Chương 6
Anna closed her eyes.
“How long?”
“I knew Margaret had a child.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“No.”
“How long did you know Nathan was my father?”
“I suspected it when you were born.”
“Susspected.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That it was none of my business.”
Anna stared at the grout line between two white tiles.
Claire continued quietly.
“I accepted that answer.”
“Why?”
“Because I was thirty-seven, my marriage was falling apart, my mother was dying, and Nathan had spent our entire lives making everybody else’s problems feel smaller than his temper.”
“That’s an explanation.”
“Yes.”
“Not a good one.”
“No.”
Anna put her free hand over her mouth.
Claire waited.
“What was my mother to him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was she his employee? His girlfriend? Did he force her into something?”
“I don’t know.”
“You knew enough to call me.”
“I knew enough to recognize her face.”
Anna felt something hot rise through her chest.
“Twenty-seven years.”
“Yes.”
“You had twenty-seven years.”
“Yes.”
“You’re a doctor.”
“Yes.”
“You spend your life taking care of children.”
Claire did not answer.
That silence was the first thing Anna believed about her.
“I’m going to hang up now.”
“I understand.”
“Don’t call me again.”
“All right.”
Anna ended the call.
She sat in the bathroom until Priya knocked.
“Anna?”
“I’m fine.”
“That phrase has been legally revoked.”
Anna opened the door.
Priya took one look at her face.
“Who?”
“His aunt.”
“What did she say?”
“She knew my mother.”
Priya sat beside her on the edge of the bathtub.
Anna told her.
Not gracefully.
She stopped twice. Forgot what year Claire had said. Repeated the part about Nathan paying Margaret to leave.
When she finished, Priya said nothing.
Anna leaned her head against the wall.
“I kept thinking Mom hid him from me.”
“Maybe she did.”
“I thought she was ashamed.”
“She might have been.”
“I was angry at her.”
“You were allowed.”
“I was horrible to her.”
“You were twenty-four.”
“I told her she was controlling.”
“You’ve told me I chew too loudly.”
“You do.”
“Correct. And yet I remain.”
Anna laughed once.
Then cried.
Not loudly.
She pressed both palms to her eyes and breathed through it while Priya sat next to her.
Nothing improved.
The room remained beige.
Traffic continued outside.
A housekeeper knocked once and apologized when Priya shouted that they did not need towels.
Ten minutes later, Anna wiped her face and said, “I need a lawyer.”
Priya nodded.
That decision changed everything.
Elena gave her three names.
Anna rejected two because their websites described cases as wars.
She chose Maya Brooks, a civil attorney in Manhattan whose online biography contained no photographs of gavels.
Maya arrived at the Brooklyn hotel that evening in black trousers, flat shoes, and a raincoat with one broken button.
She was forty-five, compact, and unimpressed by wealth.
Her first question was not about the DNA report.
“Do you want Victoria prosecuted?”
Anna blinked.
“I don’t decide that.”
“No. But the prosecutor may care whether you cooperate. Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Second question. Do you want money from Alexander Hale?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good.”
Anna frowned.
“That’s good?”
“Uncertainty is honest. People get into trouble when they decide what they’re supposed to want before they know what actually happened.”
Maya opened a yellow legal pad.
“Third question. Do you want the world to know who your father was?”
Anna looked at Priya.
Priya suddenly became deeply interested in adjusting the blinds.
“I think they already do.”
“They suspect.”
“There are photos everywhere.”
“Photos are not proof.”
“The lab report—”
“May be genuine. May be incomplete. May be challenged. It establishes biological paternity if authentic. It does not tell us what agreements existed, whether your mother received money, whether your father acknowledged you elsewhere, what his estate documents say, or what legal claims remain available after this much time.”
Anna nodded slowly.
Maya continued.
“And it definitely does not automatically make you ‘the real heir,’ whatever Mr. Hale shouted in that ballroom.”
Something inside Anna relaxed.
“Thank you.”
“For disappointing you?”
“For saying it.”
“He may have meant it emotionally. He may have meant something specific. Or he may have been furious and dramatic.”
“Alexander Hale?”
“I have met rich men before.”
Priya covered a laugh with a cough.
Maya drew a line down the middle of her pad.
“Your assault case and your paternity issue are separate. Do not let the Hales combine them.”
“Victoria already did.”
“She tried.”
“What do you mean?”
“She wanted your identity claim to become a motive for violence. If everyone argues about whether you are a fortune hunter, people stop looking at the fact that she hit an employee with a riding crop.”
Anna looked down.
Maya’s voice softened.
“You do not have to prove you are Nathan Hale’s daughter to deserve not to be assaulted.”
Anna swallowed.
It was obvious.
She had still needed someone to say it.
Maya spent two hours building walls between the problems.
Criminal case.
Employment.
Medical expenses.
Privacy.
Paternity.
Estate.
Defamation.
Public statements.
Anna’s head hurt by the end.
“There is one more thing,” Maya said.
“What?”
“Your employment status.”
“I’m scheduled Monday.”
“No, you’re not.”
Anna stared.
“Did they fire me?”
“I called the hotel’s counsel before I came here. They’ve placed you on paid leave.”
“Who told them they could do that?”
Maya smiled faintly.
“Most employees would enjoy this news.”
“I don’t want them deciding when I can work.”
“Then we tell them.”
“I need my paycheck.”
“Paid leave means paycheck.”
“I know what it means.”
“Then what bothers you?”
Anna stood and walked to the window.
Below, someone was trying to parallel park a delivery van.
“I don’t want to owe them.”
Maya capped her pen.
“You are going to have to separate receiving what you are entitled to from owing gratitude.”
Anna looked over her shoulder.
“That sounds like therapy.”
“I bill more.”
Priya laughed.
May you like
Anna did too.
The next morning, Alexander called Maya.
