Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF COMING HOME
Their daughter arrived at 11:06 that night.
Five pounds, one ounce.
A furious cry.
Ten fingers.
Ten toes.
Dark hair plastered against a tiny head.
Stefan cried before Elara did.
Not gracefully.
Not discreetly.
He stood beside the operating table with his forehead against Elara's hand and tears falling silently onto the hospital blanket.
Elara watched him.
It would have been easier if he were a monster.
Monsters were simple.
Stefan had never been simple.
He could betray her and build an escape route for her.
Forget dinner and memorize every medication she took.
Break her heart and then tremble at the sound of their daughter crying.
"What's her name?" the nurse asked.
They had discussed names months ago.
Nothing had been decided.
Stefan looked at Elara.
"Your choice."
Once, he would have argued.
Elara looked toward the tiny baby being examined.
"Maeve."
Stefan smiled through tears.
"Maeve Voss."
"Maeve Arden Voss."
Arden was Elara's mother's maiden name.
A piece of the child that belonged to somewhere beyond Stefan.
He understood.
"Maeve Arden Voss," he repeated.
The baby needed neonatal observation.
Elara needed rest.
Stefan slept in a chair outside her room because she did not invite him inside.
The next morning, she found him there.
Black shirt wrinkled.
Jaw shadowed.
Head against the wall.
For the first time since she had known him, Stefan looked powerless.
She felt tenderness.
Then remembered Camille.
Both emotions existed.
That was the cruel part.
Stefan woke.
"How do you feel?"
"Like someone removed a person from my body."
He almost smiled.
"Accurate."
"Maeve?"
"Stable. Oxygen support is minimal. Doctor says she's stubborn."
"Wonder where she got that."
"Hopefully you."
The warmth between them disappeared as quickly as it came.
Stefan stood.
"I rented a house nearby."
"You already own one."
"I'm not staying there unless you ask."
Elara studied him.
"Who are you?"
"A slow learner."
That almost earned him another smile.
Almost.
His phone rang.
He silenced it.
Again.
Silenced.
"Answer it."
"No."
"It might be important."
"Nothing in my phone is more important than this room."
Elara's eyes hardened.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Don't become the perfect husband after destroying the marriage. It feels manipulative."
The words hit him.
He nodded.
"Fair."
His phone rang a third time.
This time the screen showed Lucian.
Elara saw it.
"Answer."
Stefan did.
Lucian spoke rapidly.
Stefan's expression changed.
"When?"
He listened.
"Lock down Toronto. No retaliation."
Another pause.
"No, Lucian. That's an order."
He ended the call.
"What happened?"
"Armon hit one of our warehouses."
"Anyone hurt?"
"Two guards. Both alive."
"Because of the records?"
"Probably."
Elara looked toward the window.
"I copied them."
"I assumed."
"Three copies."
Stefan said nothing.
"One with an attorney. One in a secure deposit box. One somewhere neither you nor Lucian knows."
"Good."
She looked sharply at him.
"You aren't angry?"
"I'm terrified."
"Of me?"
"For you."
She almost laughed.
"That's rich."
"I know."
Stefan pulled the chair closer but did not sit until she gestured.
"Armon knows enough about Northglass to know where you might be."
"Then why am I still here?"
"Because I redirected every trace of you before I came."
"You did what?"
"I made it appear you were moved to Boston."
Elara's expression chilled.
"Without asking."
Stefan closed his eyes briefly.
"You're right."
"What?"
"You're right."
She stared.
"I should have asked."
He took out his phone.
"I can reverse it."
She watched him struggle against the instinct to control.
For some reason, that mattered.
"Leave it."
He looked up.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Elara leaned back.
"What exactly is in those accounts?"
Stefan was silent.
"No more protecting me."
"I wasn't protecting you."
"What were you doing?"
"Protecting myself from the way you'd look at me."
That answer surprised her.
He continued.
"When I started Voss Atlantic, I moved cargo for people I shouldn't have. Cash. Untaxed goods. Nothing I was proud of."
"Drugs?"
"No."
"Weapons?"
"Once. I stopped after I learned where they were going."
Elara absorbed that.
"Armon?"
"He financed the expansion. By the time I understood the leverage he'd built, leaving him meant destroying the company and possibly getting people killed."
"So you stayed."
"Yes."
"And Camille?"
His face changed.
"No excuse."
"Try."
"I was tired. Angry. Arrogant."
"At me?"
"At myself."
She waited.
"I spent years building a life I thought would make you safe. Then every time I came home, I could feel how absent I'd become."
"So you solved that by becoming more absent."
"Yes."
The blunt answer hurt.
"Camille looked at me like I was exactly who I pretended to be outside our house."
"And I didn't."
"You knew better."
Elara turned away.
Stefan's voice lowered.
"That's not your failure."
"No. It isn't."
"I loved being admired more than I respected being known."
There it was.
Not justification.
Truth.
Elara looked back.
"I don't know if I can forgive you."
"I know."
"I might divorce you."
"I know."
"You'll still give me access to Maeve's security?"
"Everything."
"And the Northglass trust?"
"Already irrevocably yours."
She blinked.
"When did you do that?"
"Four years ago."
"Why?"
"Because I knew one day you might need enough power to tell me no."
Elara's eyes filled despite herself.
"You're an infuriating man."
"I've been told."
"Mostly by me."
"Mostly by you."
A nurse entered.
"Mrs. Voss? Maeve is awake."
Elara immediately tried to stand.
Stefan rose too.
Then stopped.
He waited.
She noticed.
"Come."
One word.
His face changed.
They walked together toward neonatal care.
Halfway down the corridor, Stefan's phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
He opened it.
A photograph filled the screen.
Elara leaving the hospital room ten minutes earlier.
Taken from somewhere inside the building.
Beneath it:
THE LEDGERS. MIDNIGHT TOMORROW.
OR NEXT TIME THE CAMERA IS CLOSER.
Stefan stopped walking.
Elara looked at him.
"What?"
He showed her.
She stared at the photograph.
Then something unexpected happened.
Elara did not panic.
She smiled.
Stefan knew that smile.
He had seen it across negotiating tables.
Usually immediately before someone realized they had underestimated his wife.
"Good," she said.
"Good?"
"Armon wants the ledgers."
"Yes."
"Then for the first time, we know exactly what he needs."
May you like
Her eyes lifted to Stefan's.
"And that means he can be made to come to us."
