The news spread through the city by morning, but Amy did not watch it.
She sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea growing cold before her.
Daniel sat across from her. He had changed out of his tuxedo, but the red mark on his cheek remained.
“I signed the documents,” he said.
Amy looked up.
“The separation agreement. The trust. The transfer of the house to you until the baby turns eighteen, if you want it. I also gave Mr. Hale permission to release the financial records to your father’s former partners.”
“My father’s business is gone.”
“I know.”
“You cannot rebuild his life with a signature.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because you should have had the truth years ago. Even if it cannot restore what was lost, it belongs to you.”
Amy looked toward the window. Morning had begun to lighten the rain.
“What will happen to you?”
“The board may remove me. The company may be broken apart. There will be charges.”
“Against your mother?”
“Against both of us, if the records show I benefited knowingly.”
She studied him.
“You did benefit.”
“Yes.”
He did not soften the answer.
“I did not know the source of everything,” he continued, “but I enjoyed the house, the money, the reputation. Ignorance does not make me innocent.”
Amy lowered her eyes.
That was the first thing he had said that did not ask her to separate his intentions from his actions.
“I need time,” she said.
“You can have it.”
“I need you to attend every medical appointment from now on, but only if you can do it without treating the appointment as proof that we are getting back together.”
“I will.”
“I need you to speak to a therapist.”
“I made an appointment.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
She nodded.
“I need you to tell the truth about me when people ask.”
“I will.”
“And I need you to stop calling this our home.”
His face tightened.
“What should I call it?”
“Your house.”
He nodded.
