Part 16
Daniel stood.
“Sit down,” Nia said.
He stared at her.
“You came here because Detective Ortiz told you I was useful. Let me be useful.”
After a moment, he sat.
Nia opened the folder again. “Who else has seen this?”
“Amelia’s director, maybe. The museum’s general counsel. She said the board’s audit committee was supposed to get it yesterday.”
“Did they?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does the report exist on the museum’s system?”
“She told me not to trust the computer.”
Nia looked up. “That is not an encouraging answer.”
By afternoon, the museum had issued a statement.
During last night’s annual gala, a staff member experienced a medical emergency and suffered a fall on the central staircase. We are relieved to learn that she is receiving excellent care. The museum is cooperating fully with authorities and conducting an internal review. Out of respect for everyone involved, we will not speculate on incomplete accounts circulating online.
The words medical emergency appeared before fall.
There was no mention of Vanessa.
There was no mention of the report.
A fifteen-second video had already been posted by a guest. It began after Amelia started falling. Vanessa was visible above, both hands raised, her face pale. Daniel entered the frame at the end.
The caption read: PREGNANT CURATOR FALLS AFTER FIGHT WITH BILLIONAIRE DONOR’S DAUGHTER.
Vanessa was not a billionaire’s daughter. Victor and Vanessa’s father had died with less wealth than people imagined and more debt than the family admitted. The foundation controlled valuable assets, but control and ownership were not the same. None of that mattered online.
By dinner, strangers had decided Vanessa had shoved Amelia.
Others decided Amelia had staged the fall to destroy the Hales.
A third group enlarged the video frame by frame and debated whether Amelia’s left foot had touched the edge of her dress.
Daniel read too many comments.
Amelia watched him scroll.
“Stop.”
“I’m looking for witnesses.”
“You’re looking for people who agree with you.”
“There are three angles.”
“None of them show what happened before I fell.”
“One woman says Vanessa had both hands on you.”
“I told the police that.”
“She says Vanessa thrust forward.”
“From the bottom of the stairs?”
“She was near a column.”
Amelia held out her hand. “Give me the phone.”
He locked the screen instead.
“Daniel.”
“I’m not a child.”
“No. You’re a man reading strangers call your wife a liar.”
He put the phone on the windowsill.
A few minutes passed.
“I opened the folder,” he said.
Amelia looked at him.
“At the lawyer’s office. Not before.”
“You read it?”
“Some.”
“You had no right.”
His eyebrows lifted. “No right?”
“It’s confidential museum material.”
“You sent me to get it.”
“To secure it.”
“Your name is on every page. You were nearly killed over it.”
“I was not nearly killed.”
“You fell down a marble staircase while eight months pregnant.”
“And I am telling you not to make the story bigger because you need it to match how frightened you were.”
He stepped away from the bed.
The fetal monitor continued its patient electronic rhythm.
Amelia rubbed her thumb against the edge of the blanket. “I’m sorry.”
Daniel looked at her but did not return.
She said, “I should have told you more.”
“Yes.”
“But you still shouldn’t have read it without asking.”
His mouth tightened. “You don’t get to apologize and repeat the accusation in the same breath.”
“That’s usually how apologies work when two things are true.”
He almost smiled. It vanished before it fully formed.
The next morning, Amelia was discharged with instructions to rest and return immediately if she experienced bleeding, contractions, dizziness, reduced fetal movement, or worsening pain. Daniel drove as though every pothole had been placed to harm them personally.
At home, the nursery door stood open. They had painted the walls pale green because they did not know the baby’s sex. A half-assembled crib occupied the center of the room, surrounded by screws, packaging, and an instruction booklet Daniel had accused of being translated from another language by a person who disliked furniture.
Amelia stopped in the doorway.
“We know now,” she said.
Daniel set down her bag. “We do.”
“A girl.”
“I heard.”
They stood there without moving.
On the changing table sat three pairs of socks Amelia’s sister had mailed from Oregon. One pair had yellow ducks. One had strawberries. One said TAX DEDUCTION.
Daniel picked up the last pair.
“Your sister thinks she’s funnier than she is.”
“She thinks everyone is less funny than she is.”
“That too.”
It was the first ordinary exchange they had managed since the fall.
Amelia sat in the nursery chair. Her hip hurt. Her shoulder ached beneath the bruise. She watched Daniel sort crib pieces into piles he had already sorted twice.
“Did Nia say what we should do?”
“She said not to contact the museum until she reviews everything.”
“She represents us?”
“She can. I said we’d decide together.”
Amelia nodded.
He held up two nearly identical screws. “These are apparently different.”
“They are different.”
“How?”
“One is longer.”
“They’re the same length.”
She leaned forward, then winced.
Daniel crossed the room immediately. “Don’t.”
“I was going to show you.”
“You were told to rest.”
“I was told not to climb stairs. No one said I couldn’t identify hardware.”
He crouched in front of her. The irritation left his face.
“Are you in pain?”
“A little.”
“Contraction?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her belly as if he expected the baby to answer independently.
Amelia touched his cheek. “I’m here.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then he said, “I don’t know what I would have done if—”
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
His voice broke on the last word. He lowered his head until his forehead rested against her knee.
Amelia placed one hand on his hair.
“I was scared before I fell,” she said.
“Of Vanessa?”
May you like
“Of the report.”
He looked up.
