Chương 5
He was not looking into the camera. He did not know Sarah could still access it.
He placed one hand on the crib rail and remained there for almost a minute.
Sarah watched until he left.
Then she disconnected the account.
In the morning, Claire arrived with coffee and found Sarah sitting on the kitchen floor because the only available outlet near the bottle warmer was behind the refrigerator.
“You look terrible,” Claire said.
“Thank you.”
“I meant emotionally.”
“That’s better.”
Claire handed her a cup and sat on the floor in her hospital coat.
For several minutes they listened to the refrigerator rattle.
“Mom called me,” Claire said.
Sarah closed her eyes. “Of course she did.”
“She wants to know why no one told her.”
“Because she would have told me to give him another chance.”
“She did say marriage is complicated.”
“Marriage is complicated. Forging my name is less complicated.”
Claire picked at the paper sleeve around her coffee.
“Mom stayed with Dad after the nurse.”
“I know.”
“She thinks surviving something proves it was survivable.”
Sarah looked at her sister.
Claire shrugged. “That sounded better in my head.”
“No. It sounded accurate.”
Their father’s affair had lasted eleven months. Their mother had remained married to him for another nine years, long enough for every family meal to become a quiet negotiation. Sarah remembered the way her mother polished the same section of the dining table while waiting for him to come home.
She had promised herself she would never become that woman.
Then she had spent months polishing Richard’s explanations until they looked reasonable.
Dana called before noon.
The foundation had placed Richard on temporary leave from all financial authority pending an independent review. His ceremonial command had reassigned him from public duties while the allegations were examined.
“He’ll blame me,” Sarah said.
“He may,” Dana replied. “That does not mean you caused the underlying facts.”
“You haven’t seen him when people stop admiring him.”
“No. But I have represented people who confused admiration with oxygen.”
The first video call with Ethan lasted seven minutes.
Sarah propped the phone against the lemon-shaped bowl while Ethan lay on a blanket kicking both legs. Richard appeared from his study at the mansion. The damaged doorframe was not visible behind him.
“Hey, buddy,” he said.
His voice changed when he spoke to Ethan. It became softer and less certain. Sarah had heard that voice during the first week after the birth, before midnight calls and foundation emergencies returned.
Ethan stared beyond the phone.
Richard smiled. “You’re looking at the ceiling fan, aren’t you?”
Sarah did not answer.
“He likes the one in the sunroom,” Richard continued. “The slow setting.”
“I know.”
Richard looked up. “I wasn’t telling you.”
“Then who?”
He exhaled through his nose.
For a few seconds neither spoke. Ethan hiccupped.
Richard’s face softened again.
“Can you move the camera closer?”
Sarah moved it.
“Not that close. I can’t see his hands.”
She adjusted it.
“Thank you.”
The courtesy sounded formal enough to hurt.
After the call, Richard sent an email through the parenting application.
Please send his feeding schedule, medication information, sleep log, and pediatrician contact details.
Sarah stared at the message. Richard had attended every pediatric appointment. The medication was vitamin D.
She began typing an angry reply, deleted it, and forwarded the information in a plain list.
Dana praised her restraint.
Sarah resented the praise.
The first supervised visit took place in a beige room with plastic toys, a sofa wrapped in wipeable fabric, and a clock that ticked loudly enough to make privacy impossible.
Richard arrived early with a new stuffed elephant and two bags of supplies Ethan did not need. He wore a navy sweater and khaki pants. Without the uniform, he looked younger and more tired.
A social worker named Melinda explained the rules. Sarah would wait in another room. Richard could feed, change, and hold Ethan. Melinda would remain present.
Richard listened without interrupting.
When Sarah transferred Ethan into his arms, Richard’s bandaged hand made the movement awkward.
“Support his neck,” Sarah said.
His eyes lifted to hers. “I know how to hold him.”
“I know you know.”
“Then don’t say it like that.”
Melinda looked between them.
Sarah released the baby.
Ethan’s face crumpled at the change in temperature, then settled against Richard’s chest. Richard closed his eyes for half a second.
Sarah left before either of them could see what the sight did to her.
In the waiting room, a television played a home-renovation show with the sound muted. A couple argued near the vending machine about a missing parking receipt. Sarah sat beneath a framed photograph of a sailboat and tried not to imagine Richard’s hands around Ethan.
She did not believe he would hurt the baby.
She also had not believed he would forge her name.
Fear was exhausting because it did not require consistency.
After the visit, Melinda reported that Richard had been attentive, appropriate, and calm. He changed Ethan’s diaper, prepared a bottle, and spent twenty minutes walking in circles because the baby would not settle.
“He seems bonded,” Melinda said.
Sarah hated the small rush of relief she felt.
Richard handed Ethan back at the doorway.
“He has a red spot behind his left ear,” he said.
“It’s dry skin.”
“Did the pediatrician see it?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Moisturizer.”
“Which kind?”
Sarah looked at him. “The same kind you bought three tubes of.”
His mouth nearly formed a smile. It disappeared before reaching his eyes.
“Right.”
He touched Ethan’s sock with one finger.
Then he looked at Sarah’s bare hand.
“Did you give the ring to the police?”
“No.”
“It’s at the house.”
“I assumed.”
“I put it away.”
“Okay.”
“I didn’t throw it out.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Melinda opened the door wider, a quiet signal that the exchange was over.
Richard stepped back.
May you like
“Sarah, the foundation money isn’t what you think.”
She adjusted the carrier strap on her shoulder.
