Chương 3
“That apartment has occupancy rules.”
“My sister visited for four nights after the baby was born.”
“You told me she was staying indefinitely.”
“I said I wished she could.”
Lydia waved one hand.
It was the smallest movement and somehow the ugliest.
“Whatever.”
Ethan’s voice hardened.
“How did you know who owns her building?”
Lydia did not answer.
Nora did.
“Your family office.”
Ethan looked at her.
Nora had finally found the part of the conversation she had been dreading since she accepted his invitation that afternoon.
“I got a letter,” she said.
“What letter?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“From who?”
“Mercer Family Holdings.”
Ethan’s gaze snapped back to Lydia.
She shook her head.
“It wasn’t a threat.”
“What did it say?”
“It offered assistance.”
“To move me,” Nora said.
Ethan’s face had gone very still.
Nora reached toward the overnight bag.
Pain pulled at her shoulder.
He moved instinctively to help.
She stepped away from him.
His hands stopped.
“I’ve got it.”
He let her pick up the bag herself.
She crouched awkwardly because of the carrier and unzipped the side compartment. Beneath two diapers and a folded cotton burp cloth was a business envelope with a deep blue logo in the corner.
Nora held it out.
Ethan took it.
Lydia crossed her arms.
He read.
Nothing changed in his posture until the second page.
Then he looked up.
“You offered her two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Lydia’s voice became almost bored.
“For relocation, medical expenses, and confidentiality.”
“Confidentiality about what?”
“You.”
“She never asked me for money.”
“I know.”
Nora laughed once.
Both Mercers looked at her.
“That’s the best part.”
Ethan lowered the paper.
Nora folded her arms around the carrier again.
“Your sister’s people already knew I hadn’t asked you for anything. That apparently made me suspicious.”
“I did not say suspicious.”
“You said unpredictable.”
Lydia’s mouth tightened.
Ethan looked at the page.
The baby woke.
There was no cinematic timing to it. No dramatic cry.
He simply made a soft, irritated grunt against Nora’s chest, pulled one knee upward inside the carrier, and began rooting against her shirt.
Nora looked down.
“Oh, buddy.”
Her entire body changed.
Ethan saw it happen.
Five days of fear, humiliation, physical pain and Mercer family politics disappeared from her expression for the few seconds it took her to touch the infant’s cheek.
“You’re hungry again?”
The baby answered by becoming more annoyed.
Nora reached for the release clip on the carrier.
Her left shoulder protested.
She stopped.
Ethan stepped forward.
“Can I?”
She looked at his hands.
Then at him.
He had held their son twice.
The first time was twenty minutes after birth, when a nurse had transferred the tiny bundled body into his arms and Ethan had looked terrified enough that Nora, exhausted and shaking, started laughing.
The second was the next morning.
He had sat in the hospital chair for nearly an hour while the baby slept against his chest.
Then Lydia arrived at the nurses’ station.
Nora had seen her through the half-open door.
Ethan had gone into the hall.
They argued quietly.
Afterward, Ethan returned looking pale and asked Nora whether she had told anyone about the baby.
That question had changed everything.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it had been frightened.
Nora heard again the exact shape of it.
Who have you told?
Not How are you?
Not Are you scared?
Not What do you need?
Who have you told?
She had not forgotten.
Now he stood in the hallway and waited.
Nora unclipped the carrier herself.
“I can do it.”
“All right.”
Her fingers shook.
She hated that.
Ethan saw and looked away so she would not have to know he had seen.
She lifted the baby carefully against her chest.
Lydia remained at the other end of the hallway.
For the first time, she seemed unsure where to put herself.
Nora collected the diaper bag.
“I’m leaving.”
Ethan’s head came up.
“No.”
The word was automatic.
Nora gave him a tired look.
He corrected himself.
“Sorry. I mean—please don’t.”
“I’m not staying here.”
“You came here to stay.”
“I came because you said we needed to talk somewhere private.”
“And because your apartment lock was damaged.”
Nora looked at Lydia.
Ethan followed her gaze.
Lydia’s face changed too late.
There it was.
Small.
Barely anything.
But Nora saw it.
“You knew about the lock.”
Lydia said nothing.
Ethan said, “What lock?”
Nora continued watching Lydia.
“When I got home Tuesday night, the deadbolt was bent.”
“Nora.”
“I thought maybe the building maintenance guy had tried to fix it.”
“Did you call him?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I had just brought a newborn home and hadn’t slept more than ninety minutes in a row since Sunday.”
Lydia said, “You can’t possibly think I broke into your apartment.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You looked at me.”
“You knew it was damaged.”
“I knew because you told Ethan.”
Nora turned toward him.
Ethan shook his head slowly.
“No.”
Lydia’s face emptied.
Nora felt the hair rise along her arms.
“How did you know?”
Lydia looked at the baby.
Not Nora.
The baby.
Then back at Ethan.
“I need my purse.”
Nobody moved.
“My purse is in the sitting room.”
Ethan said, “You can get it.”
Lydia walked toward the room off the foyer.
Ethan waited until she passed him.
“Phone stays here.”
She stopped.
“What?”
“Put your phone on the table.”
“You don’t get to confiscate my phone.”
“You’re right.”
His voice remained calm.
“You can take your phone and leave right now, or you can leave it on the table for two minutes, get your purse, and then take both.”
Lydia stared at him.
Nora could almost see the calculation happening.
Finally Lydia placed the phone beside the unopened mail on the console.
She disappeared into the sitting room.
Ethan turned to Nora.
“Did you tell anyone else about the lock?”
“My sister.”
“Anyone connected to me?”
May you like
“No.”
“Could Lydia have seen a message?”
