Chương 13
Her breathing went silent.
I continued because I could not stop now.
“You called clients when he insulted them.”
“You apologized to me when he forgot birthdays.”
“You told Grandma he needed time after he stopped speaking to her.”
“You told Daniel not to take Dad personally when Dad humiliated him.”
“And today you hid my phone because Dad was afraid I would say no.”
“Enough.”
Her voice cracked hard.
“I said enough.”
For the first time, she sounded angry at me.
Good.
Anger was at least alive.
“You think I enjoyed any of this?”
“No.”
“You think I woke up wanting to dress my daughter for a marriage she didn’t want?”
“No.”
“You think I wanted to hear your father begging me in the kitchen at four in the morning because he believes nine hundred people will lose their jobs and everyone will remember him as the man who destroyed what his mother built?”
I said nothing.
“He is terrified.”
“So you made me pay for it.”
Mom began to answer.
Then stopped.
The silence was different this time.
Not avoidance.
Recognition.
Very small.
Very late.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Nobody in the room moved.
My chest hurt.
I had wanted her to admit it.
I had not expected the admission to feel worse.
“Did you know he was going to tell Daniel to restrain me?”
“No.”
“Did you know about the medication?”
“No.”
“Did you know Daniel was telling the hospital I wanted an abortion?”
“I knew Richard told him to say you had been considering it.”
My hand went cold around the phone.
Thomas swore under his breath.
Officer Mills wrote something down.
“You knew Daniel was going to lie to medical staff.”
“I knew Richard told him to talk to them.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“I knew.”
Renee closed her eyes for one second.
I stared at the wall beyond the bed.
There was a framed print of a sailboat there.
Blue water.
Red hull.
The kind of hospital art chosen by a committee trying not to offend anyone.
I concentrated on the boat until my voice worked again.
“Did Daniel agree immediately?”
Mom hesitated.
“No.”
“What happened?”
“They argued.”
“Where?”
“Outside your room.”
“When?”
“Early this morning.”
“Before the ultrasound?”
“Yes.”
“What did Daniel say?”
“He said he wouldn’t sign anything medical for you.”
“Then why did he tell them I wanted it?”
“Your father threatened him.”
“With the deed fraud.”
“Yes.”
The pieces clicked together without fitting neatly.
Daniel had lied.
Daniel had been coerced.
Daniel had still tied me down.
Both could be true.
I hated that truth could hold more than one thing at once.
“What exactly did Dad threaten?”
“He said if Daniel didn’t cooperate, he would report him for fraud and tell you Daniel had agreed to transfer the house.”
“Daniel did agree.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know?”
“Not until this morning.”
“Why did Daniel agree to the house transfer?”
“Richard told him it would be temporary.”
“That’s what Daniel said.”
“He told Daniel the creditors were coming after everything connected to the family.”
“My house isn’t connected to the company.”
“Your father said because of the trust, they might argue otherwise.”
Renee shook her head slightly, not at me, but at the logic.
“And Daniel believed him?”
“He was scared.”
There was that word again.
Scared.
As if fear were a solvent capable of washing signatures clean.
“Mom, where are you right now?”
Another pause.
“In the parking garage.”
“You left Dad upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He told me to.”
I almost laughed.
Even now.
“Do you have the dress?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“I left it with him.”
I looked toward the door.
The absurdity of that mattered suddenly.
My father, dying of pancreatic cancer, had apparently been removed from a hospital floor while carrying the dress he intended his already-married daughter to wear to another marriage.
No one could invent a family that ridiculous and expect to be believed.
“Go home,” I said.
“Claire, please let me come back up.”
“No.”
“I need to see you.”
“You already saw me.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
Her crying started again.
I did not rescue her from it.
“Go home.”
“What happens now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you going to the police?”
Officer Mills looked down at his notebook.
“Yes.”
Mom made a wounded sound.
“Your father is sick.”
“And I am still his daughter.”
“You could destroy him.”
“He made choices.”
“You don’t know what an investigation will do.”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“But I know what doing nothing did.”
She was silent for so long that I checked the screen to make sure the call had not dropped.
Finally she said, “I’m sorry.”
Not I’m sorry you’re upset.
Not I’m sorry this happened.
Just the words.
They were too small.
They were also the first honest apology I had heard from her.
“I can’t do anything with that yet.”
“I know.”
She sounded like she meant it.
I ended the call.
My hand stayed raised for a second after the screen went dark.
Then it dropped against the blanket.
Thomas sat back down.
No one spoke.
The quiet stretched until Marisol entered carrying fresh gauze and announced that my ankle had decided to bleed through another dressing.
I almost thanked it for changing the subject.
She worked without unnecessary conversation.
When she removed the old bandage, the skin around my ankle looked purple and swollen, with a raw line where the fabric restraint had rubbed against it.
Thomas looked away.
I noticed.
“You can look.”
His gaze returned reluctantly.
“You were part of the reason this happened.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t tie it.”
“No.”
“You didn’t ask Daniel to.”
“No.”
“But you came here knowing Dad was talking about marrying me.”
“Yes.”
“And you spent thirty seconds considering whether there was a legal version of that.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Then look.”
He did.
Marisol cleaned the abrasion.
The antiseptic burned.
May you like
I sucked in a breath.
Thomas did not turn away again.
