“Marcus has called my office nine times,” Nadine said. “He has also attempted to contact the condo building, the leasing company, and your former joint bank. All expected.”
Julianne sat on the edge of the bed. “Did he mention the children?”
“He demanded their location.”
Julianne’s chest tightened.
Nadine’s voice softened slightly. “Julianne, the custody agreement he signed this morning grants you primary physical custody and permission for international relocation, provided he receives the scheduled contact options listed in the agreement. He signed every page. He initialed the travel clause twice.”
“I know.”
“He may not have read carefully because he believed he was winning.”
Julianne exhaled. “That sounds like Marcus.”
“There’s something else,” Nadine said.
Julianne straightened. “What?”
“I received a message from Warren Henderson.”
That was unexpected.
“Marcus’s father?”
“Yes. He asked whether there was an appropriate way to send a note to you. Not Marcus. Warren.”
Julianne stared at the pale wall opposite the bed.
“What kind of note?”
“He didn’t say. Only that he owed you an apology and didn’t want to intrude.”
Julianne felt a complicated ache move through her.
For years, Warren had been kind in quiet, insufficient ways. He had fixed a broken cabinet once while Marcus complained that dinner was late. He had taught Theo to play chess. He had slipped Lily twenty dollars at Christmas and told her to buy something silly. But when Elaine or Roxanne criticized Julianne, Warren often retreated behind his newspaper.
His silence had hurt because Julianne had sensed he knew better.
“Tell him…” She stopped.
What did she want to tell him?
That apology was too late? That she appreciated it? That she could not carry one more Henderson feeling across an ocean?
“Tell him he can send it through you,” Julianne said finally. “But I may not answer.”
“That’s reasonable.”
After the call ended, Julianne sat very still.
Outside the room, Lily giggled at something Mira said. Theo murmured to the cat. The kettle clicked off in the kitchen.
Life, impossibly, continued.
In Chicago, Warren Henderson sat alone in his study, staring at a blank sheet of stationery.
He had spent forty-two years building a family reputation on discipline, discretion, and success. He had believed there was dignity in keeping private matters private. Now he wondered how many harms had hidden behind that word.
Private.
Private meant Julianne smiling through dinners while Marcus corrected her in front of everyone.
Private meant Elaine asking whether Julianne had “let herself go” after Lily was born.
Private meant Roxanne rolling her eyes when Julianne brought homemade food to gatherings instead of expensive gifts.
Private meant Warren noticing Theo flinch when Marcus raised his voice and then telling himself it was not his place.
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“911, what’s happening there, sweetheart?” she asked, lowering her voice until it was almost a whisper. 0
