Chapter 2
The chandeliers didn't dim. That was the worst part. The light stayed warm and bright and diffused over everything while none of us moved.
Roman hadn't raised his voice. He'd said it low and even. I've sent 50,000 every month. Tell me where it went. And Helena's face had done something I hadn't seen before. For a second her composure cracked completely around that reddish-purple mark on her left cheek, her eyes wide and wet and shocked, her mouth open with no sound coming out. A few tables over, a woman in a navy dress lifted her phone half an inch and then thought better of it. The string quartet kept playing but I could tell the players were watching us.
Then Helena breathed. I saw the inhale catch in her throat and her shoulders pull back. She touched her pearl necklace like she was steadying it, not her cheek.
She leaned toward Roman just enough that only the three of us could hear, her smile snapping back on for the room. Her voice was a whisper, fast and controlled.
"Not here," she said. "Roman, don't do this here. You're upsetting Sophie. We'll speak in the morning, I promise. Please."
It wasn't an answer. It was a delay. She turned her head a fraction toward the nearest round table and lifted her hand in a small, graceful wave, as if to tell them everything was fine, a family moment, nothing to stare at. Two men in suits who had been standing near the columns took a step back, glad to look away. A server froze with a tray of glasses and then kept walking.
Sophie was still pressed against my side, her fingers twisted tight in the bottom of my olive shirt. Her cardigan had ridden up and her light shirt underneath was damp where she'd been crying. She was shaking. Everyone was looking at her and she didn't understand why her grandma was suddenly the one who looked hurt.
I couldn't let her stand in the middle of that checkered marble any longer.
I bent a little, just enough to get my mouth near her ear, and kept my hand flat on her back.
"Hey, baby, come with me," I said quietly. "We're gonna step over there, okay? Just you and me."
She nodded against my ribs and didn't let go. I started to walk, steering her toward the tall columns that lined the edge of the ballroom, where the light was softer and the air wasn't full of eyes. My legs felt strange on that polished floor, like I might slip. I kept my arm around her and I didn't look back at first because I knew if I looked at Roman or Helena I would freeze again.
I heard Helena's voice behind us, louder now, smoothed out for the crowd. "Excuse us, everyone. My son-in-law has been traveling. So much emotion. Please, enjoy your dinner." A little laugh, practiced. Chairs scraped. Someone coughed. The quartet played a little louder.
We made it to the second column. Past it, the ballroom opened into a hallway that led toward the restrooms and the coat check. It was quieter there. The carpet was dark and thick and swallowed sound. A brass sconce threw a warm pool of light on the wall, not as bright as the chandeliers. The air smelled like clean linen and faint perfume instead of floral centerpieces and wine.
I crouched down and pulled Sophie in front of me, both hands on her small shoulders, trying to block the view of the tables with my back.
"You okay?" I whispered. "You're okay. I've got you."
She wiped her face with the heel of her palm and left a streak. "Is Daddy gonna leave again?" she asked, her voice thin and cracking.
I swallowed. I could hear footsteps behind us, slow and deliberate on the marble, then muffled when they hit the carpet. I didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Roman had not stayed with Helena.
He stopped a few feet away, near the column, hands at his sides. His dark suit looked almost black in the hallway shadow, his pocket square a sharp white line. The tattoos on his neck stood out when he turned his head to check that Helena hadn't followed. He wasn't looking at the ballroom anymore. He was looking at Sophie's back and then at me.
"I didn't come to make a scene," he said, his voice low. He took another half step closer but didn't crowd us. "I wasn't going to do it in front of everyone. But she —"
He stopped himself. His jaw tightened and then he breathed out slowly.
I looked up at him. Up close I could see how hard he was working to keep still, his hands loose though his knuckles were pale.
"You followed us," I said. It wasn't an accusation. It was just the fact of it.
He nodded once. "Yeah. I'm not doing that out there with her. Not with Sophie watching."
Behind the column, I could see Helena still on the ballroom floor. She hadn't come after us. She was standing by the white-linen table, one hand on the back of a chair, talking to the couple in navy and gray, nodding, smiling with her mouth while her eyes kept flicking toward the hallway where we'd gone. A woman reached out and touched her arm in sympathy. Helena let her.
The distance between us was maybe twenty feet, but it felt like two different rooms. Out there the gala was resetting itself, glasses clinking again. In here the hallway was quiet enough I could hear Sophie's breathing and the faint hum of the air conditioning.
Roman crouched too, not too close, keeping his weight on his heels, his forearms resting on his knees. He didn't reach for Sophie. He waited.
"Sophie," he said softly, "do you remember me a little?"
She turned her face just enough to look at him over my shoulder, still holding my shirt. Her eyes were red.
May you like
Roman didn't push. He just held her gaze and let the pause sit there.
I stayed between them, one arm around Sophie, the other hand braced on the floor for balance, understanding that whatever was about to happen next wouldn't happen under those chandeliers. It would happen here, in this narrower light, where no one was performing for the tables.
