Chapter 6: The Things Daniel Finally Said
They kept Richard on the floor for another forty minutes.
I could track it by sound — the shift in voices, the elevator arriving, the specific quiet that follows when someone is formally taken into custody and the people left behind don't know what to say to each other.
Diane arrived during that quiet.
She came through the door with her coat still half on, her hair not brushed, and she took one look at me and crossed the room without a word and sat on the edge of the bed and put her arm around me carefully, the way you hold someone when you're not sure what's broken.
"I got a call from a police officer," she said.
"He said you needed someone here."
"I'm okay."
"Maya."
"I'm okay." I leaned into her anyway.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to feel the weight of the last two hours settle somewhere outside my own chest.
She looked at the three bassinets.
"All healthy?"
"All healthy."
She exhaled slowly.
"Good.
That's the only thing that matters right now."
It wasn't the only thing.
But it was the first thing, and she was right to say it.
Twenty minutes later, Detective Reeves returned.
He asked Diane to wait outside, which she did without argument, pausing only to squeeze my hand at the door.
Reeves sat down.
He had more pages now — printed, it looked like, from a different source.
"Your husband has given a statement," he said.
"I want to walk you through it, because some of it will be difficult to hear, and I'd rather you hear it from me than read it later in a document."
"Go ahead."
"Daniel states that he became aware of his father's arrangement with Dr.
Voss at approximately thirty-four weeks of your pregnancy.
He says he confronted his father and was told the arrangement was already financially committed and that backing out would expose the family to significant legal liability." Reeves paused.
"He says his father told him that if he interfered, Richard would ensure Daniel lost access to the company, the trust, and his legal standing as a Vance."
"He threatened his own son."
"Yes.
Daniel states he believed the threat was credible." Reeves looked at his notes.
"He also states that two weeks ago, he contacted an attorney independently.
Not Grace Ellison — a different firm.
He says he was trying to find a way to stop the arrangement without triggering his father's response.
He hadn't yet found one when you went into labor."
I thought about the two weeks Daniel had spent in the same bed as me, eating dinner across from me, asking me how I was feeling.
Two weeks of knowing.
"He had two weeks," I said.
"Yes."
"He could have told me."
"Yes."
"He could have called the police himself."
"Yes." Reeves didn't soften it.
"He could have.
He didn't."
The room was quiet for a moment.
"Is he being charged?"
"That determination is still being made.
His cooperation today is a factor.
The fact that he did not physically participate in the attempt is a factor.
The fact that he knew and did not report it is also a factor." Reeves closed the folder.
"I want to be honest with you — it's possible he won't face criminal charges.
It's also possible he will.
That decision isn't mine."
I nodded slowly.
"What about Richard?"
"Richard Vance is being held.
The charges being considered include conspiracy to commit fraud, falsification of legal documents, and child trafficking." He said the last two words carefully.
"The USB drive your mother-in-law provided — we've confirmed it's intact.
Our forensic team will begin reviewing it today."
"Jessica gave it to me.
Not the police."
"She's given a parallel statement.
She's also requested protective status." He looked at me.
"She's afraid of him."
"She should be."
A knock at the door.
The nurse leaned in.
"Mrs.
Vance, your husband is asking if he can come in.
He says five minutes."
I looked at Reeves.
"Your choice entirely," he said.
I thought about Daniel in the ultrasound room.
His tears.
His hand in mine.
The way he had painted the nursery over a single weekend in October, all three walls, refusing to let me help because of the fumes.
The way he had read aloud from a parenting book in bed, doing different voices for different chapters, making me laugh until I had to ask him to stop.
And then I thought about two weeks of silence.
"Five minutes," I said.
"And the door stays open."
Daniel came in looking like a man who had already rehearsed what he wanted to say and then lost the words on the way down the hall.
He stood at the foot of the bed.
He didn't reach for me.
"I don't expect you to forgive me," he said.
"Not today."
"Good."
"I need you to know that I never — I would never have let him take—"
"But you almost did." My voice didn't rise.
"You almost let it happen because you were more afraid of losing your inheritance than you were of losing our son."
His face collapsed.
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
"I didn't know how to fight him.
I've never known how to fight him."
"You could have told me.
I would have fought him."
"I know." His voice broke on it.
"I know you would have.
That's—" He stopped.
"I was ashamed.
I didn't want you to see what my family was.
What I came from."
"I needed to know."
"I know."
The babies were quiet.
All three of them, for the first time since the room had filled with people, were simply sleeping.
"I don't know what happens now," Daniel said.
"Between us.
I'm not asking you to decide that today."
"I won't."
He nodded.
He looked at his sons for a long moment — really looked, the way you look at something you almost lost.
May you like
Then he walked out.
The door stayed open, the way I'd asked.
