Chapter 6: The Day Walter Came to the Hospital
He showed up at eleven the next morning.
I knew before the door opened because Carol — who I had learned was a paralegal from Richard's firm, assigned to stay close until things were resolved — stepped into the hallway and came back with her jaw set.
"Your father is at the nurses' station," she said.
"He's asking which room you're in.
He has Tatum with him."
"Did Richard say anything about this?"
"Richard said if Walter made contact in person, we document it and we don't engage alone." She was already reaching for her phone.
"I'm calling him now."
"Tell him not to come yet," I said.
"I want to hear what Walter says."
Carol looked at me for a moment.
Then she nodded and stepped back into the hallway.
Walter came in two minutes later.
Tatum stayed in the doorway.
She had changed out of my robe.
She was wearing a cream-colored blouse and holding a small bunch of flowers that still had the gas station cellophane on them.
Walter looked at Nora first.
Something moved across his face — not warmth exactly, but recognition.
Then he looked at me.
"You look tired," he said.
"I just had a baby."
He pulled the visitor's chair close and sat down without being invited.
"I want to clear the air, Nadia.
In person.
No lawyers, no paperwork.
Just us."
"Carol is outside the door."
"That's fine." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I made a serious error yesterday.
My temper got away from me.
I know that.
I'm not here to pretend otherwise."
"What are you here for?"
"To tell you that the competency idea — I shouldn't have said that.
It was a pressure tactic and it was wrong." He held my gaze.
"I'm asking you to let me help.
Genuinely.
Not with the house, not with the sale.
Just — help.
You're alone.
You have a newborn.
Let me be your father."
Tatum shifted in the doorway.
The gas station flowers crinkled.
"You went through Owen's filing cabinet," I said.
Walter's expression didn't break, but something behind it did.
A small, almost invisible tightening.
"I don't know what you mean."
"Three weeks before the accident.
A Saturday.
I was at Diane's baby shower." I kept my voice level.
"You used the spare key from Owen's desk drawer.
You photographed his estate documents with your phone.
The hallway camera caught all of it."
Tatum took a small step into the room.
"Walter—"
"Stay there," he said, without turning around.
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he sat back.
"Owen owed me," he said.
The warmth was completely gone now.
"Years of being kept at arm's length by that man.
Years of watching him build all of this while your mother and I — while I had nothing.
He owed me."
"He lent you money twice.
You never paid it back."
"That wasn't a loan.
That was family."
"He has it documented.
Richard has the records."
Walter stood up.
The chair scraped back.
"You want to do this the hard way, fine.
But understand — I will tie this estate up in proceedings for years.
You'll spend every penny Owen left you on legal fees before Nora is old enough to walk."
"Or," I said, "you leave this hospital right now, you remove your belongings from my house today, and you return the key.
And I don't take the camera footage to the police this afternoon."
He stared at me.
"You're bluffing," he said.
I picked up my phone from the bedside table and held it toward him.
On the screen was a still image from the hallway camera.
Timestamped.
Clear.
Walter in Owen's study.
Owen's filing cabinet open.
Walter's phone raised.
He looked at it for a long time.
Tatum said his name from the doorway.
Quietly.
Like a warning.
He turned and walked out without another word.
The gas station flowers landed on the floor beside the door where Tatum dropped them on her way out.
Carol appeared in the doorway thirty seconds later.
"Richard is on his way," she said.
"Tell him to take his time," I said.
"I think the hard part just got easier."
I believed that then.
May you like
I was wrong.
Because that evening, Richard called with news that made everything we had done so far feel like the opening move of a much longer game.
