Chương 3
“I’ve spent four years using my own name.”
“That was before this morning.”
“This morning I found out a billionaire’s family has been reading my mail. I’m not giving them a new name to take.”
Lena had no answer to that.
The triplets were hungry. Fear had made them obedient through the drive, but the moment the hotel door closed, Owen began to cry because the rabbit’s left ear was bent. Ivy wanted apple juice. Noah stood beside the window and asked whether the building across the street had a fire escape.
Maya ordered grilled cheese, cut fruit, and milk from room service. It cost more than a week of groceries. She stared at the total on the screen until Lena quietly said Sebastian would cover it.
“No.”
“The room is already being charged to his attorney.”
“Then I’ll pay the attorney back.”
Lena leaned against the desk. “You don’t have to win every small fight.”
“I don’t know which ones are small yet.”
The woman’s mouth moved as if she might smile, but she did not.
While the children ate, Maya sat on the carpet between the beds and fixed the rabbit’s ear with two stitches from the travel sewing kit. Owen watched with grave concentration.
“Not too tight,” she said.
“I know.”
“You did it tight last time.”
“I did not.”
“You made him look surprised.”
Ivy laughed into her sandwich. The sound loosened something in the room.
Noah did not laugh. He sat cross-legged near the window, the stuffed dog in his lap.
Maya finished the stitches and held the rabbit up. “Better?”
Owen nodded.
Noah traced the worn seam on the dog’s back.
“Is the angry man my dad?”
Maya put the sewing kit aside.
Lena looked toward the connecting door. “I’ll be in the other room.”
When she was gone, Maya sat beside Noah.
“His name is Sebastian.”
“That’s a big name.”
“It is.”
“Is he?”
She had promised herself she would never lie to them about their father. She had simply waited for an age when the truth would not be a collection of frightening words.
“He might be,” she said. “We’re going to do a test.”
Noah considered this. “Like at the doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Will it hurt?”
“A cotton swab inside your cheek.”
He opened his mouth and touched his tongue to one side.
Ivy climbed off the bed. “Do I get one?”
“All three of you.”
Owen clutched the rabbit. “I don’t want a dad test.”
“You don’t have to decide anything today.”
“Does he live in the giant house?”
“Yes.”
“Do we?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly that Noah looked relieved.
Maya tucked the blanket around his legs though the room was not cold.
“Why did the old man come to our house?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet.”
“He said you should stop.”
“Stop what?”
Noah’s eyes dropped to the dog.
Maya waited.
Children rarely told a story in the order adults expected. They began with the color of a chair, or a snack they had dropped, or a noise from outside. If she hurried him, the memory would fold in on itself.
“He said stop sending things,” Noah whispered.
“Letters?”
“He said papers.”
Maya felt the blood drain from her hands.
“What else did he say?”
Noah rubbed the dog’s ear between his fingers. “He said the bad men would see.”
“Did he say who the bad men were?”
The boy shook his head.
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Did he touch Ivy or Owen?”
“No.”
“Did he give you the silver pin?”
“It fell.”
“From his coat?”
Noah nodded. “I put it in my pocket because it looked like the picture at the big house.”
“What picture?”
“The one in the car.”
Maya glanced toward the connecting door. “What car?”
“The black car after preschool.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Noah, did you get into a black car?”
“No. Miss Amy said no.”
“When?”
He frowned. “The day with the red paint.”
Two weeks earlier, the preschool class had painted cardboard fire trucks. Maya remembered because Noah had come home with red streaks in his hair.
“Who was in the car?”
“The old man.”
Augustus had not visited once.
He had been watching them.
Across the river, Sebastian remained in the atrium after everyone else had been ordered into separate rooms.
The envelopes lay in neat rows on the table now. Eleven letters, sorted by date. The earliest had a crease where Maya had folded it around a sonogram image. The latest contained copies of Noah’s medical records and a note written in the exhausted hand of a mother asking for family history.
Sebastian read that one twice.
His chief attorney, Daniel Reed, stood at the opposite end of the table. Daniel was sixty, careful, and one of the few people who had worked for both Augustus and Sebastian without pretending their interests were always the same.
“The file was found in a locked cabinet in the old library,” he said.
“Who found it?”
“Clarissa.”
Sebastian looked toward the empty staircase.
“She says she was searching for the original merger documents.”
“Why?”
“She had begun to suspect the Hart agreement gave Augustus authority over her family’s voting shares after the marriage.”
“It did.”
Daniel removed his glasses. “She wasn’t supposed to discover that until after the wedding.”
Sebastian’s stare hardened.
“I drafted the contract you approved,” Daniel said. “I did not draft the side letter.”
“There’s always a side letter with him.”
“This one transferred proxy authority to Augustus if you were incapacitated or removed by the board.”
“Clarissa found the file while looking for it.”
“She found both.”
Sebastian touched the edge of Maya’s first envelope.
“Why bring Maya here?”
“Clarissa contacted the attorney who mailed the letters. The return addresses led to Maya. She called her this morning.”
“Without telling me.”
“She planned to confront Augustus privately. Maya refused to come unless you were present.”
“Smart.”
May you like
“She also refused any payment for the meeting.”
Sebastian looked up. “Why would anyone offer her money?”
