Chapter 12 - Daniel Marsh Comes Home
Daniel arrived at dusk.
Of course he did.
Men like Daniel Marsh did not run into storms. They waited until the rain stopped, then entered through the front door as though weather itself had been cleared for them.
He came in a navy overcoat with two attorneys, one bodyguard, and the calm expression Dalia remembered from every lie he had ever told.
She watched from the second-floor landing, hidden behind Rowan and two guards.
Her hands went cold.
Daniel looked exactly the same.
That was the cruelty of it.
No horns. No visible monster. Just a handsome man with quiet eyes and careful manners, the kind of man a receptionist would trust with her phone, an investor would trust with numbers, a lonely woman might trust with her future.
He looked up.
Their eyes met.
For a second, Dalia was back in his apartment, barefoot in the kitchen, signing documents while he kissed her shoulder and told her she was making both their lives easier.
Then Bobby growled beside her.
The memory broke.
Daniel smiled.
“Dalia.”
Rowan stepped forward. “You will address counsel.”
Daniel’s smile widened. “Still collecting wounded things, Rowan?”
Rowan did not react.
Daniel removed his gloves finger by finger.
“I came because there has been a misunderstanding.”
The federal agent in the foyer raised his eyebrows. “A misunderstanding involving attempted murder?”
Daniel glanced at him with polite irritation.
“I do not know who you are.”
“You will.”
Daniel looked back at Rowan. “May we speak privately?”
“No.”
“Family matters should remain family matters.”
Dalia descended one step.
Daniel’s eyes shifted to her stomach.
Something possessive moved across his face.
“There is my family.”
Dalia nearly stopped breathing.
Rowan moved, but she put a hand on his arm.
The entire foyer noticed.
So did Daniel.
His expression changed.
Dalia forced herself down the stairs.
Her ankle ached. Her ribs protested. Her fear screamed.
She kept walking.
When she reached the foyer, Daniel lowered his voice into the tone that had once made her feel chosen.
“Dalia, you look exhausted. These people have frightened you.”
“No.”
“You are confused.”
“No.”
“You left without understanding what you were carrying.”
She looked him in the eye.
“I understand exactly what I’m carrying.”
His gaze hardened.
“Our child.”
“My child.”
The correction struck him harder than an insult.
Daniel stepped closer.
Rowan’s guards moved.
Daniel stopped.
“Do you think he can protect you forever?”
Dalia’s voice shook, but it held.
“I think I stopped needing men like you to explain forever.”
Daniel’s mouth tightened.
Then he made his mistake.
He looked at Rowan and said, “You do not even know if the baby is mine.”
The room went very still.
Dalia’s face burned.
Daniel smiled faintly, thinking shame would do what violence had not.
But Rowan only looked at Dalia.
She lifted her chin.
“It is his,” she said. “And that is the least important thing about this child.”
Daniel’s smile vanished.
Dalia continued, louder now.
“You wanted to use me before I knew I was pregnant. You wanted my signature, my accounts, my clean history. When I ran, you wanted the files. When you suspected the baby, you wanted leverage. Your sister wanted me gone. His family wanted me dead. All of you looked at this child and saw a tool.”
Her voice broke.
She pressed both hands over her stomach.
“I see a person.”
No one spoke.
Then Serafina Fiero appeared at the top of the stairs.
“So did I,” she said.
Daniel looked up, confused.
Salvatore, standing between two security men near the library, closed his eyes.
Daniel understood too late that the game had changed while he was driving there.
The dead had returned.
May you like
The buried had survived.
And the maid he had underestimated was no longer alone.
