Chương 11
"Me and some lawyers."
"Lawyers are expensive."
Elena covered her face with one hand.
Vincent looked at Sophie.
"Who told you that?"
"Mom."
"Your mother is correct."
"Are yours expensive?"
"Very."
"That's bad."
"Sometimes."
Sophie seemed to find this answer acceptable.
Elena did not.
"You don't have to answer every question."
"I've learned that she keeps asking."
"Exactly."
Vincent sat.
"I found the photographer who took the first picture."
Elena straightened.
"Who?"
"Freelancer."
"Was he following you?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Marco confirmed he was already there."
"And the hospital photo?"
"Still tracing it."
Elena glanced at Sophie.
"How?"
"People who posted it usually leave trails."
"Vincent."
"Legal trails."
"Better."
He waited.
"I said I'd tell you first."
Her face softened despite herself.
"I noticed."
That small acknowledgment felt larger than it should have.
Sophie climbed down from the bed.
"Can I get juice?"
Mr. Chen lifted a small carton.
"No apple left."
"I want orange."
"You said orange is disgusting."
"Yesterday."
Mr. Chen stared at her.
"Children change."
Sophie nodded solemnly.
"Very much."
He muttered something in Mandarin and took her toward the vending area.
Elena watched them leave.
"She likes him."
"He likes her."
"He pretends he doesn't like anybody."
"Convincing."
Elena turned back.
"The social worker came by."
Vincent waited.
"She said if the test confirms you're her father, there are legal issues we should discuss."
His shoulders tightened.
"I'm not filing for custody."
"I know."
"You know?"
"I believe you."
The words surprised both of them.
Elena looked down at the blanket.
Vincent said nothing.
"I still need a lawyer," she said.
"Yes."
"Not yours."
"Agreed."
Her head came up.
"That was easy."
"It should be."
She watched him with suspicion.
Vincent leaned back.
"If Sophie's mine, you should have someone whose only job is protecting your interests."
"And hers."
"Mostly hers."
Elena studied him.
"Who are you and what have you done with Vincent Moretti?"
"He had a cardiac episode."
"That explains it."
He smiled.
For a few seconds, the room felt almost normal.
Then Elena looked toward the door.
"What happens with your life if the test is positive?"
Vincent understood what she meant.
Not his schedule.
Not his apartment.
His life.
The men around him.
The businesses.
The history behind his name.
"I don't know."
"That's not reassuring."
"It's honest."
"Your world isn't safe."
"No."
"You say that very calmly."
"I've had practice."
"I haven't."
Vincent looked at her.
"I know."
Elena folded the edge of the blanket between her fingers.
"After Sophie was born, every time a black car slowed outside my building, I looked out the window."
Vincent went still.
"For how long?"
"A year."
He looked toward the floor.
"I would check license plates."
She laughed softly, embarrassed by the memory.
"I didn't even know what I was checking for."
"Elena."
"I changed grocery stores twice."
"You should have called me."
She stared at him.
"I thought you knew."
He absorbed that.
Then she continued.
"Eventually nothing happened."
Her voice grew quieter.
"That was almost worse."
"Why?"
"Because then I had to accept maybe Carlo had told the truth."
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"That you knew and didn't care."
The room seemed suddenly too small.
"I cared."
"I know that now."
"No."
He looked at her.
"I cared then too."
Elena's eyes filled.
She looked away before the tears could fall.
Vincent did not reach for her.
He wanted to.
That was exactly why he didn't.
She swallowed.
"I spent years hating you because it was easier than wondering."
"Wondering what?"
"Whether I should have tried harder."
Vincent shook his head.
"You tried."
"Not enough."
"You went to Carlo."
"I could have gone again."
"You were pregnant and scared."
"I could have found Marco."
Marco's name made Vincent look toward the door.
"You didn't know you could trust him."
"I knew he liked me."
"He liked your lasagna."
"He liked me."
"Both can be true."
Elena smiled through the tears she was trying not to acknowledge.
Vincent looked at the hospital floor.
"You don't get to carry Carlo's decision."
"Neither do you."
He looked up.
She held his gaze.
"You're doing it."
Vincent said nothing.
"You're putting all of this on him because he's dead and you can't yell at him."
"He lied to both of us."
"Yes."
"But?"
"But you still told me I meant nothing."
The sentence reopened something.
Elena continued.
"You still built a life where your uncle believed taking away your child was protecting you."
Vincent's face hardened.
"I'm not denying that."
"You are a little."
He almost argued.
Then stopped.
"Maybe."
Elena nodded.
"That's the problem I don't know how to solve."
Neither spoke for a while.
Sophie returned carrying orange juice and a chocolate pudding.
Mr. Chen carried nothing.
"You said juice," Elena said.
"Pudding happened."
Mr. Chen pointed at Sophie.
"Her lawyer."
Sophie climbed onto the chair and peeled back the pudding lid.
Vincent watched her carefully lick chocolate from the foil.
Something about the ordinary movement struck him harder than every photograph.
She belonged to a life that had continued without him.
A complete life.
Messy.
Expensive.
Funny.
Frightening.
He could enter it.
He could not erase the years before he arrived.
His phone vibrated.
Marco.
Vincent stood.
"I need a minute."
Elena watched him leave.
Marco waited at the end of the hall.
His expression was wrong.
"What?"
"We found the second source."
"Hospital employee?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Marco glanced toward Elena's room.
"One of ours."
Vincent's face changed.
"Whose?"
"Anthony Serrano."
Vincent stared at him.
Anthony had worked security for the Moretti organization for nine years.
Reliable.
Quiet.
Married.
Two children.
He had driven Vincent often enough to know his routes.
"Why?"
"He sold the picture."
"For money?"
"Looks like."
"How much?"
"Three grand."
Vincent almost laughed.
His daughter's privacy had been worth three thousand dollars to a man who had eaten at his table.
"Where is he?"
"Office."
Vincent turned toward the elevator.
Marco caught his arm.
May you like
"You promised."
Vincent looked at the hand.
