I stood up. My legs held me. The world hadn’t ended. It had just come into focus. Suddenly, with a blinding, brutal light. Frank had more work to do. I needed access to that hospital archive. I needed to find Dr. Reed again. I needed to see that girl, Valerie. But first, I had to act normal. To be the cold, distant Charlotte I had always been. I couldn’t alert William. Not yet.
The next day, when Ethan came down for breakfast, I was already in the kitchen dressed for the office.
“Your punishment stands,” I said without preamble. “No console. No going out. Louisa will stay with you. I have a very busy day.”
He scowled but said nothing. He was too sure of his victory, of his alliance with his father.
“By the way,” I added, picking up my coffee cup, “that Yankees game with your father—don’t go bragging about it at school, even if it’s a week away. It’s not right to show off when you’re grounded. Understood?”
He looked at me, surprised that I knew about the game and that I wasn’t protesting openly. He nodded suspiciously.
“Good,” I said, and left.
I didn’t go to the office. I went to a coffee shop downtown, and from there I called Sterling Academy. I asked to speak with Mr. Davies.
“Mrs. Hayes, good morning. Is something wrong?”
“Yes, Mr. Davies. About yesterday’s incident. The girl, Valerie, the one who defends the others. I’d like to make an anonymous donation for her education or for whatever she needs, and, if it’s possible, I’d like to meet with her counselor to apologize personally on behalf of my family for my son’s behavior. In private, of course.”
On the other end, the headmaster seemed moved.
“That’s very generous of you, Mrs. Hayes. Honestly, the girl has a tough time. She’s a fighter, but the system isn’t easy. I’ll give you the contact for Sister Catherine, the director of the home. She’s a saint. She can arrange a discreet meeting.”
“Thank you, Mr. Davies. And please, this is between us. I don’t want Ethan to feel singled out in another way.”
“Of course, of course. I understand.”
I hung up. It wasn’t generosity. It was the first stone. I was going to meet my daughter. I was going to see with my own eyes what William had stolen from me. And then, stone by stone, I was going to demolish his world just as he had demolished mine.
Frank Russo was on time for our meeting at the café on Madison Avenue. He wore a worn leather jacket and smelled of stale cigarette smoke and cheap coffee. He sat across from me without ceremony.
“Charlotte.”
His small, shrewd eyes scanned me.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Something worse,” I said, sliding a thick manila envelope across the table. “I need the complete delivery file. Mine and Jessica Miller’s. Copies of everything. Nurses’ notes, neonatology reports, signatures, everything.”
Frank took the envelope without opening it, weighed it in his hand, and tucked it into an inside pocket.
“Mount Sinai isn’t a small-town clerk’s office. Their data security is tight, and it’s been eight years.”
“That’s why I’m paying you. Because you know who to bribe, who to pressure, or who to hack. I don’t care about the method. I just want the papers.”
He smiled, showing yellowish teeth.
“Straight to the point, as always. Just like your father. Fine. You’ll have it. Anything else on the woman?”
“What do you have?”
“Lives in a rent-stabilized apartment in Queens. Works at a perfume counter in a mall. Afternoon shifts. Legally single. No criminal record. Her son is listed as deceased at birth.”
He paused for effect.
“Interesting, isn’t it? Considering there’s an eight-year-old boy who looks like her and calls her auntie in photos.”
A deceased son. A death certificate to erase the trail of the boy now living in my house. The nausea returned, but I choked it down with a sip of ice water.
“Go on.”
“Your husband visits her every couple of weeks, sometimes with the kid. He pays her rent. He has a credit card in her name. Discreet, but not that discreet. She’s not the first kept mistress in New York.”
He shrugged.
“The strange part is the kid. Usually men run from responsibility, not take it on and bring it into their own home. Unless…”
He looked at me intently.
“Unless the kid is the real time bomb.”
I didn’t answer. My silence was confirmation enough. Frank whistled softly.
“Charlotte, this is big.”
“That’s why you’re well paid. I want to know every step William takes, every call if you can, every wire transfer, and I need access to his computer, his cloud accounts.”
“That’s trickier and more expensive.”
“I already told you money is not an issue. Do it, and do it fast.”
He stood up.
“You’ll have the hospital papers in a week. The rest will follow. Be careful with the kid. Children see and hear more than we think.”
After he left, I sat there staring at my reflection in the windowpane. An elegant, pale woman with dark eyes circled by shadows. The owner of a perfect facade hiding a viper’s nest.
That night at home, the tension was palpable. Ethan roamed the house like a caged tiger, sulking over his punishment. I was working in my study, but my attention was tuned to the sounds of the house. Around nine, I heard his voice upstairs. He was on the phone. From the tone, it was with William. I stood up silently and approached the half-open door to his room, spying on my own son, the height of family pathology.
“Yeah, Dad. She’s being a total pain. Won’t let me do anything. Yeah, I know. Now I have to put up with it. But when are you coming back? Can we go to Aunt Jessica’s again? Yeah, with the pool and the dog. Of course, I won’t tell her. She’s a bore. She’s not Mom. She—”
The word resonated in my head, cold and sharp. He knew. He had always known. And William encouraged it.
“Yeah, I love you so much, Dad. I love you. Not her.”
