Chapter 9 - The Reckoning
Two months later, winter had settled over Washington.
At eight months pregnant, I moved around the cottage with slow, deliberate grace. The nursery was fully prepared—two cribs made of hand-carved cedar set near the south-facing window, painted in soft tones of cream and pale green.
A single visitor was permitted through the outer security gate that afternoon.
Adrian Vane looked like a shadow of the man who had once stood on the stage in Singapore. He wore a heavy, plain navy coat over a dark sweater. His hair was streaked with gray at the temples, his posture stooped, his face pale and worn.
He was out on bail, awaiting his trial in federal court scheduled for early spring. Under the conditions of his bond, he was permitted one supervised visitation visit arranged through my legal team before his travel restrictions took effect.
Marcus Vance stood near the front gate, remaining in the car while Adrian walked up the wooden porch steps alone.
I opened the door, wearing a heavy wool wrap over my swollen frame. I didn't invite him inside. We stood on the sheltered porch, separated by three feet of cedar deck.
Adrian looked at me, his eyes dropping to my stomach. He choked back a small, painful breath, covering his mouth with a gloved hand for a moment before looking back at my eyes.
“They’re so big,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.
“They’re healthy,” I said simply. “Dr. Vance says they’ll be here in four weeks.”
“Evelyn...” he stepped forward slightly, but stopped himself when he saw my neutral expression. “I don't even know where to begin. I lost everything. The board took my name off the lobby floor. Celeste won't take my calls. My lawyers are telling me I’m looking at thirty to thirty-six months in federal custody.”
“You didn't lose everything, Adrian,” I corrected him gently, without anger or bitterness. “You threw everything away. You thought people were disposable assets you could swap out when your stock price went up.”
“I was stupid,” he choked out, tears finally spilling over his cold cheeks. “I thought I was invincible. I thought... I thought success meant being on those covers. But every night in that hotel room, all I see is the look on your face when I told you that you weren't meant for my world.”
“I wasn't meant for your world, Adrian,” I said, looking out at the gray horizon of the ocean. “Your world was fake. It was built on stolen code, forged names, and cheap press releases. I belong to a world that actually builds things.”
He pulled a small velvet box from his coat pocket, his hands shaking violently as he held it out toward me.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It was my mother’s ring,” he stammered. “The one you loved... the antique sapphire. I had security retrieve it from the Greenwich penthouse before the bank seized the lease. I don't want the money. I just... I want the girls to have it one day. So they know that their father once loved their mother, even if he was too blind to realize it.”
I looked at the box, then looked into his desperate, broken eyes.
“I’ll put it in their trust safe,” I said, taking the small box from his trembling hand. “They will know who you were, Adrian. But they will also know who saved them.”
He nodded slowly, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Can I... can I touch your stomach? Just once? Before I go?”
I hesitated for a moment. Then, looking down at the clear, undeniable life blooming inside me, I took a small step forward and nodded.
Adrian reached out a trembling hand, placing his palm gently against the curve of my sweater.
At that exact moment, one of the twins kicked hard, a powerful, sharp press right beneath his palm. Adrian let out a sob, pulling his hand back as if burned, covering his face with both hands as he bent over on the cold porch.
May you like
“Good luck with your trial, Adrian,” I said softly.
I turned, walked inside, and locked the cedar door behind me.
