Page 81 of His Daughter

"I know."

"No more mistakes. No more leaving Lena with anyone who isn't us or the night nurse or Mrs. Parrish."

"Agreed."

He was quiet for a moment. His fingers slowly moved through my curls.

"There's the issue of my chief of staff." His voice was different now. "He's the one who paid Kira off. I saw the footage. Security camera in the Vanguard lobby. He walked her to a chair, handed her an envelope, and told her to handle it quietly."

I lifted my head and looked at him. "You saw it?"

"Today. Julian and I watched it together. The footage is time-stamped. It's Graham." His jaw flexed. "But the footage alone doesn't prove I didn't order it. He works for me. A lawyer could argue he was acting on my instructions. If this comes out during the custody hearing —"

"It could work against you."

"Against us."

I put my hand on his face. His cheek. He turned his head and pressed his lips against my palm, held them there. His eyes were closed.

"I need him to admit he acted alone," he said against my hand. "I need a confession. And the timing is — there's no good time for this. The hearing is in three weeks. The Caine referral is going to the SEC. Everything is happening at once, and I don't — " He stopped and opened his eyes. "I don't know how to handle all of it."

"You don't have to handle all of it." I traced his jaw with my thumb. "We'll go through it together. The hearing. Graham. Whatever comes."

He looked at me. "Together."

"Together," I repeated.

He turned his head and kissed my palm again. Then he pulled me closer, my head settled back against his chest, his hand found my hair, the monitor blinked, Lena slept, and the city held its breath outside the windows.

TWENTY-TWO

DECLAN

I peeled my eyes open to the sound of babbling.

The monitor on the nightstand was glowing green, and through its tiny speaker, Lena was having a conversation with someone who wasn't there. Six in the morning, and my daughter was already holding court.

Thea was beside me. Her back against my chest, my arm over her waist, her hair fanned across the pillow in a dark spiral that smelled like shea butter and the lavender hand cream. She stirred when the babbling climbed in volume.

"Mmm…" Her voice was thick with sleep. "Coffee."

I kissed her forehead. "I'll make it."

"You'll make it wrong."

"I've been making it right for two weeks."

"You got lucky. Twice."

I smiled against her hair, slid my arm from around her, and swung my legs out of bed. The floor was cold. I padded to the kitchen in joggers and a T-shirt, bare feet on the hardwood, and started the machine.

I carried them back to the bedroom. Thea was sitting up, the monitor in her lap, listening to Lena's monologue. I set her cup on the nightstand. She picked it up, took a sip, and closed her eyes.

"Okay." She opened them. "You got lucky three times."

I sat beside her. My shoulder against hers. The monitor between us on the duvet, Lena's babbling filling the quiet room.

"I have to deal with Graham today," I said.