Chapter 10
Peter Grant was still waiting for an answer.
“Don’t print Mia’s medical history,” I said. “It has nothing to do with the company.”
“I understand. I’m trying to verify what’s in the file.”
“Then verify who had the right to give it to you.”
I ended the call before he could ask another question. My hands were shaking. Across the suite, Daniel had stopped reading the papers on the table; Lena’s face had gone still.
“What did he say?” Daniel asked.
“That the detail came in a file with the old complaint. He didn’t tell me who sent it.”
A burst of laughter came from the adjoining room. Mia’s, bright and unsuspecting. I looked toward the open doorway and felt the fear sharpen into something more useful.
“We’re leaving,” I said.
Daniel nodded, then caught himself before he could move. “Would it help if I asked security to find somewhere quieter?”
“I’ll choose where we go. You can ask them to keep people away from the girls.”
“I’ll do that.”
Amanda found us a small rental a few blocks from the hotel, tucked behind a row of spruce trees. It had a narrow porch, a kitchen that smelled faintly of lemon cleaner, and windows that looked onto a gravel lane instead of the crowded hotel drive. I chose the room at the back for Betty and Mia. They carried their white roses in a water glass and argued softly over which of them had bent a stem.
Daniel stayed at the hotel while his security team arranged a discreet route. He called before sending anyone to the rental.
“Is it all right if two people come by and stay near the lane?” he asked. “They won’t approach the girls or come inside. If you’d rather not, I’ll make another plan.”
I looked out the window. The empty lane seemed peaceful, but peace had become difficult to trust.
“Have them stay out of sight,” I said. “And nobody takes pictures of my daughters.”
“I’ll make that clear.”
His team had barely arrived when a car rolled slowly past the rental. A camera flashed through the passenger window.
Betty saw it.
She dropped the newspaper she’d been holding. Someone had left it folded on the porch, and the headline sprawled across the page in black letters: HARDEN HEIR’S SECRET TWINS AT CENTER OF OLD THEFT SCANDAL.
The article named Betty and Mia. Beneath the headline was a photograph from the wedding, taken from far enough away that their faces were blurred—but not blurred enough for me to pretend no one would recognize them. The piece repeated Eleanor’s claim that I had stolen company information and suggested I’d brought the girls to Aspen to force Daniel into supporting us. Mia’s NICU stay appeared in a paragraph like a detail anyone was entitled to know.
Betty stared at the page. “They make it sound like we did something.”
I crossed the room and crouched beside her. “You didn’t.”
“Are people going to think we ruined the wedding?”
The question landed harder than the headline. I took the paper from her, folded it, and set it on the counter.
“The wedding stopped because the adults needed to tell the truth,” I said. “You and Mia didn’t cause that. You’re not responsible for what happened between Daniel and me, or for anything Eleanor is saying about the company.”
Mia came into the room, the glass of roses held carefully in both hands. “Why did they write about when I was a baby?”
“Someone shared private information about you without asking me,” I said. “That was wrong. It doesn’t mean you did anything wrong, and it doesn’t change who you are.”
“Can they write more?”
“I don’t know,” I said. I wanted to give her certainty. She deserved honesty more. “I’ll do everything I can to protect your privacy, and you can tell me if you feel scared or angry.”
Mia put the roses down on the table. One stem slipped, and Betty caught the glass before it tipped.
A knock sounded at the front door. I stiffened, but Daniel called from the porch before anyone could open it.
“It’s me. Is now still okay?”
I checked the girls’ faces. Betty gave a small nod. Mia didn’t, exactly, but she moved beside her sister and stayed there.
I opened the door. Daniel entered alone, his phone in his hand and worry drawn tight around his mouth. His gaze went first to the twins, then to the folded newspaper.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You didn’t write it,” Betty answered.
“No. But I know the people who let it happen, and I should have stopped them sooner.”
“Can you make them stop now?” Mia asked.
Daniel glanced at me. He didn’t answer for me.
“I can try,” he said. “But I can’t promise what other people will do. I can promise I won’t share your private information, and I’ll listen to what you and your mom want.”
Before Mia could reply, his phone began vibrating. He looked at the screen, and the tension in his face changed.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Mother’s office released a statement.” He read for a moment, then lowered the phone. “She’s telling the board I’m unfit to lead Harden Systems. She says the scandal proves I can’t separate personal matters from the company.”
“Is that why she leaked the file?” Betty asked.
“I don’t know,” Daniel said. “But she’s using it now.”
His phone buzzed again. Another call. He silenced it without looking away from the girls.
May you like
Mia stepped closer to him, her hands clasped in front of her dress. For the first time since the headline appeared, she looked less afraid of the photographer outside than of the answer she was about to hear.
“Daniel,” she said, “if the company takes everything from you, will you still want us?”
