Chapter 6 - THE HOTEL ROOM
Detective Morales would not let me go to the hotel.
That was the first thing she made clear.
"You are not part of a negotiation team," she said.
"They asked for me."
"They also tried to move money using your dead husband's login credentials."
She folded her arms.
"That does not mean they get to choose who walks into their room."
Todd paced between my kitchen and dining room.
"My son is in there."
"Which is exactly why we are going slowly."
Morales's voice softened only slightly.
"If Knox is safe, we keep him safe."
Todd looked toward the window.
"And if he isn't?"
Nobody answered him.
Police had confirmed Megan checked into the Airport West Hotel at 4:11 that morning under her own name.
Gerald arrived twenty-seven minutes later.
They were in adjoining rooms.
Knox was visible on hallway security footage being carried by Megan.
No one had seen the child leave.
Morales told us a child-services liaison was heading to the hotel.
She also told us not to call Megan.
Todd ignored that instruction three minutes later.
His call went to voicemail.
He called again.
On the third attempt, Megan answered.
"Stop calling me."
Todd put the phone on speaker.
"Let me hear Knox."
Silence.
"Megan, let me hear my son."
A baby's babbling came faintly through the line.
Todd closed his eyes.
"Give him to me."
"You don't get to make demands after humiliating me."
"I humiliated you?"
His voice broke.
"You told my entire family another man fathered my son."
"Not another man."
Megan's reply was immediate.
"Nick."
I felt Daria watching me.
Todd gripped the back of a chair.
"Why is Gerald with you?"
"He is helping me."
"With what?"
"Protecting Knox's rights."
Daria silently shook her head, telling Todd not to argue about the law.
He understood.
"Come home."
"No."
"Then let me pick up Knox."
"No."
"Megan."
"Todd, you already chose Angela."
"I chose not to help you commit fraud."
The line went silent.
Then Megan said something so calmly that it frightened me.
"You have no idea what Angela did."
I stepped closer to the phone.
"I'm right here."
Megan laughed.
"Of course you are."
"Tell me what I did."
"You stole Nick's life."
My mouth went dry.
"What does that mean?"
"He was miserable with you."
"Then he could have left."
"He tried."
"No."
"You controlled everything."
Her voice sharpened.
"The house. The accounts. His company distributions. His schedule. Even the embryos."
I almost could not believe what I was hearing.
Nick had managed his own business, traveled alone, opened secret credit accounts, gambled for thirty hours at a time, maintained six affairs, and apparently paid my sister nearly six figures.
Yet somehow I had controlled him.
"Did he tell you that?"
"He told me everything."
"Did he tell you about the other women?"
Silence.
For the first time, Megan had no answer.
I continued.
"Did he tell you about Vanessa?"
I invented the name.
Daria's eyebrows lifted.
"Did he tell you about Claire?"
Another invented name.
Megan's breathing changed.
"Who are they?"
There it was.
She had not known.
Whatever fantasy Nick sold her, she had believed she was the exception.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Then I remembered the signature practice sheets.
"There were six women on his phone, Megan."
"You're lying."
"Hotel confirmations too."
"You're lying."
"One of them asked when he was leaving me."
Megan's voice shook.
"Stop."
"He told her soon."
The line went dead.
Todd stared at me.
"Was that true?"
"Yes."
He sat down slowly.
Daria whispered, "Good."
I looked at her.
"Good?"
"Not emotionally."
She nodded toward the phone.
"Strategically. Megan thought she had exclusive information from Nick. Now she knows she did not. That makes Gerald less valuable because his leverage depends on controlling the story."
Morales did not look impressed.
"It may also make her unstable."
That stopped us.
Thirty-two minutes later, police entered the hotel room after Megan agreed to open the door.
Todd was allowed to wait in the lobby.
I stayed at my house with Daria.
Morales called us from the hotel.
Knox was safe.
Todd cried when Morales said it.
Not dramatically.
His shoulders simply dropped and tears appeared.
He turned away from us, pressing a fist against his mouth.
Whatever DNA would later say, his body already knew what fatherhood meant.
Daria gave him a minute before asking practical questions.
Had Megan packed medication for Knox?
Yes.
Diapers?
Yes.
His stuffed fox?
Todd looked confused.
"What?"
"The one he sleeps with."
"No."
That small omission told Todd something he did not say aloud.
Megan had planned enough to pack legal papers and a duffel bag.
She had not planned around Knox's comfort.
The hotel staff later found the stuffed fox at home beneath his crib.
Todd held it on his lap while waiting for police to release the child.
That image stayed with me longer than any courtroom exhibit.
Megan had surrendered him to Todd voluntarily after a child-services worker arrived.
The worker documented Knox as clean, fed, and physically unharmed.
That mattered.
No one wanted the financial case exaggerated into claims that were not true.
Megan had endangered trust and property.
There was no evidence she had physically harmed her son.
Todd insisted on that distinction whenever relatives became dramatic.
"Don't invent things," he told Aunt Rebecca once.
"What she actually did is enough."
I respected him for that.
Anger tempts people to improve accusations for emotional effect.
Truth did not need improvement.
Gerald had given police his laptop and phone only after they produced a warrant tied to the attempted bank transfer.
Megan surrendered nothing.
She claimed her phone had been stolen.
Police found the device twenty minutes later inside the toilet tank in her room.
Todd came back to my house carrying Knox.
The baby was asleep against his chest.
For the first time since the party, I let myself look at him without hearing Megan's accusation in my head.
He had Nick's dark hair.
Or maybe I only thought that because she had planted the idea.
His nose looked like Todd's.
His ears looked like Megan's.
Babies do not come with labels.
Adults put stories on their faces.
Todd stood awkwardly in the foyer.
"I didn't know where else to go."
"Come in."
He carried Knox into the living room.
The child woke and reached for me.
It happened automatically.
I took him.
He pressed one warm hand against my neck.
For one terrible second, I wanted to pull away.
Then he yawned.
He was one year old.
He had not forged anything.
He had not slept with anyone's husband.
He had not opened a credit line or blackmailed a dead man.
I held him tighter.
Todd started crying.
He turned away, embarrassed.
I pretended not to notice.
An hour later, Detective Morales arrived with news.
Gerald's laptop contained a folder labeled ND ESTATE.
It also contained a second folder hidden inside a directory of old tax software.
Forensic technicians recovered it because deleted shortcut links still pointed to the files.
The folder was called OPTIONS.
Inside were spreadsheets modeling different ways to pressure me into settlement.
One column listed estimated liquid assets.
Another listed legal obstacles.
A third listed pressure events.
Public paternity claim.
Bank default notice.
Trust dispute.
Embryo controversy.
Media exposure.
I stared at the words.
My life had been reduced to leverage categories.
The spreadsheet did not prove who typed every line, but metadata showed Gerald created it and Megan edited it repeatedly.
One comment beside Media exposure read:
She will pay to keep hospital board from seeing this.
That sentence made something inside me harden.
Megan knew how seriously I took my career.
She knew my board members.
She knew I avoided publicity.
She had interpreted professionalism as a pressure point.
Daria looked at me after reading it.
"Still want to stay quiet?"
"Yes."
She seemed surprised.
"But not because I'm ashamed."
I pointed at the screen.
"Because they don't get to choose my volume either."
That was the beginning of a different kind of control.
Inside were multiple versions of wills bearing Nick's name.
Some were clearly drafts.
Some were altered copies.
One contained the forty-percent clause Megan had presented.
The file metadata showed it had been created three days after Nick died.
Todd went pale.
Daria asked the next question.
"Who created it?"
Morales looked at me.
"The registered user on the computer is Gerald Croft."
I exhaled.
Then she added the part that changed everything.
"But the document revision history shows a second user edited the beneficiary language."
"Who?"
Morales looked at Todd.
"The username was MeganH."
Todd closed his eyes.
That should have been enough.
It should have ended the argument.
But Megan had one card left.
At 7:15 that evening, Daria received an email from a lawyer in Charlotte named Preston Hale.
Megan had retained him.
The message contained a formal notice.
Megan intended to petition the court for recognition of Knox as Nicholas Dorsey's biological child.
Attached was a private DNA test.
Probability of paternity: 99.98 percent.
I read the number three times.
Then Todd whispered, "No."
Daria did not speak.
I looked down at Knox asleep against my shoulder.
May you like
For the first time, I saw Nick's face in his.
