Chương 7
He would glance toward the clock.
He would feel the old instinct to fill empty space with productivity.
Then he would see Lucy watching him.
Not accusing him.
Just noticing.
And he would put the phone away.
The changes were small enough that nobody outside the house would have noticed them.
He started learning the names of the children in Lucy's preschool class.
He learned that one of her classmates always wore a superhero backpack even though he was afraid of thunderstorms.
He learned that Lucy's favorite color changed depending on the day.
“Yesterday it was yellow,” Richard said one morning while pouring cereal.
Lucy nodded.
“Today it is green.”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“Green looks like trees.”
Richard smiled.
That was all the explanation she needed.
He used to believe important conversations required important settings.
A meeting room.
A scheduled time.
A clear objective.
Lucy taught him that some of the most important things happened while cutting strawberries.
The legal situation with Eleanor continued quietly.
There was no public fight.
No dramatic courtroom battle.
Just documents.
Calls.
Meetings.
The kind of process that rarely appeared in stories but shaped real lives.
Eleanor’s attorney requested records of the household arrangements.
Richard’s attorney requested communication history and statements from people who had regular contact with Lucy.
Nobody wanted a war.
But nobody trusted the other side enough to lower their guard.
Richard disliked the process.
Not because he feared losing.
Because every document made Lucy feel less like a child and more like a case.
He hated that.
During one meeting, his attorney placed a folder on the table.
“You need to understand something.”
Richard looked up.
“What?”
“If this continues, both sides will have to discuss difficult details.”
Richard opened the folder.
“What kind of details?”
“Everything relevant.”
He knew what that meant.
Private moments.
Family problems.
Mistakes.
Things that should have stayed inside the home.
He closed the folder.
“Can we avoid making her part of this?”
The attorney studied him.
“That is the goal.”
“No.”
Richard shook his head.
“I mean truly avoid it.”
The attorney leaned back.
“That depends on both sides.”
Richard knew that.
He also knew something else.
He had spent his life winning arguments.
But winning was not always the same as protecting what mattered.
That realization made every decision harder.
A few days later, Marcus called him.
Richard almost did not answer.
Not because he was angry.
Because he knew Marcus only called when something bothered him.
“Everything okay?” Richard asked.
There was a pause.
“Probably.”
Richard smiled slightly.
“That is not a very convincing answer.”
Marcus gave a quiet laugh.
“I found something.”
Richard became serious.
“What?”
“I was reviewing the security logs.”
Richard frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to understand the timing from that day.”
Marcus explained that after the incident, he had reviewed the home security system to make sure the timeline was accurate.
Most of the footage had already been preserved.
But there was something unusual.
“One camera was turned away.”
Richard sat straighter.
“Turned away?”
“Yeah.”
“Accidentally?”
“I thought so at first.”
The silence returned.
“Then I looked at the maintenance records.”
Richard waited.
“Someone manually adjusted it the night before.”
Richard felt his stomach tighten.
“Who?”
“That is the problem.”
Marcus hesitated.
“The system says the change was made from inside the house.”
Richard looked toward the hallway.
Lucy was upstairs drawing.
The house suddenly felt larger.
And less familiar.
“Can you tell who did it?”
“Not from the system alone.”
Richard stood.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Marcus was quiet.
“Because I did not want to assume.”
That answer mattered.
Too many people around Richard had become comfortable making assumptions.
They saw money.
They saw power.
They saw a famous name.
Then they decided they knew the story.
Marcus had done the opposite.
He had waited.
He had checked.
He had admitted uncertainty.
“Send me everything,” Richard said.
After the call, Richard walked upstairs.
He found Lucy sitting at her desk with colored pencils spread around her.
“What are you making?”
She covered the paper quickly.
“Nothing.”
Richard smiled.
“Nothing usually has a lot of colors.”
Lucy looked at him.
“Can I ask something?”
“Always.”
“Are you and Eleanor fighting?”
Richard sat beside her.
“We are having a disagreement.”
“Like when I don't want to go to bed?”
He laughed softly.
“Kind of.”
“Who wins?”
The question caught him off guard.
“Sometimes nobody.”
Lucy looked confused.
Richard picked up a green pencil from the desk.
“Sometimes when people fight, they spend so much time trying to win that they forget what they are supposed to fix.”
Lucy considered that.
“Are you trying to fix it?”
“Yes.”
“With Eleanor?”
Richard looked at the drawing she had hidden.
“Mostly with our family.”
Lucy nodded.
She seemed satisfied.
Children often understood more than adults gave them credit for.
That evening, Richard reviewed the security information.
The camera adjustment bothered him.
Not because it proved Eleanor planned anything.
It did not.
The evidence was incomplete.
But it created a possibility.
Someone had wanted less visibility in that part of the kitchen.
Richard hated possibilities.
They were where fear lived.
He called Marcus again.
“Can you find out who accessed the system?”
“I am trying.”
“Without making accusations.”
“I know.”
“And Marcus?”
“Yeah?”
“If you find nothing, tell me that too.”
Marcus was silent for a moment.
“Most people only want information when it helps them.”
Richard looked at the dark window.
“I am trying not to be most people.”
The next day, another piece of information appeared.
This time it came from someone Richard did not expect.
Maria knocked on his office door holding an envelope.
“I found this while cleaning.”
Richard looked at it.
“What is it?”
“I don't know.”
The envelope had no name.
No label.
Nothing written on the outside.
Richard opened it carefully.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Only a few lines.
The handwriting was Eleanor’s.
Richard read it once.
May you like
Then again.
It was not an apology.
