Chương 6
He had interpreted her care as efficiency.
Now every kindness had acquired another possible meaning.
Dana slid a notepad toward him. “We need a timeline of all communications you believed came from Rebecca.”
“I can give you emails.”
“We have those. I need your memory.”
He almost said he did not trust it.
Instead he began.
The first message had arrived three weeks after Rebecca’s departure. It said the assignment had been extended and communication would remain limited. The language had sounded formal, but Rebecca often became formal when under pressure. Two weeks later came another message asking him not to contact her command. Then silence.
He sent letters through a Navy liaison. No reply.
Vanessa told him Rebecca’s attorney had called to request financial disclosures. Eleanor said Rebecca was preparing to leave the marriage. A month later, Julian received an email from an unfamiliar address saying Rebecca needed space and did not want him waiting for her.
“Did you verify the address?” Dana asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
He looked at her.
She did not soften the question.
“Because the message said what I was already afraid of.”
Martin shifted uncomfortably.
Julian continued. He called Rebecca’s known number until it was disconnected. He contacted a base office and was told they could not discuss assignment details. He asked Eleanor to use her political contacts; she returned two days later saying Rebecca had requested privacy. He believed her.
“Did you speak directly to any contact?” Dana asked.
“No.”
“Did you ask Rebecca’s family?”
“She has no close family.”
Rebecca’s father had died when she was twenty-two. Her mother had died six years later. There was an aunt in Arizona whom Rebecca called at Christmas and avoided discussing. The Navy was the nearest thing she had to an extended family, and Julian had never learned how to enter it without feeling like a guest.
Dana wrote something down.
“Did you hire an investigator?”
“No.”
“Did you consider it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He rubbed his thumb against his wedding ring.
“My mother said it would humiliate Rebecca and make reconciliation impossible.”
No one spoke.
Julian looked toward the dark window of the conference room. His own reflection stared back in a suit chosen by Vanessa and a tie Eleanor had given him for his birthday.
“How much did I participate?” he asked.
Dana set down her pen. “In the alleged conduct?”
“In believing it.”
“That is not a legal question.”
“It is the only question I have.”
She watched him for a moment. “You participated in ways the investigation may not measure.”
He appreciated her refusal to comfort him.
His phone vibrated again. This time the screen showed Miriam Cho.
He stood so quickly that the chair rolled backward.
Dana said, “You may want personal counsel present.”
“I want to answer.”
He left the room and took the call in the hallway.
“This is Julian.”
Miriam’s voice was cool. “Captain Hale has authorized me to coordinate a supervised paternity test and temporary communication protocol.”
He closed his eyes.
“When?”
“The test can be performed tomorrow morning at an accredited facility.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You will also receive a proposed interim parenting arrangement after results are confirmed.”
“Can I speak to Rebecca?”
“Not today.”
“Can I see Ivy?”
“Not today.”
The words hurt more than he expected. He deserved them, which did not make them hurt less.
“I understand.”
“There is another issue. A photographer was outside the clinic when we arrived.”
Julian opened his eyes. “My mother?”
“We do not know. No images have appeared publicly yet.”
“I’ll tell communications to—”
“Do not make public statements about Captain Hale or the child without approval.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Biologically, that appears highly likely. Legally, you are entering a process.”
He gripped the phone. “I’m not trying to claim ownership.”
“Good. Because Rebecca will hear it that way if you move too fast.”
He lowered his voice. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
“I will tell her you said that.”
“No. Tell her—”
He stopped. There was no sentence large enough, and anything polished would sound like a defense.
Miriam waited.
“Tell her I will follow the protocol.”
“That will matter more.”
The call ended.
Julian stood alone in the corridor, staring at a framed photograph of Summit’s first hospital campus. His father stood in the center of the image beside Eleanor, both of them twenty years younger. Julian, barely out of graduate school, hovered near the edge with one hand in his pocket and the uncertain smile of someone who had not yet learned the family expression.
Vanessa emerged from a side conference room with an attorney Julian did not know.
She stopped when she saw him.
The attorney touched her elbow. “You do not have to speak.”
Vanessa wiped beneath one eye. “I want to.”
Julian looked at her.
Up close, she appeared exhausted. A faint line of mascara marked her lower lid. She had always carried mints in her left pocket, and now he saw the familiar square outline beneath the ivory fabric.
“Why?” he asked.
Her attorney began to object.
Vanessa shook her head. “Because your mother said Rebecca was leaving you and would use the pregnancy to take control of the company shares held in your marital trust.”
Julian stared at her. “Pregnancy.”
“She told me before you knew.”
“How long before?”
“Five months.”
The corridor seemed to tilt.
Vanessa continued quickly, as if speed might make confession easier. “She said Rebecca had become unstable during deployment. She said there were concerns about the baby and that you couldn’t be told until paternity was established.”
“You believed her?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
Vanessa looked toward the floor.
“Later,” Julian said.
“I didn’t know how to stop.”
“That is not an answer.”
Her attorney stepped between them slightly. “Mr. Prescott—”
Vanessa spoke over him. “Your mother knew about my brother.”
May you like
Julian frowned.
“He had gambling debts. He used my identity for loans. I covered them because my parents would have lost their house. Mrs. Prescott found out during a background review. She said she could report me for failing to disclose financial vulnerability or she could help.”
