Chương 8
Neither side knew Mila’s name at first.
By lunch, someone had posted it.
Adrian called the school.
The principal had already restricted visitors and asked teachers not to discuss the video. Mrs. Wynn said Mila was quiet but participating. She had brought the rabbit despite the school rule limiting toys to Fridays.
“We made an exception,” Mrs. Wynn said.
“Thank you.”
“She told another child the rabbit witnessed a crime.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“What did the other child say?”
“That rabbits can’t testify.”
“What did Mila say?”
“That this one has good ears.”
He heard Mrs. Wynn smile, then become serious.
“She asked if strangers could come into the school.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That the doors stay locked and adults must check in. We reviewed which adults she can leave with.”
“Did she mention the party?”
“Only that people wanted her to say something she didn’t want to say.”
“Don’t ask her for more.”
“I won’t.”
After the call, Adrian found an email from Warren Pike.
The subject line read: Urgent Family Matter.
The letter beneath it was polite enough to qualify as hostile.
It expressed concern for Mila’s emotional stability, cited Adrian’s “publicly aggressive conduct,” and requested confirmation that Eleanor’s established access to her granddaughter would continue. It also noted that several financial arrangements established by the late Thomas Voss had been administered with an expectation of ongoing family involvement.
No explicit threat.
No need for one.
Adrian forwarded the email to a family-law attorney recommended by Dr. Shah. Then he called the bank that serviced the old house loan. The loan was closed. No modifications. Eleanor had lied or Camille had misunderstood.
The education trust was different. Eleanor chaired the committee that approved distributions beyond tuition. Therapy, extracurricular programs, specialized summer care—expenses the trust had covered since Lydia’s death—could be delayed if the committee demanded additional documentation.
Adrian could pay for Mila’s therapy himself. It would hurt, especially if Elm Street disappeared, but he could do it.
He printed the email and placed it facedown on his desk.
At two, Camille called.
He answered because ignoring her had not improved anything.
“Mother released the statement,” she said.
“What statement?”
Camille read it.
“Last evening, a private family moment at our home became the subject of an incomplete and unauthorized recording. Our beloved granddaughter became briefly overwhelmed during a planned celebration of her mother’s legacy. No child was harmed or compelled to participate in any activity. We regret that a family disagreement disrupted our guests and ask for privacy—”
“Stop.”
“She says compelled means physically forced.”
“She took Mila’s watch.”
“I know.”
“She used Lydia’s memory to pressure her.”
“I know.”
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
The word came without defense.
“What are you going to do?” Adrian asked.
“I told the foundation board the statement was inaccurate.”
“And?”
“They asked me not to comment publicly until counsel reviews the situation.”
“Convenient.”
“I also told Nathan I’m postponing the wedding.”
Adrian had not expected that.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know whether I’m marrying him because I love him or because he knows how to survive my family.”
“That sounds like a problem unrelated to Mila.”
“It is related to me standing in the doorway.”
Adrian looked at the printed attorney letter.
“Do not turn hurting yourself into an apology.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what do you want?”
Camille’s voice broke slightly, then steadied.
“I want to give you Lydia’s email.”
“What email?”
“The one she sent me three weeks before the accident.”
Adrian’s hand stopped.
“About what?”
“Mother. Boundaries. You.”
“Why have you never mentioned it?”
“Because Lydia asked me not to send it to anyone unless Mother tried to use Mila to repair the family.”
The sentence sounded too exact, too useful. Adrian distrusted it immediately.
“Read me the request.”
“I can forward the entire chain.”
“No. Read the part where she says that.”
Paper moved on Camille’s end. She had printed it.
“She wrote, ‘If Mom ever makes Mila responsible for keeping us in the same room, remind me I predicted it, then stop me from pretending it’s harmless.’”
“That isn’t what you said.”
“No.”
“She didn’t tell you to send it to me.”
“No.”
“What else does it say?”
“A lot I’m ashamed of.”
“That is not my reason to read my wife’s private email.”
“She talks about leaving the foundation board. About the portrait. About being made to perform after Granddad died. About you refusing the Christmas campaign.”
Adrian remembered that campaign. Eleanor wanted a photograph of the entire family in front of the mansion with the caption LEGACY IS LOVE. Lydia had laughed when Adrian called it a hostage note in a tasteful font.
They had fought about it later because Lydia agreed to the photograph.
“You kept this for eighteen months,” he said.
“I kept it for Lydia.”
“She’s dead.”
Camille inhaled sharply.
Adrian regretted the cruelty before the words finished leaving him, but he did not retract them. Part of him had wanted to hurt someone who had possessed a living piece of Lydia while he had survived on old voicemail greetings and grocery lists.
“I know,” Camille said.
The absence of defense made him feel worse.
“Forward only the message Lydia wrote,” he said. “No commentary.”
“I will.”
“And Camille?”
“Yes?”
“Do not release it.”
“I won’t.”
The email arrived three minutes later.
Adrian did not open it until Mila was asleep.
He sat at the kitchen table with the Vermont mug, this time filled with coffee he had reheated twice. Rain ticked against the window. The upstairs hall light remained on.
The email began with a complaint about Eleanor changing the caterer for a board lunch. Lydia wrote that the replacement served tiny food arranged on large plates, “which is how Mother prefers both meals and emotions.”
Adrian laughed before he could stop himself.
The sound startled him.
May you like
He read on.
Lydia had been angry with Camille for agreeing to chair a campaign using family photographs. She described the childhood portrait of herself with the rabbit and said Eleanor remembered the sitting as peaceful, though Lydia remembered crying because she wanted to attend a classmate’s birthday party.
