything."
Arthur began explaining.
He spoke slowly, carefully describing the conversations that had taken place over the previous weeks. He told her about the financial records that did not match, the people who had approached him privately, and the unusual pressure Richard had placed on others to keep certain matters confidential.
Margaret listened without interrupting.
As the explanation unfolded, her anger became something more focused.
Concern.
Suspicion.
And a growing determination to discover the truth.
When Arthur finished, she stood again.
"Do you have copies of those documents?"
"Some."
"Where are they?"
"In my study."
"Then tomorrow morning, we'll go through everything."
Arthur nodded.
Margaret looked at him.
"And Dad?"
"Yes?"
"You're not going back to that house alone."
Arthur managed a faint smile.
"I don't think that will be necessary."
She leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
For the first time since leaving Richard's home, Arthur felt that he was no longer carrying the burden alone.
***
The following morning, David Bennett arrived at Arthur's house shortly after nine.
He was seventy-nine, a retired architect with silver hair and a habit of examining every room he entered as though he were evaluating a building.
David had been Arthur's closest friend for nearly four decades.
They had met when they were younger men, both struggling to establish themselves professionally. Over the years, they had shared business ventures, family celebrations, disappointments, and the countless ordinary conversations that gradually turn acquaintances into lifelong friends.
David had never been particularly impressed by wealth or status.
He judged people by how they treated others.
When Margaret told him what had happened, he arrived without hesitation.
Arthur was sitting in his study, wearing a light blue shirt.
David stopped in the doorway.
"Good heavens."
Arthur looked up.
"Good morning to you too."
David approached him.
"Let me see."
"It's nothing."
"Arthur, I've known you long enough to recognize when you're pretending."
Arthur reluctantly turned his face.
David's expression darkened.
"That man struck you?"
Arthur nodded.
David removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead.
"Unbelievable."
"That's what Margaret said."
"Margaret is right."
David pulled out a chair.
"Tell me everything."
Arthur repeated the story, this time including the details he had shared with his daughter.
David listened carefully.
When Arthur mentioned the financial discrepancies, his expression became particularly serious.
"Have you kept the original records?"
"Yes."
"Good. Don't give anything away."
Arthur looked at him.
"What are you thinking?"
David leaned forward.
"I'm thinking that someone who becomes violent when asked to explain his actions may be more frightened of the truth than he wants people to believe."
Arthur said nothing.
David continued.
"We need evidence. Not rumors. Not assumptions. Evidence."
Margaret entered carrying a folder.
"I've brought the documents Dad mentioned."
David opened it.
Inside were printed statements, copies of correspondence, and several pages of handwritten notes.
He examined them one by one.
The room remained quiet except for the occasional sound of paper being turned.
Finally, David placed the folder on the desk.
"This deserves a proper investigation."
Margaret nodded.
"That's what I thought."
Arthur looked between them.
"I don't want this to become a war."
David gave him a firm look.
"Then don't think of it as a war. Think of it as a responsibility."
Arthur sighed.
"Richard has a family."
"And so do the people who may have been harmed by his decisions."
Margaret folded her arms.
"Besides, this is no longer just about business. He physically attacked you."