Chương 7
Alden did not answer.
“Was it the first year? The fifth? Did Griffin bring you reports? Did you ask him to?”
“I asked whether he had heard from you.”
“And?”
“He said no.”
Maren felt the old possibility become heavier.
“Every time?”
Alden’s eyes narrowed. “What are you suggesting?”
“I wrote to him.”
“He said you sent one vague announcement to a corporate address.”
“It named my rank, my command, and my mailing address.”
Alden stood again, slower this time.
“He never showed it to me.”
“I assumed you told him not to.”
“I did not.”
Maren studied him. Alden had lied to himself for decades, but he was not a skilled liar in the moment. His vanity required preparation. This surprise looked real.
“Did you ask anyone else?” she said.
“I had no reason to distrust my son.”
“You had a daughter.”
The words silenced him more effectively than anger.
A knock came at the library door.
Denise spoke through it. “Mr. Rowe, the board chair is calling.”
Alden closed his eyes.
Maren stood. “We’re done.”
“No.”
“We have said enough for one night.”
“I have questions.”
“So do I.”
“Then stay.”
“I am not nineteen. You cannot order me to remain in a room.”
The door opened before he answered. Griffin stepped in with Denise behind him.
“There is a problem,” Griffin said.
Maren looked at him. “You found a room without one?”
Denise held out her phone toward Alden. “The video has been picked up by two national outlets. Reporters are asking whether the company’s statement was authorized by Admiral Rowe.”
“It was not,” Maren said.
Griffin ignored her. “The board is concerned about Monday’s vote.”
Alden’s gaze sharpened. “Why?”
“Because three directors believe the statement creates exposure.”
“For what?”
“Misrepresentation. Possibly governance concerns if they decide this reflects a broader pattern.”
Alden stared at him. “It was a family statement.”
“Released on a corporate account,” Denise said carefully.
“Whose decision was that?”
Denise looked at Griffin.
Griffin looked at Maren.
Maren almost admired the reflex.
“You authorized it,” Alden said.
“I authorized a brief response to an escalating situation.”
“Using the company.”
“The family and company identities are linked.”
“Not when it suits you,” Maren said.
Griffin’s eyes flashed. “This is exactly why you should have warned us.”
Alden turned on him. “Did she write to you?”
The room changed.
Denise stepped backward. Griffin’s expression remained controlled, but one hand closed around the edge of his jacket.
“What?”
“Nine years ago. Did Maren send you a letter?”
Griffin glanced at her. “I told you. Something arrived.”
“Did you read it?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you show it to me?”
“You had made your wishes clear.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Griffin gave a short laugh. “You spent twenty years refusing to say her name at dinner, and now you want to conduct an inquiry into mail handling?”
Alden moved closer. “Did you know she was an admiral?”
“Not until tonight.”
“Captain Hart,” Maren said.
Griffin looked at her.
“You recognized him.”
“I did not.”
“You knew his name when Denise mentioned the two officers who saluted. You called him Captain before anyone introduced him.”
Silence followed.
Denise looked down at her phone again, but there was nothing on the screen.
Griffin’s face hardened. “I may have seen him in coverage.”
“What coverage?” Alden asked.
“Naval coverage. Business briefings. I don’t know.”
“You told me she was living from post to post.”
“She was.”
“That is technically accurate,” Maren said. “Ships move.”
Alden did not smile. “You told me she had no career.”
“I told you I had no confirmed information.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No,” Griffin said. “It is what you wanted to hear.”
The words landed with enough truth to injure both men.
Alden’s shoulders went still.
Griffin continued, his voice lower. “Do not make me responsible for the story you built because it became embarrassing tonight.”
“You fed it.”
“I protected you.”
“From what?”
“From this.” Griffin gestured toward Maren. “From having to explain why your daughter preferred a uniform to your name. From the possibility that she succeeded without you. From the fact that every year she stayed away made you look smaller.”
Alden struck him.
The sound was flat and shockingly ordinary.
Griffin stumbled one step, then steadied himself. A red mark rose along his cheek.
Denise inhaled sharply.
Maren moved between them before Alden could lift his hand again. “Enough.”
“He lied to me,” Alden said.
“You lied to yourself.”
“He kept my child from me.”
Maren felt anger rise so quickly that her vision narrowed. “Do not do that.”
Alden stared at her.
“Do not turn me into something stolen from you. You threw me out. Griffin may have hidden what happened afterward, but he did not make the first choice.”
Alden’s hand lowered.
Griffin touched his cheek. His eyes were bright, not with tears but humiliation.
“Congratulations,” he said to Maren. “You wanted him to see you. Now he does.”
“I wanted him not to point at my face during a wedding.”
“You always did lack ambition.”
He walked out.
Denise hesitated. “Should I—”
“Go with him,” Alden said.
She left without argument.
Maren picked up the bouquet.
Alden sat heavily. “I did not know.”
“You made not knowing very easy.”
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“For once, something without asking someone else to carry it.”
She left him in the library.
Outside, Griffin was gone. Denise stood near the elevators speaking rapidly into her phone. When she saw Maren, she ended the call.
“I’m sorry,” Denise said.
“For the statement?”
“For several things.”
Maren pressed the elevator button.
Denise looked at the bouquet. “The bride was lovely.”
“She still is.”
“Yes. Of course.”
The elevator arrived.
Before the doors closed, Denise said, “I signed for your letter.”
May you like
Maren held the door with one hand.
Denise’s face had lost its professional neutrality. “Nine years ago. Griffin asked me to bring it to his office. I did. Later, he asked for a background report.”
