Chương 4
“That last one isn’t on the form.”
“It should be.”
Ivy overheard enough to understand that she and Skye were leaving without him. Her restraint vanished. She screamed once—not theatrically, not loudly enough to fill the ward, but with the raw panic of a child who had already awakened beside one motionless parent and now believed the other was abandoning her.
Dominic knelt in front of her.
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You are.”
“I’m going to a different building tonight. Tomorrow I’ll see you again.”
“Mommy said tomorrow.”
He could not answer that.
Ivy struck his chest with both hands. The blows were small and desperate. He let her hit him until she tired, then held her wrists gently.
“You don’t have to trust tomorrow,” he said. “Trust that I will keep coming back until you decide what to call that.”
She stared at him through wet lashes.
Behind her, Skye had gone completely silent.
Dominic took off the pendant and placed it in Ivy’s palm. He had threaded the broken clasp onto a black cord from one of the hospital badges.
“You keep this.”
“You said you would keep it safe.”
“I think you’re better at that.”
Her fingers closed.
The foster mother’s name was Marisol Kane. She arrived in jeans and a raincoat, with gray in her braid and cracker crumbs on one shoulder. She did not attempt to hug the children. She showed them photographs of the bedroom where they would sleep and let them choose which stuffed animals to bring from her car.
Ivy selected a lion with one missing eye. Skye chose nothing.
Dominic walked them to the vehicle. When he opened the door, Ivy turned.
“You really come tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“What time?”
He looked at Nadia.
“Ten,” she said.
Dominic nodded. “Ten.”
“If you’re late, you’re lying.”
“I’ll be early.”
He arrived at nine twenty-three.
The next four days dismantled every illusion Dominic had about the usefulness of power. Men returned his calls before the first ring ended. Bank presidents moved meetings for him. City inspectors ignored violations after a single conversation with the right intermediary. None of that made a county laboratory process DNA faster without appearing corrupt. None persuaded a frightened child to sleep. None gave him access to Claire’s medical records without a court order.
He submitted to the drug test. He provided the names of his housekeeper, driver, security chief, and every person who possessed a key to his home. When Nadia objected to the security system’s interior cameras, he had them removed from the guest wing. He moved locked liquor cabinets. He surrendered three antique firearms to his attorney for off-site storage, though they had never been loaded.
He did each task without complaint and hated every minute of being assessed.
His home failed the first inspection.
Not because it was unsafe in the obvious ways. The stair rails were solid, the windows locked, the kitchen spotless. It failed because there was no evidence that children could live there. The rooms were expensive and empty. The sharp-edged furniture had been selected by a designer who apparently disliked knees. The refrigerator contained sparkling water, meat, mustard, six lemons, and a jar of olives.
Nadia opened a cabinet and found twelve identical black coffee mugs.
“Do you own anything with a color?” she asked.
Dominic looked around the kitchen.
“No.”
She wrote on her clipboard.
“What does that mean?”
“It means children need to feel they are expected, not inserted.”
He almost told her that he had learned of their existence four days earlier. Instead, he asked, “What would expected look like?”
She glanced at him. “Ask them.”
During his second supervised visit, Dominic brought no gifts. His attorney had warned him against appearing to purchase affection. Marisol served grilled cheese sandwiches cut diagonally. Ivy removed the crusts and stacked them into a square. Skye peeled the cheese from the bread and ate each part separately.
Dominic watched them with the intensity he usually reserved for negotiations.
“What?” Ivy demanded.
“I’m learning.”
“Learning what?”
“What you do.”
“I eat.”
“I see that.”
She frowned. “You’re bad at talking to kids.”
“I haven’t had much practice.”
“Mommy talked normal.”
“How is normal?”
Ivy considered. “Not like questions.”
Dominic sat back.
Marisol hid a smile in her coffee.
Skye pushed half her sandwich toward him. “You can have this.”
He ate it. The bread was burned on one side.
Later, Ivy showed him a picture she had drawn. It contained three figures: two small yellow shapes and one large black shape with lines covering its arms. A fourth figure stood far away in gray pencil.
“Who is that?” Dominic asked.
Ivy’s crayon stopped.
Skye whispered, “Mommy.”
Ivy turned the paper facedown.
The preliminary DNA result arrived the following afternoon. The probability of paternity was greater than 99.99 percent.
Dominic read the email in his car outside a grocery store. He had gone there because Nadia told him to purchase food the twins recognized, and Marisol had provided a list: bananas, plain yogurt, oat cereal, chicken noodles, apple slices, cheddar crackers, frozen peas.
He sat behind the steering wheel for eleven minutes without moving.
His driver, Tomas, waited in the front passenger seat and pretended to check messages.
Dominic finally handed him the phone.
Tomas read the result. His face softened. “Congratulations.”
The word was unbearable.
Dominic looked through the windshield at a woman arguing with a child near a row of shopping carts. The boy wanted to ride in the larger basket. The mother refused. Their conflict possessed the luxury of ordinary time.
“Don’t say that again,” Dominic said.
Tomas returned the phone. “Understood.”
“They’re mine.”
“Yes.”
“Three years.”
Tomas looked out his window.
Dominic pressed his thumb against the dark ink covering his opposite hand. “Claire gave birth to my children, raised them alone, got sick, and died on a floor while I attended charity dinners and threatened men over percentages.”
May you like
Tomas said nothing.
“What kind of father doesn’t know his daughters exist?”
