“Yes.”
“Without your mother.”
“Yes.”
Beatrice stiffened.
Marcus didn’t look at her.
I placed the engagement ring on the table between us.
His eyes dropped to it.
I didn’t push it toward him.
I didn’t make a speech.
I simply left it there.
Then I walked away.
Outside, the night air felt colder than I expected.
The hotel terrace overlooked the river. Small boats moved beneath the city lights, leaving silver trails across the dark water.
I wrapped my arms around myself.
A minute later, the door opened.
I expected Marcus.
It was Dad.
“You always follow me when I need five minutes alone,” I said.
“You always say that and then complain if I don’t.”
I leaned against the railing.
He stood beside me.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Finally, I said, “Did you know?”
“About Beatrice?”
“About Marcus.”
Dad looked toward the river.
“I knew he cared a great deal about appearances.”
“That’s diplomatic.”
“I’m trying to be.”
“Don’t.”
He smiled faintly.
“I noticed he often asked questions about my career.”
I turned.
“What questions?”
“Who I knew. What clients I worked with. Whether I still had industry contacts.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because people ask questions.”
“Dad.”
He sighed.
“I didn’t know whether it meant anything.”
“But you suspected.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the river.
“What else?”
He remained silent.
I looked at him.
“What else did he ask?”
Dad hesitated.
“He once asked whether I had any ownership interest in old technology patents.”
My breath caught.
“When?”
“Last Christmas.”
I remembered Christmas.
Marcus had spent nearly an hour talking to Dad in the kitchen while I wrapped gifts upstairs.
When he returned, he said they had finally bonded.
My hands grew cold.
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
“Which is?”
Dad smiled without humor.
“That I don’t discuss business during Christmas.”
I groaned.
“Dad.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know. That’s the problem.”
He leaned against the railing.
I studied him.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Have ownership interests?”
He became very quiet.
The terrace suddenly felt colder.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
My heart started pounding again.
“In Sterling Technologies?”
“No.”
I exhaled.
Then he added, “Not directly.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, the terrace door opened again.
Richard Sterling stepped outside.
He had removed his tie.
He looked less like a CEO now and more like a man carrying something heavy.
“Daniel.”
Dad closed his eyes briefly.
“I told you later.”
Richard looked toward me.
“We may not have later.”
My father straightened.
“What happened?”
Richard pulled out his phone.
“I received this ten minutes ago.”
Dad took it.
His face changed.
Not dramatically.
But enough.
“What is it?” I asked.
Neither man answered.
I stepped closer.
“Dad.”
Richard spoke.
“Three months ago, our legal department began reviewing the origin of several foundational patents connected to the early Harbor Systems platform.”
I looked between them.
“Why?”
“Because another company is trying to acquire a controlling interest in one of our subsidiaries.”
That sounded complicated but not alarming.
Then Richard continued.
“The acquisition triggered a historical ownership review.”
Dad handed the phone back.
“I thought this was resolved years ago.”
“So did I.”
“What wasn’t resolved?” I asked.
Richard hesitated.
Dad answered.
“Some of the original technology was registered through a holding partnership.”
“What partnership?”
He looked at me.
“Hart-Lowell.”
My surname.
I blinked.
“Hart?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
“And Lowell?”
Dad’s expression shifted.
Richard looked away.
I felt the first real hint that this story had nothing to do with Marcus anymore.
“Who is Lowell?”
Dad rubbed his thumb against his watch again.
Then he said something I had never heard before.
“Your mother.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“My mother’s maiden name was Avery.”
“That was the name she used later.”
I stared at him.
My mother had died when I was fifteen.
I remembered her as warm and funny, with dark hair she never managed to keep pinned up and a terrible habit of humming while reading.
She had worked in education.
At least that was what I had always believed.
“What are you saying?”
Dad looked toward the ballroom doors.
As if making sure nobody had followed.
“Your mother was involved with Harbor Systems before you were born.”
“How involved?”
Richard answered.
“She designed the original security framework.”
