Page 59 of The Silent Hour

I slid the notebook into my briefcase and clicked the latches shut. “We’ll see.”

Eric and Katerina rose smoothly beside me. We were turning toward the door when Cortez spoke again, his voice dropping into something quieter and more dangerous.

“There is one more condition, one of my own.”

I stopped. Of course there fucking was. “What condition?”

“When you take my case, my daughter works with you.”

I stared at him. Not because he’d said when—I’d expected that kind of arrogance. It was the other word.

“Your daughter?”

Every preliminary report I’d seen listed one child. His son, who was just as fucked in the head as his father. There was no daughter or whispered second family. Nothing.

Cortez’s expression shifted into something almost smug. “She does not carry my name.”

My father’s warning resurfaced in my mind, clear and cold, assume they were already in my house. Apparently, he’d been right.

“Who is your daughter?”

Cortez watched me for another beat, letting the silence stretch taut between us. “Lila Marino.”

For the first time since I’d entered that room, my thoughts didn't just slow—they fucking stopped. The name landed like a physical blow. For one suspended second, every other fact, the charges, the money, the risk, all vanished beneath it.

Beside me, Eric sat like a marble statue, his features utterly still. Across the gleaming mahogany table, Katerina absorbed Cortez’s confession with only the faintest arch of her brow. Years of courtroom battles had trained my face into a perfect mask of neutrality.

“Explain,” I said, my voice low and steady.

“Her mother and I had an arrangement many years ago.” His tone was casual, as if discussing the weather.

“I don’t give a shit about the arrangement.”

His lips curved into a wider smile, too easy, too sure. “I imagine not.”

“Does Lila know you’re her father?” I questioned, thinking about this revelation logically.

“She knows enough.”

His non-answer felt like a threat I couldn’t identify. Not betrayal, yet, but dangerous fragments of truth were falling into place.

“What exactly does she know about your case?” I pressed.

He folded his hands on the table. “My daughter is exceptionally intelligent. She knows how to listen. She knows how to remember details, and she understands more about my affairs than she realizes.”

I forced my throat to swallow. “Has she performed legal work for you?”

“No.”

“Moved money? Or communicated with anyone on your behalf?”

“Not knowingly.”

“Not knowingly.” The two words echoed in my skull. Fuck. “This meeting is over.”

Cortez’s brows lifted in mock surprise. “You haven’t agreed to my condition.”

“You don’t dictate staffing at my firm. If we represent you, I decide who touches your case. Not you.”