Chapter 11 - THE STORY THE PRESS TRIED TO STEAL
Ruby’s face appeared on television six months after the wedding.
Daniel almost broke a remote control.
A tabloid had obtained photographs from wedding guests.
One showed Ruby running down the aisle.
Another showed Daniel crouched beside her.
Headline:
THE LITTLE GIRL WHO SAVED A BILLIONAIRE.
Leah called him before breakfast.
“You promised.”
“I know.”
Daniel was already contacting attorneys.
“You promised they wouldn’t turn her into a story.”
“I know.”
Ruby’s image had been blurred in most legitimate reporting.
The tabloid had not bothered.
Her school name appeared online within hours.
Daniel felt sick.
This was exactly what Leah feared.
He filed emergency privacy motions.
The photograph was removed from several sites.
Too late.
Parents recognized Ruby.
Reporters waited near school.
Leah kept her home.
Ruby hated that.
“I didn’t do anything bad.”
“No,” Leah said.
“Then why can’t I go?”
“Because adults are annoying.”
Ruby looked at Daniel.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Leah stared at him.
“What?”
“At least I’m honest.”
The problem grew.
A television producer offered Leah fifty thousand dollars for an interview.
She refused.
Then one hundred thousand.
Refused.
Then a publisher offered a children’s book.
Ruby thought that sounded fun.
Leah said absolutely not.
Daniel supported her.
That surprised several public relations advisors.
“You’re missing an opportunity,” one said.
Daniel stared.
“She’s a child.”
“This could improve Mercer’s reputation.”
“You’re fired.”
The advisor blinked.
“You can’t—”
Daniel looked at the new CEO.
She smiled.
“He can recommend it.”
The advisor disappeared.
Leah heard about it later.
“You fired a publicist because he wanted to use Ruby.”
“He wasn’t fired.”
“What happened?”
“Mutual separation.”
“Rich-people phrase.”
“Yes.”
Ruby’s privacy eventually returned.
But the incident taught Daniel something.
Owen’s story mattered.
Leah wanted people to know what he had done.
Just not through Ruby.
So Daniel created something else.
Not alone.
He asked Leah.
That mattered.
The Owen Carter Integrity Fund.
An independent nonprofit supporting corporate whistleblowers and families harmed by retaliation.
Daniel offered initial financing.
Leah required independent governance.
He agreed.
She insisted Owen’s face not become Mercer advertising.
Agreed.
Ruby designed the logo.
A cardinal.
Daniel cried when she showed him.
He denied it.
Ruby photographed him.
Evidence.
The fund launched one year after Owen’s murder became public.
Leah spoke.
Not Daniel.
She stood before hundreds of people and talked about fear.
Not heroism.
She said Owen was scared.
She was scared.
Ruby was scared.
“Courage,” Leah said, “is not a personality some people are born with. Sometimes courage is what happens when staying quiet finally hurts more than speaking.”
Daniel watched from the front row.
He had never admired anyone more.
Afterward, they walked outside.
Ruby had gone for ice cream with Leah’s sister.
Daniel and Leah stood beneath the hotel awning while rain fell.
“You were incredible.”
“I almost threw up.”
“Still incredible.”
She smiled.
A year had passed since the wedding.
A year since Leah was poisoned.
A year since Ruby ran down that aisle.
Daniel and Leah had danced.
Had dinner.
Shared school pickups.
Arguments.
Long telephone conversations.
Neither called it dating.
Everyone else did.
Ruby had once asked if Daniel was Leah’s boyfriend.
Leah nearly dropped a plate.
Daniel escaped the room.
Coward.
Tonight, he decided to stop.
“Leah.”
She looked at him.
“I’d like to take you to dinner.”
“We eat together.”
“Without Ruby.”
“She’ll be offended.”
“Probably.”
Leah studied him.
“As friends?”
“No.”
Silence.
Rain hit the street.
Daniel continued.
“I’ve spent a year making sure I’m not confusing gratitude with affection.”
Her expression softened.
“And?”
“I’m not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“You were going to marry another woman twelve months ago.”
“I remember.”
“Your judgment has historical issues.”
He laughed.
“Fair.”
“You used to employ me.”
“I don’t anymore.”
“You’re richer than half the state.”
“Less relevant than people think.”
“You have security outside my apartment sometimes.”
“Only when there’s a threat.”
“Daniel.”
He smiled.
“Sorry.”
Leah looked away.
He waited.
No pressure.
Finally she said, “One dinner.”
Daniel exhaled.
“That sounds familiar.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Their first date happened at a small Italian restaurant.
Daniel chose somewhere he did not own.
Leah checked.
Twice.
They talked about everything except Richard Hale.
Movies.
Ruby.
Travel.
Leah’s hotel job.
Daniel’s inability to cook.
“That cannot be true.”
“I can cook.”
“What?”
“Eggs.”
“How?”
“Chef prepares ingredients.”
“That is not cooking.”
“Disagree.”
She laughed.
Daniel loved the sound.
When he drove her home, he walked her to the apartment entrance.
No limousine waiting dramatically.
No roses.
No grand speech.
“Thank you.”
Leah smiled.
“I had fun.”
“So did I.”
He wanted to kiss her.
He did not.
She noticed.
“You’re thinking again.”
“Yes.”
“About?”
“Whether asking permission for everything becomes annoying.”
Her smile softened.
“Not yet.”
Daniel swallowed.
“May I kiss you?”
Leah looked at him for several seconds.
Then nodded.
“Yes.”
It was gentle.
Brief.
Nothing like the staged photographs and society-page romance Daniel had lived with Vanessa.
It felt terrifyingly real.
When they separated, Leah whispered, “Slow.”
“Yes.”
“Very slow.”
“Yes.”
“Ruby comes first.”
“Always.”
“You don’t move us into your estate.”
He laughed.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were thinking.”
“Possibly.”
“No.”
“Understood.”
She kissed him again.
Then went inside.
Daniel stood outside smiling like an idiot.
Marcus waited by the car.
Daniel looked at him.
“Say nothing.”
Marcus opened the door.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Professional expression.”
Daniel got inside.
His phone rang.
Rebecca Sloan.
He answered.
“What?”
Her voice turned serious.
“Richard Hale’s trial date was moved.”
“When?”
“Six weeks.”
“Good.”
“There’s a problem.”
Of course.
“What?”
“One of the prosecution’s key witnesses has recanted.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“Grant Voss.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Grant had confessed to Owen’s murder.
Without him, Richard’s defense could attack the entire chain.
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Rebecca added something worse.
“Grant says Leah Carter paid him to invent the story.”
Daniel’s eyes opened.
May you like
The final battle had begun.
And Richard Hale had chosen Leah as his target.
