Chapter 7: What the Morning Brought
I didn't sleep.
I sat at the kitchen table until the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows went from black to gray to the pale, washed-out blue of early morning.
James had stayed until midnight, walking me through what would happen next — the formal statements, the financial review, the request to reopen the inquiry into Daniel's accident.
Reeves had taken the USB drive and the documents under a chain of custody agreement.
Marsh had taken Victoria.
Grace and Lily had fallen asleep in the guest room.
I had heard Lily ask, just before Grace closed the door, whether the bad lady was coming back.
Grace had said no.
Lily had said okay in the tone of a child who decides to believe something because she needs to, and that had been the end of it.
I made coffee at five in the morning and stood at the window and thought about the merger call that had brought me home early.
One rescheduled phone call.
If it hadn't been moved, I would have been across town until seven.
I would have come home to an empty kitchen and a story I would never have been able to prove.
At seven-fifteen, Grace appeared in the kitchen doorway.
She was still in her uniform from the day before.
Her shoulder was stiff — I could see it in the way she held herself, the slight forward tilt that meant she was protecting it without thinking about it.
"How bad is it?" I asked.
"I've had worse," she said.
"That's not what I asked."
She sat down across from me.
"It's bruised.
Maybe more.
I'll see a doctor today."
"I'll arrange it." I refilled my cup and set a second one in front of her.
"Grace.
I need to ask you something."
"I know," she said.
"The NDA Victoria made you sign.
What exactly was in it?"
Grace wrapped both hands around the cup.
"She came to me six months after Daniel d*ed.
She said she knew about Lily.
She said she had evidence that Daniel and I had been together while you and she were already engaged." She paused.
"She said if I ever told you about Lily, she would report me to immigration and tell your board that I had been in a relationship with your brother specifically to access the Harlow family.
She called it — " Grace's voice tightened — "predatory."
"She threatened to destroy your reputation and your immigration status."
"Yes."
"To keep you quiet about a child who was Daniel's daughter and had a legal right to be recognized as part of this family."
Grace looked at the table.
"She said the estate couldn't afford the complication.
That's the word she used.
Complication."
"Lily is not a complication," I said.
Grace looked up.
"She's Daniel's daughter," I said.
"Which makes her my niece.
Which means she has a place in this family that no one has the right to take from her." I held Grace's gaze.
"And you protected her.
For four years, under that kind of pressure, you protected her."
Grace's chin trembled.
She pressed her lips together hard.
"I was so afraid," she said.
"Every day I was afraid she would find a way to take Lily.
Or have me sent away.
I didn't know what to do except stay close and keep Lily safe and wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For you to come home early." She let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
"I know that sounds — I don't know what it sounds like.
But I kept thinking, if Nathan ever sees it himself, if he ever walks in and sees it with his own eyes, then maybe —"
"Then maybe I'd believe you."
"Yes."
I was quiet for a moment.
"I should have seen it before.
I should have —"
"You couldn't have known," Grace said.
"She was very careful.
She was always very careful."
Lily appeared in the doorway behind Grace, barefoot, hair tangled from sleep, carrying the stuffed rabbit she'd apparently had tucked inside her coat the day before.
She looked at me with Daniel's eyes — I could see it clearly now, now that I knew — and walked directly to the table and climbed into the chair next to Grace without being invited.
"Is there breakfast?" she asked.
"There is," I said.
"Can I have eggs?"
"You can have eggs."
She nodded, satisfied, and set the rabbit on the table in front of her.
She looked at it for a moment, then looked at me.
"Your face is like my daddy's," she said.
Not sadly.
Just as a fact she had noticed and wanted to mention.
My throat tightened.
"I know," I said.
"He was my brother."
She thought about this.
"So you're like an uncle?"
"Yes.
Exactly like an uncle."
She considered that.
"Okay," she said.
Then: "Can uncles make eggs?"
"They can," I said, and stood up.
Grace's hand came up and covered her mouth.
Her shoulders shook once, silently.
I pretended not to see it because I thought she needed that — the privacy of a moment that belonged only to her.
I cracked eggs into a pan.
The morning light came through the windows.
Lily told Grace that the rabbit's name was Percy and that Percy also wanted eggs but probably couldn't eat them because he was a rabbit and also made of fabric.
James called at eight forty-five.
"Victoria's attorney arrived at seven," he said.
"She's been formally questioned.
Marsh wants your statement this afternoon if you're able."
"I'll be there," I said.
"There's something else.
The financial crimes unit ran a preliminary trace on the shell accounts last night.
Two of the three have already been frozen." He paused.
"Nathan, the total they're looking at is closer to sixty-one million.
Not fifty-three."
"Daniel didn't know about the last eight million."
"No.
She moved it in the four months after he d*ed." Another pause.
"After she no longer had to be careful."
I stood at the stove with the phone against my ear and thought about my brother tracking numbers in the dark, building his case one recording at a time, knowing something was wrong and not being able to stop it fast enough.
"James," I said.
"The accident inquiry.
How long to get it reopened?"
"I've already filed the request," he said.
"Given the PI invoice and the recording, I expect the coroner's office will agree to a review within the week."
"Good," I said.
"Thank you."
I put the phone down.
Lily was explaining to Grace that Percy had been on many adventures, including one involving a supermarket and a very tall shelf.
Grace was listening with complete seriousness.
I put the eggs on two plates and set them on the table.
"Percy doesn't get a plate," I said.
"House rules."
Lily giggled.
It was a small, ordinary sound.
May you like
The kind of sound that had no business existing in the same kitchen where, less than twenty-four hours ago, a woman had raised a hockey stick over a child's head.
But there it was.
