Chương 3
She had learned there were other explanations for silence.
Derek stepped toward his father.
“You want to humiliate me over a domestic argument? Fine. You’ve made your point.”
“No,” Edward said. “I haven’t.”
Derek stared at him.
Edward pointed toward the champagne bucket.
“You will not touch Rachel’s phone. You will not touch her watch. You will not touch her, and you will not take the baby.”
Margaret said, “No one is taking anyone.”
Rachel met her eyes.
Margaret looked away first.
That had never happened before.
The guests began leaving in small, awkward groups.
There was no graceful method for exiting someone else’s family collapse. Coats arrived. People murmured thanks to staff. A donor who had spent twenty minutes earlier describing a vineyard asked the same valet twice for his ticket.
A woman Rachel knew from two charity lunches approached, stopped six feet away, and said, “Rachel, do you need anything?”
Rachel had no idea what the woman’s first name was.
“No. Thank you.”
The woman nodded.
Then, after a hesitation, she said, “I saw him take the phone.”
Derek heard.
“So did eighty people.”
The woman flushed.
Derek smiled without humor.
“Congratulations. We have witnesses to a phone getting wet.”
Rachel felt the old reflex rise: Maybe he’s right.
It arrived so automatically she almost admired its efficiency.
A phone in champagne.
A scratch that could have come from anything.
A frightened wife.
A rich family.
A crying baby.
How much of a marriage could fit into facts that looked small one at a time?
Edward turned to Rachel.
“What do you want now?”
Again, not I’ll handle it.
The question irritated her.
She was exhausted enough to resent being given agency.
“I want my phone.”
Daniel said, “I can retrieve it.”
Rachel nodded.
He used a folded towel, lifted the phone from the bucket, and set it on another cloth. Liquid ran from the case. The screen stayed black.
Derek watched with a faint expression of satisfaction.
Rachel saw it.
“So that’s funny?” she asked.
His face changed.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“No. You didn’t.”
Noah’s crying had eased into hiccups. Rachel kissed his hair.
Margaret spoke more carefully now.
“Rachel, whatever is happening between you and Derek, Noah needs stability.”
There were words Rachel had come to hate during pregnancy.
Stability was one.
Family was another.
Concern was becoming a third.
Margaret used concern the way some people used perfume. Enough of it, and nobody noticed what the room actually smelled like.
“He has stability,” Rachel said.
“With you walking out of his home in the middle of a gala?”
Rachel looked toward Edward.
Then back at Margaret.
“Apparently it isn’t Derek’s home.”
Margaret flinched.
Rachel regretted the line immediately.
Not because it was false.
Because it sounded like Derek.
Sharpness for an audience.
She adjusted Noah’s blanket.
“I’m taking him upstairs.”
Derek said, “You’re not taking my son anywhere.”
Daniel moved between them before Edward could.
No threat. No grabbing.
Just a body occupying space.
Derek stopped.
Rachel could hear his breathing.
“Your son?” she said.
“Don’t.”
“You keep saying things like people belong to you.”
“Rachel, not now.”
“When?”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
For one second she saw the man who had cried at Noah’s birth.
That was the cruelest part.
Derek had cried.
He had held their son with shaking hands and whispered, “Hey, buddy,” six times because he could not think of anything else to say.
Rachel had loved him in that hospital room with a physical force that frightened her.
That man had existed.
So did this one.
People kept telling stories as if love disappeared when harm began.
Rachel wished it did.
It would have made leaving easier.
Edward said, “The upstairs east guest suite is available.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
“I’m not staying here.”
A small muscle moved in Derek’s cheek.
“Good.”
Rachel faced him.
“I’m leaving tonight.”
His expression went still.
“For where?”
She did not answer.
“Rachel. Where?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“You have my child.”
“Our child.”
“And you think you can disappear with him?”
Her heartbeat climbed.
There it was.
The thing beneath everything.
Not the house.
Not the phone.
Noah.
Derek saw the fear hit her and softened his voice.
“You can’t just take a baby and vanish. You know that.”
“I’m not vanishing.”
“Then tell me where you’re going.”
“No.”
Margaret said, “This is exactly what I mean. You are not behaving rationally.”
Edward’s gaze moved toward her.
Margaret ignored him.
“You are exhausted. You’ve barely slept in months. You’re nursing. You’re overwhelmed. Nobody blames you for that.”
Rachel’s fingers tightened beneath Noah.
A memory surfaced without permission.
Margaret in the nursery three weeks earlier, rearranging bottles.
You should consider stopping. You seem depleted.
Derek that night:
Mom thinks you’re not yourself.
Two days later:
Maybe you should talk to someone.
Then:
If a doctor thought you were unstable, would you even know?
At the time, Rachel had heard concern.
Now she heard construction.
Brick by brick.
A version of her they could use.
Rachel looked at Edward.
“I need copies of tonight’s recording.”
“You’ll have them.”
“No. Not from you.”
Edward seemed surprised.
Rachel turned to Daniel.
“Can the system send the file to an account that isn’t controlled by the Hayes family?”
“Yes.”
Derek laughed once.
“Jesus Christ.”
Rachel ignored him.
“I’ll give you an address.”
Daniel nodded.
Edward did too.
Rachel caught that.
No offense.
No insistence.
It made her trust him slightly more, which made her suspicious of herself.
Trust had become exhausting.
She carried Noah from the ballroom without looking back.
The heavy skirt of her gown brushed her ankles as she climbed the east staircase. Her knees felt unreliable. Halfway up, one of her shoes slipped at the heel.
May you like
She stopped.
For several seconds she stood on a marble stair in a six-thousand-dollar gown holding a baby while two security officers waited below pretending not to notice she could not keep her shoe on.
