cheerfully.
She handed me a plastic block.
I took it.
“Your dad found us.”
She had no idea what that meant.
Good.
She did not need to.
Not yet.
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
This time Alessandro.
The operations team needs approval on the lobby vendor change. Why are there six spreadsheets?
I laughed.
Work.
Ordinary.
I replied:
Because people keep asking for seven versions of the same answer.
He responded:
Come upstairs tomorrow. We’ll fix it.
I typed:
No. The team will fix it.
Three dots appeared.
Then:
Right. I’m adjusting.
I smiled.
But the next morning, before any vendor meeting, my attorney called again.
The paternity test had not even been scheduled yet.
Something else had happened.
David’s lawyer had delivered an old envelope to the escrow office.
Sealed.
Dated before Mia’s birth.
On the front:
FOR ELENA — ONLY IF I EVER BECOME BRAVE ENOUGH TO COME BACK.
