Chương 9
For the first time all day, I had no answer.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
The color left his face.
“Who is it?”
I asked.
Victor turned the phone toward me.
The caller ID showed a name I already knew.
Daniel Mercer.
Victor stared at the ringing phone until it stopped.
Nobody moved.
Then it rang again.
Abigail looked from the screen to her father.
“Who’s Daniel?”
Victor’s eyes lifted to mine.
I could see the question forming before he asked it.
“You know him.”
It was not quite an accusation.
Not yet.
“I spoke to him today.”
The change in Victor’s face was immediate.
“Why?”
“Because he contacted me.”
“About Naomi?”
“Yes.”
Charlotte tugged on my sleeve.
“Can I have water?”
The absurd normality of it nearly made me laugh.
“Of course.”
She walked past us toward the kitchen while Victor’s phone continued vibrating in his hand.
“You talked to some man Naomi was seeing, and you didn’t think I should know?”
“You learned his name less than a minute ago.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No, the point is that our daughters are standing here listening to you.”
Abigail folded her arms.
“I can go to my room.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Yes,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Take Charlotte.”
Charlotte returned with a glass filled so high that water sloshed over her fingers.
“Why?”
“Because the adults need five minutes.”
“Adults always say five minutes when they mean forever.”
“Tonight I mean five.”
She sighed and followed Abigail down the hallway.
Their bedroom door closed.
Victor immediately turned on me.
“How much did he tell you?”
I handed him the phone.
“It’s your call.”
He stared at it.
The ringing stopped again.
“Penelope.”
“Call him back.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he and Naomi were involved.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
“When?”
“Long enough that you should hear the details from him.”
His face went pale.
“Was she seeing him while she was with me?”
“Yes.”
He took one step backward.
The hallway wall caught his shoulder.
For all the cruelty he had shown me, watching him absorb the same kind of betrayal did not feel good.
That annoyed me.
Part of me wanted justice to feel cleaner.
Victor looked at the envelope still in my hand.
“Did you arrange this?”
I actually laughed.
It was short and sharp.
“Arrange what?”
“This man calling me the night before you leave.”
“You think I found Naomi’s other boyfriend, convinced him to reveal himself, and scheduled the whole thing around your custody panic?”
His face tightened.
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you implied.”
“I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Neither did I when you started lying to me.”
He looked away.
The sentence landed.
I saw it.
His phone buzzed with a voicemail notification.
“Listen to it.”
Victor did not move.
“Why are you pushing this?”
“Because if you’re going to threaten my move based on some sudden revelation about fatherhood, then you need to know what exactly caused the revelation.”
His eyes snapped back to mine.
“I’m not threatening you.”
“You brought me a petition.”
“I said I hadn’t filed it.”
“That doesn’t make it a greeting card.”
He flinched.
I hated how tired I sounded.
“I am leaving tomorrow, Victor.”
“I know.”
“The girls are leaving tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“You signed that agreement when you believed you were getting the family you preferred.”
His mouth opened.
I raised a hand.
“No.”
He stopped.
“You do not get to rewrite that now because the preferred version may not be yours.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he pressed the voicemail icon.
Daniel’s voice came through the speaker.
“Victor, my name is Daniel Mercer.”
Victor’s knuckles whitened.
“I’m contacting you because I was involved with Naomi Prescott during a period that overlaps your relationship with her.”
He shut his eyes.
Daniel continued.
“I believe there is a possibility that I am the biological father of her baby.”
The message ended with a request to speak privately.
Victor stood motionless.
Then he played it again.
The second time hurt him differently.
I could tell.
The first time he had been listening for shock.
The second time he was listening for loopholes.
“He says possibility.”
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means exactly what it says.”
“He could be lying.”
“Yes.”
Victor looked at me, startled.
“You believe that?”
“I believe people lie.”
Something changed in his expression.
Perhaps he understood the sentence had more than one address.
“He sent you proof?”
“Some.”
“What?”
“A photograph and dates.”
“What photograph?”
I took out my phone.
Then I hesitated.
The image was not mine.
Daniel had sent it to me without permission from anyone pictured.
I suddenly did not want to become the person passing evidence around a room because emotion demanded speed.
“Ask him.”
Victor’s face hardened.
“You’ve seen it.”
“Yes.”
“Then show me.”
“No.”
“Penelope.”
“You need to speak to Daniel directly.”
“So you get to know something about my life that I don’t?”
I stared at him.
The irony was so enormous that even he seemed to hear it after saying the words.
His shoulders dropped.
“Forget it.”
“I’m not trying to punish you.”
“I know.”
He looked toward the girls’ room.
“That would almost be easier.”
He called Daniel.
I started toward the kitchen.
“Stay.”
I stopped.
“I don’t need to hear this.”
“I do.”
“That doesn’t mean I do.”
“Please.”
The word surprised me.
Victor rarely used please unless he was speaking to clients, waiters, or strangers.
I remained near the doorway.
Daniel answered.
“Victor?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
“Thank you for calling back.”
“Don’t thank me.”
“All right.”
“When were you sleeping with Naomi?”
Victor asked it without greeting, context, or softness.
Daniel answered with a range of months.
Victor sat down slowly on the sofa.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“She was with me.”
“She was also with me.”
“You expect me to believe that.”
May you like
“No.”
Daniel’s voice remained level through the speaker.
