36. Erik
ERIK
Three days after the hospital releases Rowan, Liya arrives at the estate with two binders and a permanent oversight agreement the Blackthorne board managed to make ninety-six pages long.
Rowan sits on the library sofa with her right wrist braced and both feet tucked beneath a blanket.
Serena cleared her for ordinary walking, short showers, stairs taken slowly, and almost nothing else Rowan considers useful.
The bruising along her neck has started fading at the edges, while the abrasions on both wrists no longer need dressings.
She still moves carefully when she reaches for the tea on the table, which means her ribs hurt more than she admits.
I've managed three days without pointing that out every time.
Liya puts the first binder on the coffee table. "The investigation accounts are frozen, the outside prosecutor has direct access, and the independent oversight is permanent."
Rowan opens the binder with her left hand and checks the first page. "Does permanent mean it stays after the prosecution closes too?"
"Yes. It stays after the prosecution closes too."
"The board wanted its own version." Liya points to the financial terms before taking her coffee from the side table. "Their version costs more."
Rowan reads another paragraph and looks pleased. "I approve."
Liya laughs. "You're enjoying this."
"I'm a law student. Ninety-six pages of expensive consequences is recreational reading." Rowan turns one more page, then closes the binder before the temptation to read all of it wins.
The front door opens before Liya can answer. Peter comes into the library without waiting for staff, carrying no files for once, and takes the chair across from us.
"Orell's remaining crews are finished." He removes his coat and drapes it over the chair arm. "Four surrendered through counsel. Three contacted Makari. The rest abandoned their equipment and left the region."
I watch him settle back. "Did anyone resist?"
"Not enough to matter. Orell's accounts are frozen, his managers know Rahil is talking, and there's nothing left to fight for."
Rowan closes Liya's binder completely and studies Peter. "Do you approve of Erik dismantling the old structure now?"
Peter takes enough time with the answer that I stop expecting one. He finally smooths one cuff and looks at Rowan. "I thought changing the family would destroy it. Orell destroyed his by refusing to change anything except the paperwork around it."
Then Peter turns to me. "Your father would've called what you've done weakness."
"I know he would."
Peter holds my attention without softening the statement. "He would've been wrong."
There isn't anything useful to add. I nod, and Peter accepts that before either of us can ruin the moment by discussing my father further.
Makari arrives five minutes later with his left hand immobilized against his abdomen. Harper follows him carrying a grocery bag and starts unloading food onto the side table before anyone asks why she brought it.
Makari stops beside Liya's chair. "Rahil signed the cooperation agreement. He gave the prosecutor the financial structure and the people who kept it running."
Rowan shifts toward him, moving carefully around her injured side. "Does he regret any of it?"
"He doesn't." Makari adjusts the strap holding his injured hand. "He wants the sentence reduction. That's the entire bargain."
Rowan looks disappointed, although she probably expected nothing better. Harper interrupts the thought by putting a container of soup in front of her.
"Serena said crackers don't count as lunch."
"I had soup yesterday." Rowan looks suspiciously at the container without opening it.
"You had four spoonfuls." Harper takes the empty grocery bag to the side table and returns with crackers. "Today we're attempting food in quantities that can be measured without embarrassment."
Rowan looks toward Makari. "Did you recruit her?"
He glances at Harper, who is now opening the soup whether Rowan likes it or not. "I don't control her."
Harper points the spoon toward him. "That may be the smartest thing you've said all week."
Makari doesn't respond, but he stays beside her instead of returning to the hall. That answers several questions I haven't asked and don't intend to.
Liya gathers the oversight documents. "The prosecutor wants everyone available tomorrow. Richard is releasing the old board archives, and outside counsel will handle the transfers."
Peter gets up with a reluctant look toward his abandoned coffee.
He leaves with Liya after making me promise to review one final shipping closure.
Makari confirms the exterior-detail schedule directly with Rowan, not me, then follows Harper into the foyer when she asks for security records needed by the prosecution team.
Harper returns alone several minutes later with her coat folded over one arm. She doesn't sit again.
"I need to tell you one thing before I go." She looks at Rowan instead of the half-finished soup.
Rowan settles deeper against the sofa cushion. "That sounds threatening."
"It isn't." Harper crosses the space between them and rests one hand on the back of the chair she abandoned. "You spent years acting like surviving alone was the standard you had to meet. Somewhere around the second day we were looking for you, everybody else stopped accepting that rule."
Rowan lowers the spoon to the container. She doesn't answer, and Harper gives her the time instead of filling it immediately.
"Your mother called constantly. Callie fought security, Erik turned the northeast into a search grid, and Makari let me stay in a room he'd thrown me out of twice." Harper crouches beside the sofa. "You don't have to prove you can carry everybody anymore."
Rowan looks down at her. "You rehearsed that."
Harper's mouth curves. "I edited it once."
"That explains why it was concise."
Harper leans in and kisses Rowan's temple before straightening. "I'd also like you to eat the rest of the soup."
Rowan gives her the appropriate amount of irritation, but she picks up the spoon again. Harper accepts the victory, slips into her coat, and heads for the foyer.
The estate becomes quiet after the front door closes.
Security still moves outside, staff are working somewhere beyond the kitchen, and the heating system clicks faintly through the old walls.
Nobody is carrying evidence into the library or asking for another decision, which makes the silence different from the last twelve weeks.
I wait until Rowan finishes half the soup before asking whether she wants to walk upstairs.
Suspicion appears immediately. She puts the spoon down. "Why?"
I nod toward the hall. "I want to show you two rooms."
"That answer doesn't improve the suspicion."
"You can refuse."
Rowan studies me for another moment before pushing the blanket off her legs. "Now I have to see what you've done."
I get up but don't offer my hand until she reaches for it first. Rowan uses my forearm to stand, pauses while her balance settles, then keeps hold of me on the way into the hall.
The first room is beside the library instead of upstairs.
It's been empty since I stopped using it for meetings several years ago.
The windows face east across the lawn, and afternoon sun reaches almost to the opposite wall.
Two old chairs sit under dust covers near the fireplace, while the long table that once occupied the center was removed yesterday.
Rowan stops just inside. "You've cleared it."
"Yes."
She looks around the bare room, then back at me. "For what?"
I stay near the doorway instead of walking in and announcing decisions. "It could be a nursery. It's beside the library, the morning light is good, and the bathroom on the other side of that wall can be connected without changing the hall."
Her attention returns to the windows. She walks slowly toward them, touches the broad wooden sill, then looks down at the built-in seat beneath it. "The seat stays."
I take my phone from my pocket and open the notes I've been keeping. "The seat stays."
Rowan hears me typing and turns. "You've made a list."
"I had three days."
"That isn't reassuring."
"It isn't a construction order."
She walks along the wall nearest the library and runs her fingertips over the dark paneling. "This should go. It's too dark for a baby's room."
I add the paneling. "All of it?"
"Yes." Rowan points toward the opposite wall. "I want storage there, but nothing built until we know how much space three cribs actually take."
"Agreed."
She takes another slow circuit and stops near the doorway. "No security cameras."
That one makes me lower the phone. "None?"
"Not inside the nursery." Rowan folds her arms carefully, protecting her ribs without making an issue of it. "A normal baby monitor is fine. I don't want my children growing up with Makari able to pull up their bedroom on a security screen."
I consider the practical argument that arrives automatically and let it die before speaking. "No cameras in the nursery."
Rowan watches me type it. "You thought about arguing."
"Yes."
"You didn't."
"No."
She smiles, satisfied enough that I don't mind losing.
The office is upstairs, which means the trip takes longer. Rowan uses the railing and climbs at Serena's approved pace. Halfway up, I move one step behind her rather than beside her. She notices when we reach the landing.
"You're very proud of yourself."
"I haven't interfered once."
"You're treating ordinary behavior like an achievement."
"For me, it is."
She laughs and immediately presses a hand to her side. I move toward her before stopping myself.
Rowan catches that too. "You can ask."
"Do you need to sit down?"
"No." She takes my arm again. "I need you to continue learning."
"That seems more difficult."
"It probably is."
The office is across from my bedroom. I had the storage furniture cleared but left the old desk and two bookcases in place. Rowan stops in the doorway and looks from the desk to me.
"This looks suspicious."