Chapter 2 - The Rules of Loving Someone
Roman’s lawyer arrived in forty-three minutes carrying a leather briefcase, two phones, and the expression of a man who already knew the day would cost someone a fortune.
Daniel Cho had represented Roman for eleven years, though he always insisted he represented the legitimate Calder businesses and “declined to develop curiosity” about anything else. He was compact, silver-haired, and impossible to rattle.
Until he read Evelyn Dane’s petition.
“This is not a stunt,” Daniel said from the library table. “She has affidavits.”
Roman stood by the fireplace. “From whom?”
“A former preschool aide. A pediatric therapist Milo saw after Sophie died. Two household employees who left last year.”
Emma sat on the edge of a chair near the door, unsure whether she was supposed to stay. Roman had told her to. Milo was upstairs with Tomás’s wife, Maribel, making grilled cheese in the kitchen because he had refused to be more than one floor away from Emma.
Daniel turned a page. “She’s alleging that Milo displays fear when Roman enters a room, that the household is controlled by armed security, and that Emma has assumed a parental role without qualifications.”
Emma’s cheeks warmed. “I’m not trying to replace his mother.”
Daniel looked at her kindly. “I know. But family court doesn’t care what you meant. It cares what can be shown.”
Roman’s voice sharpened. “And she can show what, exactly?”
“That your son lives in a mansion with visible guards and occasionally flinches around you.”
The room went quiet.
Roman absorbed the blow without defending himself.
Emma respected him more for that than she expected.
Daniel continued. “She is also asking for a temporary order preventing Emma from being alone with Milo until an evaluator interviews him.”
Roman pushed away from the fireplace. “No.”
“Roman.”
“He sleeps through the night because she sits outside his door after nightmares. He eats breakfast because she lets him cut toast into ridiculous dinosaur shapes. He talks to her.”
Emma looked at him.
Roman almost never acknowledged what she did.
Daniel’s tone stayed even. “I’m not saying the request is fair. I’m saying if a judge grants it, you obey.”
Roman’s jaw worked.
Emma spoke before he could. “Then we make sure the judge sees the truth first.”
Both men looked at her.
She folded her hands. “What if the house cameras captured Evelyn coaching Milo?”
Daniel straightened. “Did they?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Roman checked the time. “Tomás is pulling footage.”
Daniel nodded. “Good. Preserve original files. No editing. No pressure on Milo to explain anything. And absolutely no contact with potential witnesses.”
Roman gave him a dry look. “You say that like I have a reputation.”
Daniel did not smile. “You have several.”
A small voice came from the hallway.
“Emma?”
Milo stood there holding half a grilled cheese sandwich.
Roman’s face softened. “Hey, buddy.”
Milo’s eyes went to his father, then Daniel, then Emma.
“Can she come upstairs now?”
Emma rose. “I can.”
Daniel watched the boy cross the room and take Emma’s hand.
“What’s upstairs?” he asked gently.
Milo hugged the sandwich to his chest.
“My blue box.”
Roman became still.
“What blue box?”
Milo looked suddenly uncertain.
Emma crouched beside him. “You don’t have to show anyone anything if you’re not ready.”
“But Daddy needs it.”
Roman knelt too, leaving space between them. “Needs what?”
Milo stared at the floor.
“Grandma said it was bad.”
“What was bad?”
“The phone.”
Roman inhaled sharply.
Sophie’s phone had never been recovered after the crash.
At least, that was what everyone had been told.
The adults followed Milo upstairs without touching him. He led them into his nursery, now a child’s bedroom with rockets painted across one wall and stuffed animals lined on the window seat. Then he walked to the toy chest.
He removed two blankets, a plastic fire truck, and a puzzle box. Beneath them sat a smaller blue wooden box with chipped paint.
Milo took out a red scarf.
Then a black smartphone with a cracked screen.
Roman stared at it.
“That’s Sophie’s.”
Milo nodded. “Grandma gave it to me after the funeral.”
Daniel’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“She said Mommy would want me to have something.”
Roman’s voice was strained. “And she told you not to show me?”
Milo nodded again.
“Why?”
“She said you’d break it.”
Roman sat back on his heels as if someone had struck him.
Emma understood instantly what Evelyn had done. She had not just hidden an object. She had planted distrust inside a grieving three-year-old and watered it for two years.
“Did you ever turn it on?” Daniel asked.
Milo looked at Emma.
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“It asked for numbers.”
“A passcode,” Daniel said.
Roman reached for the phone, then stopped himself. “Milo, may I?”
The boy hesitated.
Emma squeezed his hand.
Milo handed it over.
Roman held the dead phone with both hands.
Emma watched grief move through him in silence. Sophie’s fingerprints had once been on that glass. Her photos, her messages, her unfinished thoughts might still be buried inside it.
Daniel said, “Do not try random codes. If the data matters, we preserve it professionally.”
Roman nodded.
Milo picked at the sandwich crust. “Grandma said Mommy called her from the car.”
Roman looked up. “Did Grandma tell you what Mommy said?”
Milo whispered, “She said Mommy was crying because she made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“She loved you.”
Roman closed his eyes.
Emma’s throat tightened.
Milo continued, “Grandma said loving bad people makes bad things happen.”
Roman opened his eyes. The hurt in them had turned cold.
Daniel raised a hand. “Remember what I said. No contact.”
“I remember.”
Roman stood and walked to the window.
Milo leaned close to Emma. “Is Daddy bad?”
Roman heard him.
He did not turn around.
Emma could have lied. It would have been easy. She could have said no, your father is perfect, adults make mistakes, everything is fine.
But children knew when adults built pretty walls around ugly truths.
“Your dad has done things I don’t know about,” she said. “And maybe some things he wishes he could change. But loving someone doesn’t make you responsible for everything they’ve ever done.”
Milo considered this.
“Do you love Daddy?”
Emma almost choked.
Daniel suddenly found the ceiling interesting.
Roman turned.
Emma’s face heated. “That is a very big question for grilled-cheese time.”
Milo frowned. “That means yes.”
“It means finish your sandwich.”
For the first time all day, Milo smiled.
Roman almost did too.
A knock came at the door.
Tomás entered holding a tablet.
“We found something,” he said.
Roman’s expression changed. “Show me.”
Tomás opened a security clip from twelve days earlier. The camera showed the side sitting room. Evelyn Dane sat upright on a cream sofa in a navy dress. Milo stood in front of her.
There was no audio from that camera.
But the images were clear.
Evelyn pointed toward the hallway where Emma had just left.
Then she gripped Milo’s chin.
Not violently.
Worse, somehow—deliberately.
She leaned close and mouthed words slowly.
Milo shook his head.
Evelyn repeated herself.
Milo began to cry.
Then Evelyn hugged him, smiling toward the camera as though comforting him.
Emma felt sick.
Daniel paused the frame.
“Can we recover audio from another device?”
Tomás nodded. “The foyer microphone might overlap.”
“How long?”
“An hour.”
Roman looked at the frozen image of Evelyn holding his crying son.
Milo looked too.
“That was the first rule,” he whispered.
Emma turned to him. “What rule?”
Milo’s small voice became almost inaudible.
“The rules for loving people.”
Roman crouched again. “How many rules are there?”
Milo held up four fingers.
Emma’s heart sank.
“What’s the second one?” she asked.
Milo looked at his father.
“Never tell Daddy what Grandma says.”
“The third?”
“Never tell Emma where Mommy’s phone is.”
Roman’s face drained of color.
“And the fourth?”
May you like
Milo’s eyes filled.
“If Daddy finds out, Grandma said she’ll tell the judge I’m scared of him, and I’ll never come home again.”
