Chapter 8: The Morning He Made the Call
Marcus's brother was named Patrick, and he asked no questions when they arrived at half past midnight.
He showed Lena to the guest room, found pajamas for Noah from a box in the hall closet, and put a pot of coffee on without being asked.
He was that kind of man.
Marcus sat at the kitchen table until two in the morning, going through Daniel's documents page by page.
Patrick sat across from him and said nothing, which was also the right thing.
At two-fifteen, Marcus looked up.
"I need a name," he said.
"The best financial crimes attorney you know.
Not someone connected to the company.
Someone completely outside."
Patrick didn't hesitate.
"Claire Sato.
She's in Boston.
I'll text you her number."
"Tonight?"
"Tonight."
At seven the next morning, Lena found Marcus still at the kitchen table.
The documents were organized into three neat stacks.
His coffee cup was empty.
He looked like a man who had not slept but had done something more useful instead.
"Did you rest?" she asked.
"No.
Did you?"
"A little." She sat across from him.
"Noah's still asleep.
He was asking for you in his sleep.
He said 'Daddy' twice."
Something moved across Marcus's face that he didn't try to hide.
"I called Claire Sato at six," he said.
"She's reviewed the summary I sent her.
She wants the original recordings and documents by noon." He looked at Lena.
"She also said that what you've described — the threat Vivi made against you, using Noah as leverage — that's a separate matter from the financial charges.
She wants a full statement from you."
"I'll give her one."
"It won't be comfortable."
"I know."
"Vivi will fight this.
She has money and she has Calloway and she has four years of practice making things disappear."
"I know that too." Lena looked at him steadily.
"Marcus.
I didn't come into your house because I thought this would be easy.
I came because Daniel d*ed and nobody was going to do anything about it unless I did." She paused.
"I'm not stopping now."
He nodded slowly.
"There's something else," he said.
"Claire raised it this morning.
If Vivi is charged — when she's charged — Noah's situation becomes a legal matter.
His parentage.
His custody." He looked at the table.
"She asked me who his biological mother is."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"I don't know," Marcus said.
"I assumed — Vivi told me she was pregnant.
We were married.
I had no reason to—" He stopped.
"Did Daniel know?"
"He suspected," Lena said carefully.
"He thought Vivi may have misrepresented the pregnancy.
He thought Noah might have been — acquired through channels that weren't disclosed to you." She chose the word precisely.
"He didn't have proof.
He said it was the one thing he couldn't document."
Marcus was quiet for a long time.
"He's my son," he said finally.
"Whatever the biology says.
He's mine."
"Yes," Lena said.
"He is."
"And he knows you." Marcus looked at her.
"He's known you for fourteen months and he's been protecting that knowledge for six of them because a four-year-old child was more afraid of losing you than of anything Vivi threatened him with."
Lena's eyes filled.
She didn't look away.
"I need to ask you something," Marcus said.
"Ask."
"When this is over — when the legal part is finished and Noah is safe — what do you want?"
She didn't answer immediately.
She looked out the window at Patrick's small backyard, the morning light coming in low and pale across the grass.
"I want him to know the truth," she said.
"When he's old enough to understand it.
I want him to know that his uncle Daniel was brave.
I want him to know that someone fought for him." She paused.
"I don't need a title.
I don't need anything official.
I just need to be allowed to stay."
Marcus looked at her for a long moment.
"You're already staying," he said.
Patrick appeared in the doorway with a fresh pot of coffee and the particular discretion of a man who had heard everything and would repeat none of it.
From the guest room, small feet hit the floor.
"Daddy?" Noah's voice, still thick with sleep.
"In the kitchen, buddy."
The feet came down the hall at speed.
Noah appeared in the doorway in borrowed pajamas, hair flattened on one side, and went directly to his father's arms.
Marcus lifted him and held him the way you hold something you almost lost.
Then Noah twisted around and reached for Lena.
She took his hand.
He held both of them at once, one in each fist, and seemed entirely satisfied with this arrangement.
Marcus met Lena's eyes over the top of his son's head.
May you like
Neither of them said anything.
They didn't need to.
