Chapter 2
I examined Theo’s leg myself.
No one else touched him until he agreed.
That mattered.
Every time Clara moved too quickly, his shoulders rose.
Every time a metal tray made noise, his arms drifted toward his head.
Children learn defensive movements through repetition.
I knew that clinically.
Knowing it as his mother was different.
The swelling came from an untreated injury several days old.
Nothing shattered.
Nothing beyond recovery.
Still unacceptable.
“How did it happen?”
Theo looked toward the clinic door.
Gregory and Lucille were no longer inside. My men had moved them to separate rooms in the rear office.
“Fell.”
I waited.
He added quickly:
“I’m clumsy.”
That sounded borrowed.
“Who says that?”
Silence.
I changed direction.
“Where do you live?”
“Different places.”
“What kind?”
“Rooms.”
“Hotels?”
He shook his head.
“Back rooms.”
My chest tightened.
“Who takes care of you?”
Theo thought carefully.
“Grandma Lucille when she’s there.”
“And Gregory?”
His eyes dropped.
“He says I’m expensive.”
I stayed very still.
“What does that mean?”
“If I want medicine, I have to earn.”
The plastic bag on my reception counter flashed through my mind.
Coins.
Crushed cans.
Empty bottles.
“Twelve dollars?”
He nodded.
“I got more before. They took it.”
“Who?”
Silence again.
I did not push.
Instead I asked:
“Why keep the bracelet?”
Theo touched his backpack.
“Grandma says never lose it.”
That surprised me.
“Why?”
“She says one day it makes me worth something.”
Everything inside me went cold.
Not sentimental.
Not proof of identity for him.
Leverage.
The Hayes family had kept the bracelet because they expected one day to use Theo’s bloodline.
May you like
I looked toward the rear office.
My son had spent five years being treated like an expense while the evidence of who he really was hung from his backpack like an investment they were waiting to cash.
