Chapter 3
I brought Andrew back inside alone.
Elaine remained outside with my bodyguards.
He entered angry.
That was useful.
Guilty people perform calm when they still believe the story is theirs.
Andrew had already lost that confidence.
“What are the dinners?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“The dinners you take Lucy to.”
His face changed.
Barely.
Enough.
“My mother hosts family.”
“Without me.”
“You’re busy.”
“Who attends?”
“Relatives.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
He exhaled.
“Older family members. A few Whitaker men.”
Capos.
He avoided the word because saying it would reveal the purpose.
“How long?”
“Months.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve been taking my three-year-old daughter to private family gatherings for months without telling me.”
“They’re not secret.”
“I didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t make them secret.”
It was almost impressive.
I had married a man capable of turning omission into philosophy.
“What do they ask Lucy?”
He said nothing.
I moved closer.
“What do they ask our daughter?”
Andrew finally answered.
“Who she trusts.”
“No.”
“Who she feels safe with.”
“No.”
His mouth tightened.
“Who leads the family.”
There.
“And you want her to say you.”
He looked offended.
“My mother thinks people should see us as a unit.”
“A unit where I disappear?”
“That’s not what this is.”
I almost smiled.
“Then why punish her for saying my name?”
Silence.
That was the end of denial.
Andrew paced once.
“You don’t understand what it’s like.”
“What?”
“To be your husband.”
The words came out harder than he intended.
Good.
We had finally reached the real wound.
“Every room calls you Boss before anyone remembers I exist.”
I looked at him.
“So you made Lucy correct the room for you.”
His face tightened.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I kept my voice low.
“You couldn’t make grown men see you differently, so you started with a child who wanted her father to be happy.”
That landed.
May you like
But Andrew was not the architect.
I could already feel Elaine behind the door.
