“I never told him.”
“Could he have found out?”
Richard’s expression changed.
“That is the question.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
He unlocked his phone again.
“The legal review I received tonight includes access records.”
Dad stepped closer.
“Richard.”
Richard nodded.
“I know.”
“What access records?” I asked.
“Someone inside Sterling Technologies searched the archived patent ownership files.”
My pulse quickened.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
My mind moved instantly toward Marcus.
“No.”
Dad watched me.
“I didn’t say it was him.”
Richard added, “The records are not restricted to executives. Several departments can request archival access.”
“What department does Marcus work in?”
“Strategic partnerships.”
My stomach sank.
That sounded close enough.
“Was it him?”
Richard looked directly at me.
“I don’t know.”
Relief came too quickly.
Then he continued.
“But the request originated from his division.”
I turned away.
For several seconds, I stared across the river.
All I could think about was Christmas.
Marcus asking Dad about patents.
Marcus insisting I should combine investment accounts after marriage.
Marcus becoming increasingly interested in whether my father planned to retire.
Had I misunderstood all of it?
Or was I now doing the opposite—reinterpreting every ordinary moment through suspicion?
“I need to talk to him.”
Dad touched my arm.
“Not tonight.”
“I need to know.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“So is everyone.”
“That’s exactly why.”
I looked at him.
“You kept half my family history from me.”
Pain moved across his face.
“I know.”
“And now you’re asking me to wait?”
“I’m asking you to choose when you want the truth rather than letting tonight choose for you.”
That silenced me.
Richard slipped his phone back into his pocket.
“He’s right.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently everyone knows things except me.”
Dad flinched.
I immediately regretted it.
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You’re allowed to be angry.”
“I’m not angry that Mom had secrets.”
“What are you angry about?”
I looked at him.
“That you decided I couldn’t handle them.”
He nodded slowly.
“That’s fair.”
Inside the ballroom, the music had started again.
Someone had convinced the band to continue.
The melody drifted faintly through the doors.
Dad looked toward it.
“Your mother used to dance to this song.”
I listened.
It was an old jazz standard.
I recognized it.
Mom used to hum it while cooking.
My anger softened around the edges.
“Did she love that company?”
Dad thought about it.
“She loved solving problems.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
He smiled sadly.
“She didn’t love the company.”
“Did she love you there?”
His expression changed completely.
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
For a moment, I could see them as people before they became my parents.
Two young engineers.
Building something.
Falling in love.
Walking away.
Choosing another life.
It suddenly felt as though my mother had stepped closer.
Not returned.
But expanded.
She had become larger than my memories.
The terrace door opened.
This time it was Marcus.
He stopped when he saw Richard.
“Sorry.”
Richard shook his head.
“I was leaving.”
Marcus nodded.
Then he looked at me.
“Can we talk?”
Dad squeezed my shoulder.
“I’ll be inside.”
Richard followed him toward the door.
But before leaving, he turned.
“Valerie.”
I looked at him.
“Your father is right about one thing.”
“What?”
“Do not make permanent decisions because of information you learned during the worst hour of your week.”
Then he disappeared inside.
Marcus stood across from me.
For a while, neither of us moved.
Finally, he said, “I’m sorry.”
I stared at the river.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“I don’t expect that to fix anything.”
I looked at him.
His eyes were red.
Not dramatically.
Just enough to show he had been somewhere alone trying not to fall apart.
“Did you know who my father was?”
“No.”
“Did you know about Hart-Lowell?”
His expression went blank.
“What?”
I watched him carefully.
“The patent partnership.”
“What patent partnership?”
For the first time all night, his confusion looked completely genuine.
I felt something loosen in my chest.
Then I remembered the archive search.
“Have you ever accessed Sterling’s historical patent files?”
He frowned.
“No.”
“Has anyone in your division?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“Valerie, what is this about?”
I studied him.
He looked frightened now for a different reason.
Not because he had been exposed.
Because he realized there was another story unfolding.
“I need you to answer something honestly.”
“Okay.”
“Why did you ask my father about patents last Christmas?”
