Chapter 13 - The Room Clara ChoseAlexander offered Clara the east guest suite.
It had silk wallpaper, a private terrace, and a bathroom larger than Clara’s old apartment.
She refused it.
“Noah’s room,” she said.
Alexander blinked.
“You want to sleep in the nursery?”
“I slept outside his door for months in a hallway chair. A mattress beside his bed will feel luxurious.”
He did not argue.
By evening, a small bed was placed near Noah’s.
Not by servants.
Alexander carried it in himself.
The staff pretended not to watch.
Clara noticed anyway.
“You don’t have to perform humility,” she said.
Alexander set the bed frame down.
“I’m not performing.”
“You’ve never moved furniture before.”
“That obvious?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the crooked frame.
“I’m learning.”
Clara almost smiled.
Noah clapped from the bed.
“Daddy builded!”
Alexander gave a solemn bow.
“Badly, but yes.”
For the first time since the ballroom, Noah laughed.
The sound changed the room.
Clara sat on the floor, overwhelmed by it.
Alexander heard it too.
That small laugh was worth more than every endorsement, every merger, every headline.
Later, after Noah fell asleep, Clara opened a small suitcase.
Alexander stood by the door.
“You need more things.”
“I have things.”
“Clara.”
She looked at him.
He glanced at the suitcase.
Two sweaters.
Three dresses.
A worn photo of Clara pregnant.
A baby blanket she had kept for a child she thought was gone.
His face softened with pain.
“I’ll have your apartment secured. Anything you want brought here—”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I don’t want men in suits packing my life like evidence.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll go myself.”
“Then I’ll drive you.”
She gave him a look.
“No.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
“Clara, reporters are outside your building.”
“And whose family made that happen?”
He absorbed it.
“You’re right.”
Her anger dimmed as quickly as it came.
She looked tired.
“I’m not trying to punish you.”
“I know.”
“I just need one part of my life that isn’t managed by Blackwoods.”
Alexander nodded.
“I’ll arrange security at a distance. You won’t see them unless you need them.”
She studied him.
“That sounds like managing.”
“It is.”
She almost smiled again.
At midnight, Clara woke to Noah crying.
“No white lady,” he sobbed. “No lock.”
She gathered him immediately.
“No one is locking anything.”
Alexander appeared in the doorway seconds later, hair disheveled, shirt untucked.
Clara looked up.
“You heard?”
“I hear him every night.”
That sentence hurt.
He had heard his son suffer and never known the cause.
Noah reached one arm toward him.
Alexander froze.
Clara nodded softly.
“Go.”
He sat on the edge of the bed.
Noah leaned into him while still holding Clara’s hand.
“Daddy, Mommy stay?”
“Yes.”
“White lady gone?”
“Yes.”
Noah sniffed.
“Grandma mad?”
Alexander looked at Clara.
Then back at his son.
“Grandma made mistakes. Big ones. She can’t be near you right now.”
Noah thought about that.
“Grandma timeout?”
Clara pressed her lips together.
Alexander nodded seriously.
“Yes. Grandma timeout.”
Noah accepted this justice and fell asleep between them.
Clara and Alexander sat frozen, connected by the small hand of the child they had both lost in different ways.
Near dawn, Clara whispered, “We can’t become a family because of guilt.”
Alexander answered quietly.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“And we can’t pretend we aren’t tied together forever.”
His eyes met hers.
“No.”
Noah slept between them, breathing softly.
For the first time, Clara let herself imagine morning without fear.
Then Alexander’s phone buzzed.
May you like
A message from Daniel.
You need to come downstairs. Beatrice is missing.
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