Chapter 8: Seventy-Two Hours
The paternity test came back on a Thursday morning.
Edmund called while I was standing in the garden with a cup of coffee that had gone cold.
I had been out there for twenty minutes without drinking it, watching the light move across the far wall, thinking about a photograph of a harbor restaurant and a letter written in careful handwriting.
"It's confirmed," Edmund said.
"One hundred percent."
I set the cup down on the garden wall.
"Daniel," he said.
"Are you there?"
"Yes," I said.
"I'm here."
"There's more.
The lab flagged something on Paulina's background check — the one I ran after we retrieved the lockbox.
Her name before she changed it was Paulina Voss-Hartwell.
Her mother was your father's first cousin.
She knew about the inheritance clause before she ever walked into your life.
The document she took was the one that would have automatically recognized Valentina's rights the moment paternity was confirmed."
I stood in the garden for a long time after he said that.
"She came looking," I said.
"She came looking," Edmund confirmed.
"The engagement, the access to the house, the safe — all of it was to get to that document before you could use it."
"She knew about Valentina."
"She knew there was a possibility.
She didn't know for certain until she found Marisol and put the pieces together.
After that, she had two options.
Remove the document, or remove Marisol." A pause.
"She tried both."
I thought about a little girl in duck-patterned socks holding a golden button.
I thought about Marisol turning around at the door of my study because I was laughing and looked happy.
I thought about four words on a blank sheet of paper.
"The document," I said.
"Can we recover it?"
"We already have.
Her lawyer surrendered it yesterday afternoon as part of the cooperation agreement.
She's trying to reduce her exposure." Edmund's voice was careful.
"She's agreed to return it in exchange for us not pursuing the criminal route.
That's her lawyer's opening position.
I told them we would consider it."
"And what's your position?"
"My position," Edmund said, "is that she entered your home under false pretenses, accessed your private safe on multiple occasions, removed a legal document with the intent to defraud a minor of her inheritance rights, and spent three years coercing a vulnerable employee into silence." He paused.
"My position is that a cooperation agreement does not cover all of that."
"Then don't let it," I said.
"Understood."
I ended the call and went back inside.
Marisol was in the kitchen with Valentina, helping her with a puzzle on the kitchen table — large wooden pieces, the kind with animals on them.
Valentina was holding a piece shaped like a giraffe and frowning at the board with deep concentration.
I stood in the doorway.
Marisol looked up.
She read my face.
Her hand went still on the table.
"It's confirmed," I said.
She didn't say anything.
She pressed her lips together and looked down at the puzzle, and her shoulders rose once with a breath she was holding, and then she let it out slowly.
Valentina looked up at me.
"Giraffe," she said, holding out the piece.
I walked to the table and crouched down beside her.
"Where does it go?" I asked.
She studied the board with great seriousness.
Then she pointed to a gap near the top and pressed the piece into place.
It fit perfectly.
She looked up at me with an expression of complete satisfaction.
"There," she said.
"There," I agreed.
Marisol was looking at the table.
One tear had made it past her careful guard and was moving down her cheek.
She didn't wipe it away.
May you like
"What happens now?" she asked quietly.
"Now," I said, "we do this properly."
