Chapter 7 - The Confrontation
Two days later,
I was sitting in a wheelchair in the NICU,
staring at Leo through the glass of his incubator.
He was sleeping,
his tiny hands curled into fists,
the machines around him humming a steady,
reassuring song.
I felt a shadow fall over the glass,
and for a moment,
I thought it was Rachel.
But when I turned,
my blood turned to ice.
It was Derrick.
He was accompanied by a police officer,
his hands cuffed in front of him,
his expensive suit wrinkled and stained.
He looked like a ghost of the man he used to be,
his face pale and sunken,
his eyes filled with a desperate,
cloying hope.
"Laura,"
he whispered,
stepping toward me until the officer pulled him back.
"I...
the lawyer said I could have a brief visit."
"I heard he was born."
I looked at him,
feeling a surge of disgust so strong it made me nauseous.
"You have a lot of nerve coming here,"
I said,
my voice low and lethal.
"I'm his father,"
he stammered,
his eyes darting to the baby.
"I didn't mean for things to go so far,"
"Mom was just so stressed about the wedding,"
"I thought you were just panicked."
I stood up from the wheelchair,
ignoring the ache in my body,
and walked right up to him.
"You locked the door,
Derrick,"
I said,
each word a strike.
"You heard me begging,
and you walked away."
"You chose a cake and a photographer over your wife and your son."
"And you chose a life of fraud over a life of honesty."
Derrick looked away,
his shoulders slumped in a pathetic display of regret.
"I didn't know about the money laundering,"
"I just signed what Mom told me to."
"I'm an auditor,
Derrick,"
I reminded him,
leaning closer.
"I've seen the emails."
"I've seen the instructions you gave to the accountants."
"You weren't a victim of Regina,"
"you were her partner."
"And now,"
"you're nothing."
I looked at the officer.
"Take him away."
"He has no right to be here."
"Laura,
please,"
Derrick cried as he was led toward the door.
"I can help you,"
"I can tell them everything about the other vineyards!"
"I've already told them,
Derrick,"
I said,
turning back to my son.
"I'm the one who did the counting,
remember?"
The doors closed behind him,
and the NICU was quiet once again.
I reached through the portals of the incubator and touched Leo’s foot,
feeling the warmth of his skin.
He was mine now.
Just mine.
The Highlands were a legacy of theft and pride,
and I was going to make sure Leo never even knew their names.
May you like
The "little accountant" had balanced the books,
and the final total was zero for the family that had tried to lock her away.
