Chapter 9 - What She Kept Hidden
Sterling didn't wait. He hastily gathered his files, pressed the elevator call button, and practically begged the doors to open.
Eleanor lingered for five agonizing seconds. She looked toward the closed door of the media room, where her grandsons were hiding. A flicker of profound, bitter regret passed over her features—not regret for her cruelty, but regret that she had lost the game. Without another word, she stepped into the elevator cab, the doors sliding shut between us like a guillotine.
The silence that followed was suffocatingly heavy.
Rosalind’s knees finally gave out. She sank onto the dining chair, burying her face in her hands. The adrenaline that had sustained her through the confrontation vanished, leaving behind pure, unadulterated shock.
I walked over, pulling a chair beside her, and rested my hand on her back, feeling the trembling rhythm of her breathing.
"It's over, Rose," I murmured. "She can't touch you. She can't touch them."
"She had people watching me, Christopher," Rosalind whispered, lifting her head. Her face was pale, haunted. "Three years ago, in Pittsburgh. A black sedan used to sit outside the laundromat where I worked nights. One evening, a man approached me. He told me that if I ever tried to contact your firm, someone would make a call to child protective services claiming I was leaving the boys unattended."
My teeth ground together so hard my jaw ached. Eleanor’s cruelty had known no bounds.
"That's why I kept running," she said, clutching my forearm. "Every time I saw a black car linger too long, every time a stranger asked too many questions about the twins, I packed our bags in the middle of the night. I moved us to Cleveland, to Baltimore, to small towns nobody cares about. I thought you hated us. I thought you had hired those people to keep us away from your clean, perfect life."
"I spent six years hating myself because I thought you walked away from me," I said, my voice cracking with emotion. "I thought I wasn't enough. I thought my family’s name, my ambition, had driven you away. I threw myself into work, into deals, into building a fortress of wealth because I didn't know how to feel anything else."
I reached out, gently wiping a tear from beneath her eye.
"You were always enough, Rosalind. You were the only thing that was ever real."
She looked at me, her eyes glistening. For six years, she had survived in the dark, believing she was despised by the only man she had ever loved. Now, the truth was out in the blinding light.
The media room door creaked open.
Leo peeked out first, followed by Toby. They crept into the room like little detectives, looking at their mother’s tear-stained face, then at me.
"Is the mean lady gone?" Leo asked quietly.
Rosalind sniffled, offering them a radiant, trembling smile. "Yes, sweetie. She's gone."
Toby ran forward, throwing his little arms around Rosalind’s neck. Leo walked up to me. He stood beside my chair, his dark eyes solemn, assessing me.
"Did you make her leave?" Leo asked.
"I did," I answered honestly.
Leo looked at the notch in my eyebrow. Then, with the unprompted bravery of a little boy who had spent his life being his mother's protector, he reached out his small hand and rested it on my knee.
"Good," Leo said simply. "Mommy was scared."
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I picked him up, swinging him into my lap. He didn't pull away. He leaned against my chest, his little head resting right against my heart. For the first time in six years, the hollow space inside my ribs felt completely, undeniably full.
***
