Chapter 2
Julian’s question filled the silent lobby. Ruby looked from him to me, waiting for an answer.
I crossed the space between us and took her hand.
"Ruby, go upstairs with Mrs. Alvarez."
"But is he—"
"We’ll talk later."
She heard the fear in my voice and tightened her fingers around mine. When Julian stepped toward us, she immediately hid behind me.
The movement stopped him. Pain crossed his face before he hid it.
"I’m not going to hurt her," he said.
"You don’t get to make promises to her yet."
I asked Mrs. Alvarez to take Ruby upstairs. Ruby kept looking back as she climbed the stairs, still holding the old photograph.
"Office," I said.
Julian followed me behind the front desk. Claire started to come with him, but I stopped her.
"This is private."
Julian told her to wait outside, then closed the office door behind us. The room suddenly felt too small.
"How old?" he asked again.
"Five."
He stared at me as he counted backward—the hotel conference, the snowstorm, the night we spent together.
"Is she mine?"
"Yes. Ruby is your daughter."
Julian turned away and pressed one hand against the edge of my desk. When he faced me again, the shock in his eyes had become anger.
"You hid my daughter from me for five years."
"I didn’t hide her."
"You had my child and never told me."
"I did tell you."
"No, you didn’t."
Then I walked to the locked cabinet behind my desk. Inside was a metal box containing Ruby’s birth certificate, my mother’s will, and the documents I had hoped never to see again.
I placed a cream-colored envelope on the desk.
Julian looked at it but didn’t touch it.
"What is that?"
"Your answer."
"I never answered you."
"I wrote to you three weeks after Manhattan. I told you I was pregnant. Two days later, a lawyer came to my apartment with that letter, a confidentiality agreement, and a check."
"What check?"
"The one you thought would make us disappear."
His face went still.
"Did you cash it?"
"I sent it back."
I opened the envelope and pushed the letter toward him. The paper was still smooth because I had stopped reading it years ago.
Julian finally picked it up.
His eyes moved across the page.
Mr. Cross does not accept responsibility for your condition.
Any further attempt to contact him will be treated as harassment.
The enclosed payment is offered on the condition that you maintain complete confidentiality.
Julian read the letter twice. By the time he finished, the color had left his face.
"You expect me to believe you never saw it?" I asked.
"I didn’t."
"Your name is at the bottom."
"I can see that."
"Your lawyer brought it to my home."
"I don’t know who went to your home."
A bitter laugh escaped me.
"Of course you don’t. Men like you don’t have to look at the women they pay to disappear."
"I did not pay you."
"You tried."
His hand tightened around the letter.
"Why did you keep this?"
"So when Ruby asked why her father didn’t want her, I would remember that I hadn’t imagined it."
The anger left his face.
For one moment, Julian looked wounded.
Then I remembered the empty chair beside my hospital bed.
"You don’t get to walk into her life now and accuse me of stealing five years from you."
"You should have tried again."
"I shouldn’t have needed to."
Julian looked down at the letter again, studying the signature at the bottom.
Julian Cross.
He touched the ink with his thumb, then slowly raised his eyes to mine.
"This looks exactly like my signature," he said.
Julian’s voice dropped.
"But I never signed it."