Mason watched him.
“Who are you contacting?”
“Our attorney.”
“I don’t need an attorney.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“It usually means something bad when someone rich says they’re calling a lawyer.”
Despite everything, Henry almost smiled.
“You’ve met many rich people?”
“Enough.”
Nora made a soft sound.
Mason looked down immediately, but this time Henry moved first.
“Let me try.”
The boy studied him for a moment, then carefully transferred Nora into his arms.
Henry held her the way Mason had—upright against his chest, one hand supporting her head, the other resting lightly across her back.
“Not so stiff,” Mason said.
“I’m not stiff.”
“You look like you’re holding something that might explode.”
Henry loosened his shoulders.
“Better?”
“A little.”
Nora’s eyes opened.
Henry expected her to cry, but she stared up at him, wide-eyed and solemn.
“She knows you,” Mason said.
“I’m her father.”
“That isn’t always the same thing.”
The words were quiet, almost absentminded, but Henry heard the meaning behind them.
“Did you know your father?”
Mason shook his head.
“My mother said he died before Grace was born.”
“What was his name?”
“She never told me.”
“That didn’t bother you?”
“It bothered me every day.”
The honesty in his answer silenced Henry.
His phone vibrated.
Mara had replied.
Where are you?
Henry typed back.
On Claire’s Zurich flight. Mason is here.
The answer came almost immediately.
Do not let him leave when you land. Anna Adler is a notary Claire retained last year. There is a sealed file. Claire instructed that it could only be opened if you and Mason were present together.
Henry read the message twice.
Then he handed the phone to Mason.
The boy’s face changed as he read.
“She planned this,” Mason said.
“It appears so.”
“Then why didn’t she tell either of us?”
Henry looked at the photograph.
“Maybe she was afraid.”
“Of you?”
