Chương 5
“You knew he was pursuing the Riverside supply contract,” I said.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“You asked me not to involve myself in his career.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I did warn you.”
“You said he talked too much.”
“He does.”
“That is not the same as saying he was using our marriage to get close to you.”
My grandfather’s jaw tightened.
“I had no proof of that.”
“You never need proof before forming an opinion.”
“I need it before damaging someone’s livelihood.”
The elevator doors opened. Neither of us moved until the nurse cleared her throat.
In my room, my grandfather tried to adjust the blinds and pulled the wrong cord. The entire shade collapsed sideways. The nurse fixed it while he stood with his hands in his pockets, looking like a schoolboy who had broken something expensive.
I laughed, then grabbed my abdomen because laughing hurt.
He looked offended. “That mechanism is badly designed.”
“You own the mechanism.”
“I own the hospital. Apparently, the blinds have organized independently.”
For twenty seconds, my life contained nothing but a crooked blind and the strange pleasure of seeing Silas Vale defeated by a plastic cord.
Then my phone lit with a message from Derek.
You ambushed me.
A second arrived.
You never told me who you were.
Then:
We need to talk without your grandfather controlling everything.
I read the messages twice.
My grandfather watched my face. “What did he say?”
I turned the phone over.
“Nothing useful.”
He leaned back in the visitor chair. “You used to tell me everything.”
“I was nine.”
“You were more efficient.”
I closed my eyes.
He stayed until nearly three in the morning, asleep in the chair with his bow tie loosened and his hands folded over his stomach. At some point a nurse covered him with a hospital blanket. I woke before dawn to the sound of him snoring softly and the breast pump chugging beside my bed.
Milk collected in plastic bottles by fractions of an ounce. The lactation consultant had told me not to measure my worth in milliliters. I measured anyway.
At seven, Tasha brought me a clear evidence bag.
Inside was the ivory coat.
“The visitor left it in the changing room,” she said. “Security logged it before returning it.”
I stared at the folded cashmere. One pearl button was missing.
“I don’t want it.”
“You don’t have to decide today.”
“She wore it against her skin.”
Tasha’s eyebrows rose.
“That came out harsher than I meant.”
“No, it didn’t.”
She placed the bag in the closet.
“I heard what he said,” I told her.
“I know.”
“You’re going to be asked about it.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Tasha pulled the rolling stool closer and sat.
“Mrs. Shaw, my ex-husband served me papers at my mother’s funeral.”
I looked at her.
“He waited until after the pastor finished,” she said. “He thought that made him considerate.”
A surprised laugh escaped me.
“He was always big on timing. Terrible at kindness. Good at timing.”
“What happened?”
“I signed nothing, went home, ate a whole grocery-store cake, and hired the meanest woman in Queens.”
“Did it work?”
“The cake? Absolutely.”
I smiled despite myself.
Tasha stood. “Your son had a quieter night. Your daughter is still showing signs of infection, but the team is adjusting her antibiotics.”
The room changed again. It happened that quickly in the hospital. One sentence could return every other problem to its proper size.
“What kind of infection?”
“They’re not certain yet. Dr. Benson will talk to you on rounds.”
My grandfather woke at the word infection.
By nine, Derek had sent fourteen messages. Some were angry. Some sounded almost reasonable. He said the transfer was temporary. He said he had panicked. He said he had been under pressure at work. He said the woman’s pregnancy had changed everything. He said he had not meant that he would never support Noah and Emma, only that he could not be responsible for day-to-day care. He said my secrecy had made honest intimacy impossible.
At ten, his lawyer emailed my new attorney, Naomi Feld, offering to “de-escalate unfortunate misunderstandings.”
Naomi arrived wearing gray trousers, flat shoes, and the expression of a person who had already found three things to dislike before entering the room. She read Derek’s messages on my phone.
“Do not delete anything,” she said.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“People always say that. Then they get angry and clean up their message threads as if preparing for company.”
She asked how much I had taken before signing, what medications were in my system, whether Derek had ever threatened me, whether he had access to my devices, whether he knew the passwords to my design business, whether the apartment contained documents relating to my trust.
My stomach dropped.
“My mother’s letters are there.”
“What kind of letters?”
“Personal.”
“Financial information?”
“Some.”
“Originals?”
“Yes.”
Naomi looked at my grandfather.
“Can the trust access the apartment?”
He nodded. “The management company retains an emergency code.”
“We will not use it without notice,” Naomi said. “Mr. Shaw is a lawful occupant. Wealth does not create a burglary exception.”
My grandfather’s nostrils flared.
“I am aware.”
“You looked like you were inventing one.”
He disliked her immediately. I hired her before lunch.
The first emergency motion Naomi filed did not ask a judge to punish Derek. It asked the court to prevent either party from selling, hiding, destroying, or transferring marital property. She included the bank records, my medication chart, Tasha’s incident report, and Derek’s messages. A hearing was scheduled for Friday.
Friday felt impossibly distant.
Emma’s infection worsened that afternoon.
May you like
Her oxygen requirement increased. The neonatologist explained blood cultures, inflammatory markers, and the possibility that the central line had become contaminated. He used careful language. Possible. Concerning. Treatable. No guarantees.
I sat beside Emma’s incubator for three hours with one hand through the port, my smallest finger resting against her palm. She could not grip it fully. She tried.
