Page 63 of Ricardo

This time, Patrick recognizes it.

He nods. “Then we are grateful she is in capable hands.”

I do not like that phrasing either.

As if Julia had been transferred between caretakers.

As if Mario owns what Patrick cannot currently manage himself.

As if her life is a file passed from one desk to another.

I look at him and wonder how long he has spoken this way without going unchecked.

Beside me, Mario’s patience thins to the last thread.

“Julia is employed by my company,” he says. “She is not in my custody.”

The words are quiet.

No one outside our circle could possibly understand why Suzanne’s face freezes for half a second.

Patrick sets his glass down as well. “I gave the wrong impression.”

“Perhaps,” Mario says.

There is my brother.

No raised voice. No threat. No scene.

Just a closed door where a moment ago there had been an opportunity.

Whatever business we might have had with Judge Patrick O'Brien is no more. And I, for one, am glad of it.

Patrick studies him for another second, and whatever calculation follows must tell him to retreat. His smile returns, smaller and more careful. “I am glad to hear she is doing well. Truly.”

Mario accepts that with a nod.

Victoria’s expression softens just enough to make the next words impossible to accuse. “I think she would appreciate hearing that from you.”

Suzanne blinks.

Patrick says nothing for one beat too long.

I wonder if he has any idea what his daughter wants to hear from him.

Not approval for where she has landed. Not commentary on the job. Not assessment of her choices like evidence admitted before the bench.

Something simple, perhaps.

You look happier.

I am sorry.

I trust you.

I am proud of you.

Small sentences.