Chương 4
Griffin’s voice dropped. “Get their photographs down.”
“We can request removal. We can’t erase the internet.”
“Then bury the results.”
“That may increase attention.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. Anything aggressive will look like confirmation.”
Griffin looked through the window in Sloan’s door. She was awake, helping Iris open a carton of milk. Hazel had arranged three crackers on the tray and was trying to convince her mother that one counted as dinner.
“They haven’t even had a test,” he said.
Daniel’s silence was answer enough. Truth was no longer the only thing with consequences.
Sloan saw the article on a nurse’s phone.
She did not shout. She handed the phone back, thanked the nurse for showing her, and asked Griffin to leave the room while she spoke to her daughters.
He waited outside for twenty-three minutes.
When Sloan opened the door, she had changed into the black dress and white blouse Iris had brought from home. She looked unsteady but upright.
“What did you tell them?” Griffin asked.
“That some people are curious because you’re famous.”
“I’m not famous.”
“You arrived at my home in a helicopter.”
“That was transportation.”
“That was an airborne press release.”
He accepted the hit.
“The school called,” she continued. “Parents have been sending messages. One mother asked whether Hazel and Iris will require security at the fall picnic.”
“I’ll provide it.”
“That was not an invitation.”
“They’ve been identified publicly.”
“Because of you.”
“Because someone violated your privacy.”
“No one was waiting outside cardiology before you slept in the hall.”
His face closed.
Sloan adjusted the cuff of her blouse. Her hand trembled once. She hid it beneath her opposite arm.
“I’m taking them home.”
“You need rest.”
“My doctor cleared me.”
“With conditions.”
“You read my discharge instructions?”
“I asked the doctor what support you would need.”
“Without my permission.”
“I asked a general question.”
“You don’t know how to stand near a boundary without buying the land beneath it.”
Hazel and Iris came out carrying their backpacks. Hazel wore Griffin’s coat over her ivory dress, the sleeves hanging past her hands.
Sloan looked at it.
“It was cold,” Hazel said.
“I brought your sweaters.”
“They were itchy.”
Iris had refused everything Griffin offered, including food, a phone charger, and the use of his car. She held Sloan’s overnight bag with both hands.
Daniel waited near the elevator.
Sloan looked from him to the black vehicle visible through the hospital entrance. “No.”
“There are photographers outside,” Griffin said.
“I called a cab.”
“The driver’s license plate will be photographed. Your home address will be confirmed.”
“It’s already in the article.”
“Not the penthouse access route.”
“It’s a rental, not a missile silo.”
“Please.”
The word surprised all of them.
Sloan glanced at the girls. Hazel was almost asleep standing up. Iris’s shoulders were rigid with the effort of being older than eight.
“Fine,” Sloan said. “One ride.”
Griffin rode in front with Daniel. The twins and Sloan sat in the back. No one spoke until Hazel asked whether billionaires had to use booster seats.
“Yes,” Sloan said.
“No,” Griffin said at the same time.
Daniel stared straight ahead.
At the penthouse, two security contractors stood near the lobby desk.
Sloan stopped.
“I didn’t authorize this.”
Griffin turned to Daniel. “Neither did I.”
“Building management requested assistance,” Daniel said. “Someone attempted to enter through the garage claiming to deliver flowers.”
“Remove them,” Sloan said.
Daniel looked at Griffin.
“You heard her,” Griffin replied.
The contractors left.
Upstairs, the home office remained almost exactly as the twins had abandoned it. The spilled coffee had dried in a dark fan across the marble. Blueprints lay under a towel a paramedic had thrown down to prevent slipping. The brass lamp still burned.
Sloan stood in the doorway.
For the first time since waking, fear broke through her composure.
Not fear of Griffin. Fear of the floor.
Hazel noticed and slid her hand into Sloan’s.
“We can sleep in our room,” she said.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to clean it.”
“I know.”
Iris placed the overnight bag down. “I can clean it.”
“No.”
The sharpness made Iris blink.
Sloan crouched, then caught the desk when dizziness tilted the room.
Griffin moved forward.
She raised one hand.
He stopped before touching her.
That small obedience seemed to unsettle her more than if he had ignored her.
“I’ll call our neighbor,” Sloan said.
“It’s after midnight,” Hazel murmured.
“Mrs. Chen stays up watching Korean dramas.”
“She says they’re better than American men,” Iris added.
Griffin glanced at Sloan.
“She has a broad sample size,” Sloan said.
The joke escaped before she could stop it. Hazel laughed first. Then Iris made a sound that was half laugh, half sob. Sloan closed her eyes.
Ordinary life returned for three seconds and left them all more exhausted.
Mrs. Chen arrived wearing silk pajamas beneath a winter coat. She was sixty-two, owned two restaurants, and assessed Griffin in one sweep from wet shoes to expensive watch.
“So,” she said. “The weather problem has a face.”
Griffin offered his hand. “Griffin Drake.”
“I know who you are. Everybody knows who you are. That is part of the problem.”
She ignored the hand and hugged Sloan carefully.
“You’re staying with us tonight,” she told the twins.
Hazel looked at Griffin. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
He did not answer immediately.
Sloan watched him.
“Yes,” he said. “Unless your mother asks me not to be.”
“That means maybe,” Iris said.
“Yes.”
Mrs. Chen gathered the girls. Hazel returned Griffin’s coat but left the cream ribbon around his wrist.
“You can keep that until the test,” she said.
Sloan’s mouth tightened.
After the elevator doors closed, Griffin and Sloan stood alone among the blueprints.
He removed the ribbon and set it beside his watch on the drafting table.
“Did you know?” he asked.
“Know what?”
“That they would look like me.”
“Babies look like angry potatoes.”
May you like
“At eight.”
She picked up a blueprint and saw the coffee stain. “Sometimes.”
