Chương 9
The children were at Patricia’s house.
Allowing that visit had required two sleepless nights, a security plan, and a promise that Marcus would not be present. Olivia had asked every hour. Sophia wanted to see the staircase without guests. Noah said he would go if Kesha remained nearby. Ethan refused until Patricia called and admitted she owned an elderly golden retriever named Walter.
Kesha had driven them herself.
Patricia greeted them in trousers and a blue sweater, without pearls, wine, or staff waiting in formation. Walter limped toward Ethan and leaned against his legs as though bribed.
The mansion looked smaller in daylight. The fallen ring box was gone. So was the engagement photographer. A faint stain remained on the marble where Patricia’s wine had spilled.
Kesha stayed for twenty minutes, then drove to a coffee shop less than a mile away. She did not know whether leaving them had been wise. She knew only that remaining in the room would have turned Patricia’s every sentence into a test.
Now, with the paternity report open on her phone, Kesha called Marcus.
He answered immediately.
“You received it,” he said.
“Yes.”
Silence.
A car horn sounded faintly on his end.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Outside my office.”
“You are driving?”
“I’m parked.”
“Do not read legal documents while moving.”
“I already read it.”
Kesha waited.
Marcus breathed through his nose.
“I am their father.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it would feel different.”
“What did you think it would feel like?”
“I don’t know.”
She almost pointed out the irony, then stopped.
“Have you told Claire?”
“She won’t take my calls.”
“Have you told your mother?”
“No.”
“The children are with her.”
He swore.
“She agreed you would not come.”
“I’m not coming.”
“Good.”
Another silence.
Marcus said, “I want to speak to them tonight.”
“No.”
“Kesha.”
“They are processing your mother. They do not need a paternity report handed to them like a weather update.”
“They deserve to know.”
“They already know. This confirms it.”
“I deserve to tell them.”
“No. You want the moment because you think saying the words will make you part of their reaction.”
His voice sharpened. “You don’t get to control every part of this.”
“I controlled every part when you controlled none.”
“That cannot be the arrangement forever.”
“No. But it is the arrangement today.”
Marcus exhaled.
“My lawyer will contact yours.”
“Your lawyer called them alleged children in front of them.”
“I fired him.”
Kesha sat straighter.
“When?”
“An hour after the clinic.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
She did, but hearing him say it mattered.
“He treated them as a public-relations problem,” Marcus said.
“So have you.”
“Yes.”
The answer came without defense.
Kesha looked again at the report.
“Did you know?” she asked.
“About the result?”
“About the births.”
Marcus did not speak.
“Patricia brought me the letters from your father’s desk. You signed for one.”
“I signed for hundreds of envelopes.”
“It was addressed to you by name.”
“I gave it to my father.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I knew it was from you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is.”
Kesha stood and walked to the window. Below, people crossed the snowy street carrying shopping bags. A man in a green hat struggled to open an umbrella against the wind, though snow was not rain and the umbrella accomplished very little.
“What did you think was inside?” she asked.
“Another demand.”
“I had never demanded money.”
“You had filed for support.”
“For your children.”
“I did not know they were mine.”
“You knew there was an excellent chance.”
“My father said responding would create legal exposure.”
Kesha pressed her forehead against the cold glass.
“Were there birth announcements?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hospital photographs?”
“I don’t know.”
“Four names?”
“I did not open it.”
She closed her eyes.
The truth was worse than a hidden conspiracy. Marcus had not needed to read the letter. He had made ignorance an action.
“I need to go,” she said.
“Kesha.”
“What?”
“I was at the hospital.”
She stopped breathing for a moment.
“What hospital?”
“St. Joseph’s. The week they were born.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“How did you know where we were?”
“My father knew.”
“You said you didn’t open the letter.”
“I didn’t.”
“When?”
“Six days after the delivery.”
“Who told you?”
“My father’s assistant.”
“What did you do?”
Marcus’s voice became quieter. “I drove there.”
“And?”
“I sat in the parking garage.”
Kesha gripped the phone.
“For how long?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“Did you come inside?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I called my father. He said if I went upstairs, I would be accepting responsibility before testing. He said you would use the babies to force me back into the marriage.”
Kesha’s laugh sounded strange in the empty hotel room.
“I was sleeping in a vinyl chair beside four incubators.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then.”
“I knew you were there.”
“You knew four babies were there.”
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than denial.
“Did you see us?”
“Through the glass doors in the lobby. A nurse took you past in a wheelchair. You didn’t see me.”
Kesha remembered the wheelchair. She had hated it. Her legs were swollen, her incision burned, and a volunteer had placed a knitted blanket over her knees. She had been carrying four small bottles of expressed milk in a plastic basin.
Marcus had been somewhere beyond the glass.
“What made you leave?”
“I was afraid.”
“Stop using fear as if it drove the car.”
He said nothing.
“You drove there,” she continued. “You parked. You walked into the lobby. Then you chose your father’s voice over four children upstairs.”
“Yes.”
The honesty offered no relief.
Kesha ended the call.
May you like
She drove to Patricia’s house too fast, then slowed before entering the private road. Snow had begun again. The windshield wipers pushed it aside in uneven arcs.
Inside the mansion, Ethan was lying on the library carpet with Walter’s head on his stomach. Olivia and Patricia were hanging four wooden ornaments on a small tree near the windows. Sophia stood at the desk reading the labels on framed photographs. Noah sat halfway up the staircase, watching everyone.
