Chapter 5: What Lauren Offered
Lauren's attorney left at half past midnight.
His name was Gareth Moss — Maya had heard it mentioned twice in the foyer, both times by Lauren, both times with the particular emphasis people use when they want a name to sound like a shield.
He was gone now.
The front door had closed behind him with a soft, expensive click.
Lauren came into the sitting room alone.
Maya stood immediately.
"He's sleeping," Maya said.
Her voice was flat.
She positioned herself between Lauren and the sofa.
"I'm not here for Noah." Lauren stopped a few feet inside the doorway.
She looked different without the attorney beside her.
Smaller, somehow, though she hadn't moved differently.
"I want to talk to you."
"Then talk."
Lauren glanced at Noah's sleeping form.
Then back at Maya.
"Not here."
"I'm not leaving him."
A pause.
Lauren seemed to weigh something.
Then she sat down in the armchair across the room — not close to the sofa, not close to Noah — and folded her hands in her lap.
"You've worked here for three years," she said.
"I know how long I've worked here."
"You're good at your job.
Daniel trusts you.
Noah—" She stopped.
"Noah is attached to you."
"What do you want, Lauren?"
Lauren looked at her directly.
"I want to know what you told that detective."
"The truth."
"Which part of it?"
Maya said nothing.
Lauren's composure was still intact — but it was the kind of intact that takes effort.
Maya could see the effort now.
The slight tension at the jaw.
The hands a little too still in her lap.
"I'm going to tell you something," Lauren said, "and I need you to hear it before you decide what to do next."
"I've already decided."
"Maya." Her voice dropped.
"Victor Hale is not a man you want to be in the way of.
He doesn't — he doesn't respond to obstacles the way normal people do."
Maya felt something cold move through her.
She kept her face still.
"Is that a warning?"
"It's information."
"It sounds like a threat."
"It's not from me." Lauren's eyes were steady.
"I'm trying to help you."
"You pushed a six-year-old down a staircase."
"I did not push him." The words came out sharp, fast — too fast.
Then Lauren seemed to hear herself and pulled back.
"He lost his balance.
I reached for him.
I was too slow."
"He told the detective you pushed him."
"He's six.
He was frightened.
He doesn't understand what he saw."
"He understood enough to recognize Victor Hale's face on a security screen."
Lauren went very quiet.
The fire in the grate had burned low.
The room was dim and warm and wrong.
"What does Victor Hale have on you?" Maya asked.
"That's not—"
"What does he have on you, Lauren?
Because you are not a stupid woman.
You married into this family, you've managed Daniel for two years, you've kept this house running exactly the way you wanted it.
You are not stupid.
So why are you still protecting him?"
Lauren's hands moved — just slightly — unfolding and refolding in her lap.
"He was there the night Claire d*ed," Maya said.
"Mrs.
Aldridge prepared drinks.
Forty-seven seconds of footage were deleted from a system that you have access to.
And a man who was supposed to be out of the country walked through this house tonight." She paused.
"What am I missing?"
Lauren looked at her for a long moment.
Then she said: "He has a recording."
Maya waited.
"Of Daniel." Lauren's voice was barely above a whisper now.
"From fifteen years ago.
Before Claire.
Before any of this." She looked at the fire.
"Daniel was a different person then.
He made a choice — one choice — and Victor has had it ever since.
That's how Victor works.
He finds the one thing and he keeps it forever."
"What kind of choice?"
Lauren shook her head.
"Lauren—"
"I've said enough." She stood.
The composure was back, fully assembled, like a coat she'd picked up off the floor.
"I'm telling you to be careful.
That's all."
She walked to the door.
"If you're trying to protect Daniel," Maya said to her back, "this isn't the way."
Lauren stopped.
She didn't turn around.
"I've been protecting Daniel," she said quietly, "since before you ever walked through that front door."
She left.
Maya stood in the dim room and listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway.
Then she looked at Noah, still sleeping, one hand curled under his cheek.
She reached into her apron pocket and took out her own phone.
She opened a new message.
She typed a name she hadn't used in two years.
She typed: *I need to talk to you.
Tonight.
It's about Claire.*
May you like
She sent it.
Then she sat down beside Noah and waited.
