Chapter 9 - A Name on Paper
Della was discharged three days later, though "discharged" felt like the wrong word for what actually happened — she was transferred, in a black armored SUV with tinted windows, from the hospital directly to the estate Royce had described that first night.
The gates alone took her breath away: wrought iron twice her height, flanked by two guards who bowed their heads as the car passed. The house beyond looked less like a home and more like something from a postcard of a country she'd never visited — pale stone, ivy climbing one wing, a fountain that had clearly never once been shut off to save money.
"This is too much," Della whispered, pressing her palm to the window.
"It's a house," Royce said simply, sitting across from her. "Rooms and walls. Nothing more, until you decide what it means to you."
Inside, a woman in her fifties with silver-streaked hair and kind eyes waited at the door.
"This is Mrs. Alvarez," Royce introduced. "She'll manage the household and anything you need. She raised three children of her own — she'll know things about the next few months that I don't."
Mrs. Alvarez smiled warmly. "Welcome home, Ms. Marsh. And congratulations."
Della, still overwhelmed, only managed a small nod before Royce guided her inside. In the study, the leather folder from the hospital sat waiting on the desk — the deed, the trust documents, all still unsigned.
"I still haven't agreed to this," Della said, eyeing it warily.
"You don't have to sign anything today," Royce said. "But there's one document I'd like you to look at now." He opened a second folder she hadn't noticed — a birth certificate pre-filing form, the father's name line left conspicuously blank.
May you like
"I want to be listed," Royce said quietly. "Not because of the estate. Not because of the money. Because she's mine to protect, and I don't want her ever wondering why my name isn't there."
Della stared at the blank line for a long moment. Then, slowly, she nodded.
