Chương 2
Margaret stroked Noah’s hair once, almost awkwardly. “I’m occupied.”
The museum’s director arrived with two board members and the expression of a man whose worst fear had always been an incident involving donors. Arthur Bell was short, immaculate, and visibly horrified by anything that could not be handled through seating arrangements.
“Elena,” he said, “is Noah injured?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“We have a private office upstairs. We can call the museum physician.”
“No,” she said. “We’re going to the hospital.”
Damian laughed once under his breath. “For a fall?”
Noah flinched at the sound.
Elena turned so quickly that Arthur stepped between them.
“That is enough,” he said, though he addressed the sentence to the space rather than to Damian.
Margaret rose with Noah’s weight braced against her. “Get his cane.”
The young assistant moved first. She crossed the marble, lifted the cane with both hands, and returned it to Noah. One of the rubber tips had split. Noah ran his thumb over the damaged edge.
“It was new,” he said quietly.
Margaret looked at Damian.
He had begun wrapping his bleeding hand in a white cloth napkin. “This is absurd.”
The gray-haired security officer asked the assistant for her name.
“Maya Chen,” she said.
Her voice barely carried.
“Did you see what happened?”
Maya glanced at Damian. Then at Arthur. Then toward a woman near the cream columns wearing a black headset and a badge that marked her as the event manager. The woman gave the smallest shake of her head.
Maya swallowed.
“I saw the boy fall.”
“That wasn’t the question,” Margaret said.
Arthur closed his eyes for half a second.
Maya tightened her fingers around the edge of her tray. “I saw Mr. Cross move his foot.”
“Accidentally,” Damian said.
Maya looked down.
Elena understood. The girl was young, probably paid by an outside events company, perhaps working on an hourly contract. Men like Damian did not need to threaten people directly. They built rooms in which everyone already knew the cost of displeasing them.
The security officer asked for Elena’s name and contact information. Another officer requested that guests stop recording. No one obeyed completely. A phone remained raised behind a champagne table, its camera aimed through a gap between two floral arrangements.
Noah tugged Elena’s hand.
“Mom.”
She knelt again.
“Can we go?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Margaret offered to drive them. Elena refused without looking at her. The refusal came too quickly and too sharply. Margaret accepted it with a small nod.
An ambulance would draw more attention and take longer to clear museum security, so Arthur arranged for a car. Elena hated needing anything from him, but Noah had begun guarding his left side, and the nearest emergency department was twelve minutes away.
As she helped him toward the museum entrance, the crowd divided around them. Noah used the damaged cane carefully. The rubber tip clicked against the marble instead of gripping it.
Behind them, Damian said, “Mother, we need to talk.”
Margaret replied, “No. You need to remain exactly where you are.”
Outside, cool air struck Elena’s damp shoulders. The museum steps were crowded with arriving guests who had not yet heard what had happened. A valet stared at the split cane tip and hurried to open the rear door of the sedan.
Elena sat beside Noah. He rested his head against her upper arm and closed his eyes.
Only when the museum disappeared behind them did she notice that her hands were shaking.
Noah opened one eye.
“You pushed him pretty hard.”
“I did.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“I don’t know.”
He considered that. “He deserved it.”
“That doesn’t always keep people out of trouble.”
“Does it sometimes?”
She looked through the window at traffic sliding past the park, red brake lights smeared by a thin mist.
“Sometimes,” she said.
At the hospital, the triage nurse cut away the knee of Noah’s trousers with trauma shears while Elena held his jacket and tried not to think about the suit’s cost. It had taken three fittings to accommodate the brace without making one trouser leg twist. Noah had complained through all three appointments, less about the pins and measuring tape than about being called handsome by strangers.
The X-rays showed no fracture. The orthopedist found bruising around the kneecap and a strained wrist from the fall. Noah would need to rest the leg, ice the swelling, and return if the pain worsened. The brace itself was intact.
“Can I go to school Monday?” Noah asked.
The doctor looked at the clock. It was after ten on Saturday night.
“Let’s survive Sunday first.”
Noah smiled despite himself.
Elena sat in a molded plastic chair while a nurse wrapped his wrist. Her gown looked absurd under the fluorescent lights. A dark champagne stain marked the hem. She had lost one earring somewhere between the museum and radiology.
Her phone vibrated continuously inside her evening bag.
She ignored it until Noah was settled with a paper cup of apple juice and two packets of crackers. Then she stepped into the hallway.
Thirty-seven text messages.
Six missed calls.
A voicemail from Arthur Bell.
Two calls from an unknown number.
Three from her older sister, Claire.
One from Margaret.
The first video had already been posted.
The clip began after Noah hit the floor. It showed Elena kneeling, Margaret accusing Damian, Elena rising, and Damian reaching toward her. It captured the shove clearly. It did not capture the kick.
The caption read: WOMAN ATTACKS BILLIONAIRE DONOR AT MUSEUM GALA.
Elena watched it twice. The second time, she noticed how controlled Damian appeared. He looked surprised, almost concerned. She looked wild even though she remembered feeling cold.
Comments multiplied beneath the video.
Who brings a kid to an adult gala?
She’s obviously after money.
The old lady says he kicked the cane.
Doesn’t matter, you can’t assault people.
That kid has a leg brace. What kind of monster does that?
May you like
Elena locked the phone.
When she returned, Noah was folding his cracker wrapper into smaller and smaller rectangles.
