CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Laurel
The mansion looked unchanged when Nadine's car stopped outside it.
Laurel had expected some visible acknowledgment of what happened there. A damaged railing. An open window. Evidence that the building understood it had nearly become the place where she died.
The stone exterior remained immaculate.
Nadine turned off the engine. “Graham has agreed not to enter the property while you are here. His attorneys confirmed it in writing.”
“Where is he staying?”
“That is no longer information you need to organize your life around.”
Evelyn sat in the back beside Laurel. Dana had driven ahead to meet Rosa and make certain the bedroom was ready.
“We can go somewhere else,” Evelyn offered. “My apartment has an elevator and no memories of my son.”
“I need my things.”
“Your things can be brought to you.”
Laurel looked at the entrance. “I need to do this myself.”
Nadine came around to help her out of the car. Laurel accepted her arm without pretending she could manage alone. Surgery had left every movement attached to pain. Walking from the hospital bed to the bathroom had exhausted her. The front steps looked taller than she remembered.
Dana opened the entrance before they reached it.
“You took long enough.”
“Nadine obeyed the speed limit,” Laurel replied.
“A disturbing quality in a New York attorney.”
Nadine adjusted her grip. “I bill for traffic.”
Dana almost smiled. The attempt was enough.
Inside, the mansion smelled of furniture polish and lilies. Someone had filled the foyer with arrangements sent by board members, politicians, employees, and people Laurel had never met. Cards offered sympathy for “the family's loss” as though Graham and Laurel remained a unit.
Laurel passed the flowers without reading them.
Near the staircase, the pale carpet had been professionally cleaned. Most of the blood was gone, but several steps carried faint brown shadows where the fibers had absorbed too much.
Laurel stopped.
She knew the location of every mark.
One near the upper landing where she paused to call Samuel's name. Three along the center where blood ran down her leg. A larger stain on the step where her foot slipped.
Evelyn moved in front of her, blocking the staircase. “You do not have to go up today.”
“My room is upstairs.”
“We can bring down whatever you need.”
Laurel looked at the cleaned carpet. “I left a suitcase beside the bedroom.”
Dana's expression shifted. She had already found it.
“It's still there.”
“I packed it before I went to sleep.”
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Laurel placed one foot on the first step. Nadine remained beside her while Dana climbed one step ahead, prepared to catch her if necessary.
They moved slowly.
By the time Laurel reached the upper floor, perspiration dampened the back of her blouse. Dana guided her into the bedroom and helped her sit.
The suitcase waited exactly where Laurel had left it. Her grandmother's earrings and Bellweather notebook were inside.
Across the corridor, the nursery door stood open.
Laurel could see one edge of the crib.
She turned away.
“I can have everything packed,” Evelyn offered. “You can decide what to keep later.”
“If strangers empty that room, Samuel will become another task the household completed while I was gone.”
“No one will enter without your permission.”
“I need to do it.”
Dana brought a chair into the nursery and placed it near the entrance. Laurel remained outside until the pain in her abdomen eased enough for her to stand again.
The room had been painted the deep blue Evelyn selected. White shelves held books, folded blankets, and wooden animals Graham ordered from Denmark. The crib remained unfinished because Graham insisted on assembling it himself.
One side rail rested against the wall.
Laurel sat in the chair.
A knitted yellow hat lay on the changing table. Evelyn had bought it after hearing the argument about Clementine and Scout at the fertility clinic. She never explained how she learned the story.
Laurel picked it up.
“He would have worn this home.”
Evelyn knelt beside her. “Yes.”
“He was too small for it.”
“We could fold it into the memory box.”
Laurel nodded.
They chose slowly.
The yellow hat. The blue blanket Evelyn purchased before Samuel's delivery. A book Dana had mailed without signing her name. One wooden elephant from the shelf. The ultrasound recording remained on Laurel's phone, but Dana transferred a copy to a separate drive.
Graham's pregnancy books stayed where they were.
So did the paint samples, the expensive monitor, and the unfinished crib.
Laurel placed the selected items inside a larger box with Samuel's photographs, footprints, bracelet, and lock of hair. She had looked at every photograph with Dana in the hospital. Samuel had Graham's mouth and a small crease beneath his lower lip.
“He was beautiful,” Dana murmured.
Laurel touched the lid. “He was.”
When they finished, Nadine carried the box into the bedroom. No one asked Laurel to return to the nursery.
Dinner was served in the small family room because Laurel could not tolerate the formal dining table. Rosa prepared soup and bread, then stood over Laurel until she ate enough to satisfy her.
Evelyn remained after Dana went upstairs to finish packing.
She turned her spoon through the soup without drinking it.
“I need to tell you something before I leave.”
Laurel waited.
“I will not ask you to protect Graham. I will not ask you to reduce what you claim in the divorce, forgive him, or remember that he is grieving too.”
Evelyn's voice strained on the final words, but she continued.
“He is my son. I love him because I do not know how to stop being his mother. That love does not require me to pretend he deserves access to you.”
Laurel looked at the woman who had attended appointments when Graham refused, argued when he stayed away, and wrapped Samuel after his death.
“I love you.”
Evelyn reached across the table and covered Laurel's hand.
“But when I look at you, sometimes I see the only person who stood beside me. Other times I see his mother, and I remember that he was with Taryn while I was bleeding.”
Pain moved across Evelyn's face.
“I understand.”
“I may need distance.”
“You may need all of it.”
“I can't promise what our relationship will be.”
“I am not asking you to.”
Evelyn lifted Laurel's hand and kissed her fingers. “Whatever you decide later, you will always be my daughter. You do not have to remain close enough to comfort me.”
She stood before Laurel could answer and kissed her forehead. At the entrance, Evelyn embraced Dana, thanked Nadine, and left without asking when she would be permitted to return.
Laurel listened until her car moved beyond the gates.
Nadine reopened her legal case file at the family room table.
“We can delay this discussion.”
“No.”
“You were discharged four hours ago.”
“If I wait until I feel prepared, Graham will have time to move everything.”
Nadine removed her glasses. “His attorneys have received formal preservation notices. Moving or concealing assets now would expose him to sanctions.”
She reviewed the immediate legal position.
The lack of a prenup did not automatically guarantee half the company, but Laurel's inheritance, unpaid labor, early financial work, and marital contributions created substantial claims. The investigation into company spending could also reveal whether Graham used marital or corporate funds for Taryn.
“What do you want me to request?” Nadine asked.
At their first meeting, Laurel had wanted a quiet exit. Enough money for an apartment. Protection from public embarrassment. Permission to disappear from a company partly built with her life.
Now Samuel's box rested upstairs beside the suitcase she had packed twice.
“I want every share, property, account, and payment that legally belongs to me. I want my contribution to Weller Systems entered into the record, even if Graham settles before trial.”
Nadine wrote without reacting. “And the mansion?”
Laurel looked toward the staircase.
“Prepare it for sale.”
Nadine added the instruction to the page.