Chapter 14: The Terms

Doran was waiting outside the NICU doors when I came back, with a paper cup of tea in each hand.

It was his day off, and he was in jeans and a gray sweater.

"The nurse says Maddy goes home Friday," he said.

"I know. I cried at the desk."

"I heard."

I took the tea.

We stood at the window and looked at my daughter, who had one fist against her cheek again.

"Can I tell you something that isn't in any file?" I said.

"Yes."

"I own sixty-two percent of Dean's company."

He didn't say anything for a moment.

Then he laughed, low and astonished, and rubbed his jaw with his whole hand.

"Of course you do."

"My father left it to me. Dean has begged my trust for money for eight years and never known who it was."

"And you're meeting him."

"Tomorrow, at his office. He thinks he's meeting a stranger."

"Are you going to tell him it's you?"

"In the room, in front of his board."

His eyes had gone very bright, and he looked away from them.

"Good," he said. "That's good, Claire."

I went to put the cup down on the windowsill, and the chain at my neck caught in my hair.

I tugged at it, and it pulled harder.

"Hold still," Doran said.

He set his own cup down and stepped behind me.

His fingers moved at the back of my neck, careful and warm, working the clasp loose from the strands.

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