Chương 12
Later Elena found him standing over the instruction manual.
“You run hotels.”
“This machine is German.”
“So are some of your hotels.”
“Buildings are easier.”
Her mother watched from the table and said nothing.
That evening, after Adrian went to another room, she asked Elena, “Do you love him?”
Elena hated the question.
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t hesitation.”
“No.”
“Do you trust him?”
There it was.
Elena folded one of the ridiculous nonslip socks.
“Not the same way.”
“Is that bad?”
“I don’t know.”
Her mother shrugged.
“I stopped trusting your father to remember anything I say while basketball is on in 1996. We’re still married.”
“This is a little different.”
“I know. I’m trying to make you smile.”
“It worked a little.”
Her mother picked up another sock.
“Maybe trust isn’t one thing.”
Elena looked at her.
“Don’t get wise on me.”
“I’m sixty. It happens by accident.”
The major break in Sophia’s case came six weeks after the safe-room night.
It was not another secret recording.
It was a bank record.
The foundation’s independent review found a payment routed through a consulting company controlled by one of Damian’s former friends. The amount matched money Sophia had flagged in an internal spreadsheet recovered from her cloud account.
The friend, facing questions of his own, admitted Damian had used the company to disguise personal expenses and promised repayment before Sophia discovered it.
More importantly, he remembered a call from Damian after midnight the night Sophia fell.
Damian had said, “She was going to ruin me.”
The friend claimed he had assumed Damian meant professionally.
Investigators now had motive, video of the physical confrontation, evidence of concealment afterward, and corroboration that Damian understood Sophia posed an immediate threat to his financial position.
It still did not turn the case into a television show.
There was no dramatic raid.
Damian surrendered through his attorney.
Victoria arrived at the courthouse in dark glasses and a navy coat.
Adrian did not go.
Neither did Elena.
They watched nothing live.
At Adrian’s request, Daniel removed the news channels from the main screens for the day.
“You know you can just not turn them on,” Elena said.
“I know myself.”
“That’s surprisingly healthy.”
“I’m growing.”
“You hit a punching bag without gloves last month.”
“Growth isn’t linear.”
She stared at him.
“What?”
“That sounded like therapy.”
“I have a therapist now.”
Elena blinked.
“You what?”
“Tuesday mornings.”
“You hate therapy.”
“I still do.”
She started laughing.
Adrian looked offended.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s extremely funny.”
“He asks how I feel and then waits.”
“That’s generally how it works.”
“The waiting is aggressive.”
Elena laughed harder.
He eventually laughed too.
Then his phone rang.
His expression changed when he saw the number.
Victoria.
He let it ring twice.
Elena did not tell him whether to answer.
On the third ring, he did.
“Hello.”
His mother spoke long enough that Elena could hear only the rhythm, not the words.
Adrian walked toward the window.
“No.”
More words.
“No, I’m not coming.”
He listened.
“Because Damian has counsel.”
Another pause.
“I know you’re alone.”
Elena looked down.
Adrian’s face tightened.
Then softened.
“No. That isn’t the same as me coming.”
Victoria spoke again.
Adrian closed his eyes.
“I love you too.”
He ended the call.
For a while he stood facing the city.
Elena approached but stopped several feet away.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to say something useful?”
“No.”
“Good, because I don’t have anything.”
He nodded.
After a moment, he said, “She asked me to come to the townhouse.”
“Are you going?”
“No.”
“Do you want to?”
“Yes.”
Elena understood.
That was probably the worst part.
Loving someone did not automatically provide instructions.
Two months later, Victoria agreed to give a formal statement about the night Sophia died.
Her attorneys had advised silence.
She ignored them.
Nobody knew exactly why.
Adrian suspected pressure from the foundation investigation.
Elena suspected loneliness.
Peter thought she had finally understood that Damian’s defense strategy would eventually put blame on her.
All three explanations were probably partly true.
Victoria admitted ordering Peter to delete the terrace footage.
She admitted delaying the emergency call while contacting the family physician and speaking to Damian.
She admitted taking Sophia’s phone and later storing it with personal belongings rather than giving it to police.
She denied believing Sophia would die.
She denied intending to obstruct a homicide investigation because, she said, she did not believe a homicide had occurred.
The legal meaning of those admissions became something for lawyers and prosecutors to argue over.
The emotional meaning was simpler.
Adrian’s mother had chosen control while Sophia lay injured.
No wording changed that.
Adrian met Victoria once after her statement.
Elena did not go.
When he returned to the penthouse, he took off his coat, hung it up, removed it, hung it again because one sleeve had folded beneath itself, then stood staring at the closet.
“How was she?” Elena asked.
“Smaller.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
He came into the living room.
“She asked if I could ever forgive her.”
“What did you say?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“That’s honest.”
“She hated it.”
“Of course.”
“She said I’m punishing her.”
“Are you?”
Adrian sat.
“Yes.”
Elena had expected denial.
He rubbed his palms against his trousers.
“Some of not seeing her is because I need space. Some of it is because I know it hurts her.”
“Do you want to change that?”
“I don’t know.”
Elena nodded.
Adrian looked at her.
“You never tell me I’m a good person.”
“Would that help?”
“No.”
“Then why would I?”
He smiled faintly.
“Therapist says I look for moral verdicts because they’re easier than uncertainty.”
“Your therapist sounds expensive.”
“Less than the lawyer.”
The baby arrived three weeks early.
Nothing about the timing was cinematic.
Elena woke at 2:14 a.m. annoyed because she thought she had wet the bed.
Then she realized what had happened.
She woke Adrian.
He sat straight up.
May you like
“What?”
“My water broke.”
