Chapter 3 - The Lawyer at the Door
I didn't run.
That was mistake number two.
I told the doorman to send Gerald Voss up.
Mara looked at me as if I had lost my mind.
“You don't invite a snake into the nursery.”
“I want to hear him lie.”
“You think you're better at this than he is?”
“I think it's my apartment.”
“Fantastic. Put that on your tombstone.”
The boys were watching us.
I lowered my voice.
“Bedroom. Lock the door.”
Mara hesitated.
Then she herded the boys down the hall.
Milo looked back.
“Is the evil banker coming?”
“No.”
The elevator chimed.
I muttered, “Worse.”
Gerald entered wearing a camel coat and the same pleasant expression he used at funerals.
“Adrian.”
“Gerald.”
His eyes moved around the apartment.
Five bowls on the counter.
Four children's coats.
A toy dinosaur under the sofa.
He missed nothing.
“I heard you canceled your engagement.”
“You work fast.”
“Your mother is concerned.”
“My mother can call me.”
“She did.”
“And then she called you.”
Gerald smiled.
There it was.
A tiny confirmation.
He sat without being invited.
“You've had an emotional afternoon.”
“Did you visit Mara in the hospital six years ago?”
No pause.
“No.”
Too fast.
I tossed the birth certificates onto the table.
His gaze touched them.
Then me.
“Where did you get these?”
Wrong question.
I leaned forward.
“You knew there were four.”
He blinked.
Once.
I hadn't said four.
The bedroom door creaked.
Mara stood there, pale.
Gerald saw her.
His mask cracked.
“Mara.”
She lifted the flash drive.
“Still nothing?”
Gerald rose.
“What do you think is on that?”
“I don't know,” I said.
He looked at me.
Then at her.
That told me he did.
Gerald reached inside his coat.
Mara grabbed a kitchen knife.
I stepped between them.
He pulled out his phone.
For one ridiculous second, nobody moved.
Then Max shouted from the hallway, “Mom has a knife!”
Gerald actually laughed.
It was ugly and tired.
“Put it down, Mara.”
“You first.”
“It's a phone.”
“I know.”
I took it from him.
He let me.
On the screen was a photograph.
My father.
Alive.
Standing outside a small house beside Mara.
The date stamp was four years ago.
My father had told me he was in Zurich that week.
I zoomed in.
Behind them, through the open doorway, I could see four toddler boys.
My knees went weak.
“You said my father knew.”
Gerald's voice softened.
“He did more than know.”
Mara lowered the knife.
“What does that mean?”
Gerald looked at her with something close to pity.
Then he looked at me.
“Your father paid to keep those boys alive.”
A crash came from the bedroom.
We all turned.
The window was open.
May you like
And Micah was gone.
