“This changes the filing.”
Daniel looked at Amy. “I will stop her.”
“You cannot undo this by promising.”
“I know.”
“You cannot fix four months by becoming angry tonight.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
He stood very still.
“I am going to tell the truth, even when it makes me look guilty.”
Amy’s eyes filled, but she forced herself not to look away.
He continued, “I will sign the separation papers. I will transfer the shares that are legally mine into a trust for the baby. I will give you access to every account, every message, every file. I will testify against my mother. And if you want me nowhere near you, I will obey that.”
The room was silent.
“Why should I believe you now?”
“You shouldn’t. Not because I say it. You should believe it only if I do it.”
He turned to Mr. Hale. “Prepare everything.”
The attorney nodded.
Daniel looked back at Amy. “I am not asking you to forgive me.”
“What are you asking?”
“For the chance to become someone who deserves to be forgiven.”
Amy pressed her palm against the small curve beneath her dress. The child moved faintly, a flutter like a fish turning beneath water.
Daniel saw the movement.
His expression broke.
He looked away, giving her the privacy he had failed to give her in so many other ways.
The officers finished their questions. Vanessa gave her statement separately. Before she left, she stood in front of Amy with her coat folded over one arm.
“I resigned from the foundation,” she said. “I will return every payment I can. I will testify.”
Amy nodded.
Vanessa’s eyes lowered. “I know that does not repair anything.”
“No.”
“I also know saying sorry is not enough.”
“No.”
Vanessa accepted the words. “Then I will spend my time doing what comes after sorry.”
She left without asking to be comforted.
Near midnight, Daniel drove Amy home because her driver had not arrived. He offered to call someone else, but Amy said she preferred the silence of the car to another explanation.
Rain traced the windows in silver lines. The city passed around them, blurred signs and red taillights dissolving in the wet glass.
Daniel kept both hands on the steering wheel.
At the first intersection, he said, “I can take you to your sister’s.”
“I am not going to my sister’s.”
“Your apartment?”
“Our apartment.”
He glanced at her.
