Chương 10
“Wonderful.”
Naomi did not sound impressed.
“Keep not doing that.”
Marcus turned away to hide a smile.
Elias noticed.
“I can hear you breathing, Marcus.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Naomi continued.
“If this turns into Billionaire Rescues Vulnerable Woman From Evil Husband, Daniel’s lawyer will use that narrative against her.”
I felt heat rise up my neck.
Elias looked at me.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Naomi asked.
“Yes.”
“Then let Ava own her story.”
The phrase embarrassed me because it sounded almost like something printed on a mug.
But the idea underneath it mattered.
Elias handed the tablet back.
“I’ll stay out of the legal strategy.”
Naomi nodded.
“Thank you.”
Then she added, “And please stop housing potential witnesses under one roof if we can avoid it.”
Marcus frowned.
“Who?”
“You.”
“I’m not a witness.”
“You found information about the building system.”
“That doesn’t make me—”
“It might.”
He looked personally wounded by the concept.
Naomi turned back to me.
“I’ll send you a draft affidavit.”
“What’s an affidavit?”
“Your sworn written statement.”
I swallowed.
“You mean I have to write everything?”
“You tell me.”
“I draft.”
“You correct me.”
“You sign only when every sentence is true.”
“Even the ugly parts?”
“Especially those.”
The call ended.
For the next two hours, I spoke until my voice became rough.
Naomi asked exact questions.
Dates.
Rooms.
Names.
Where Daniel stood.
Who touched me.
What I said.
What the babies were wearing.
Whether I lost consciousness.
What time I left the apartment.
How far I walked.
I hated her by four o’clock.
She knew it.
“That’s fine.”
“What’s fine?”
“You being angry with me.”
“I’m not angry.”
“You just told me the third-floor landing had beige carpet in a tone usually reserved for murder confessions.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“It was ugly carpet.”
“There.”
“What?”
“Useful detail.”
“How?”
“Because you remember it.”
I closed my eyes.
“I remember stupid things.”
“People do.”
She let the silence stretch.
“Do you remember what you had on your feet?”
“One slipper.”
“Color?”
“Blue.”
“What happened to the other?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good.”
I opened my eyes.
“Good?”
“You didn’t invent an answer.”
Something about that made me cry again.
I was starting to resent tears.
They arrived without permission and made everyone lower their voices.
Naomi did not lower hers.
“Drink some water.”
I did.
“What happened when you reached the second floor?”
I stared at the wall.
Peter.
That was what happened.
Peter had come down behind us.
He had been pale.
He had looked at the blood running down my leg.
“Owen told him to go back upstairs.”
“Who?”
“Peter.”
Naomi stopped typing.
“What did Peter do?”
“He said they should call somebody.”
“Police?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ambulance?”
“Maybe.”
“Exact words if you can.”
I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.
“He said, ‘This isn’t right.’”
Naomi waited.
“Then?”
“Daniel said it was none of his business.”
“You heard Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“So Daniel was in the stairwell?”
My hands dropped.
I stared at her.
I had been saying Daniel put me out.
But in my memories, he had existed in pieces.
His voice behind me.
His shoes.
His hand opening the downstairs door.
I had never arranged them into a clean sequence.
“Yes.”
Naomi leaned closer.
“Where exactly?”
“Behind Peter.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Not then.”
“What did he do?”
“He opened the door.”
“Which door?”
“The building entrance.”
“And then?”
I remembered the rush of cold.
My lungs hurting.
Grace crying beneath my sweater.
Lily making no sound.
“He told Owen to get me outside.”
Naomi’s fingers stopped moving.
“Exact words?”
I could hear them.
Not because they were dramatic.
Because Daniel had sounded annoyed.
“Put her out before somebody sees.”
Naomi remained still.
“That sentence goes in.”
I nodded.
Then another memory surfaced.
Peter again.
His hand grabbing Daniel’s arm.
Daniel jerking away.
“He argued with him.”
“Peter?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t remember all of it.”
“What do you remember?”
“He asked what was supposed to happen to the babies.”
“And Daniel?”
“He said they weren’t staying there.”
The room seemed too warm.
Naomi said, “Did he say where they were going?”
“No.”
“Did you hear anyone discuss adoption?”
“No.”
“Relatives?”
“No.”
“Anything about taking them elsewhere?”
I shook my head.
Then stopped.
“There was a woman.”
Naomi looked up.
“What woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“When?”
“Earlier.”
My pulse quickened.
“Before the cousins came.”
“Where?”
“In the kitchen.”
I could not see her face clearly in memory.
Only a camel-colored coat.
Gloves.
A red leather folder.
“She spoke to Daniel’s mother.”
“Did you hear what they said?”
“Some.”
“What?”
I fought through the fog.
Money.
Not a number.
A phrase.
“Placement fee.”
Naomi became very still.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“Do not guess.”
“I’m not.”
I gripped the blanket.
“I heard somebody say placement fee.”
“Who?”
“I think the woman.”
“Anything else?”
“Healthy newborns.”
Naomi’s expression changed.
Not fear.
Calculation.
“Did you see paperwork?”
“She had a folder.”
“What color?”
“Red.”
“Did anyone ask you to sign anything?”
“No.”
“Did they talk to you?”
“She looked at me once.”
“What did she say?”
The memory came back with an almost insulting smallness.
“She asked if I needed water.”
Naomi exhaled.
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“Did she see the babies?”
“I think so.”
“Did she touch them?”
“No.”
“Did Daniel say her name?”
I shook my head.
Then Grace made a small sound beside me.
That sound unlocked another piece.
“Monica.”
Naomi looked up.
“He called her Monica.”
“Last name?”
“No.”
“Anything about where she worked?”
“No.”
“Do not chase it yourself.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
She looked at the screen for another second.
“I’m going to tell Officer Reyes there may have been an unidentified woman present discussing a placement fee.”
My stomach turned.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You have an idea.”
“I have several.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
May you like
Anger flared.
“You keep telling me to own my story and then you hide things.”
