Chapter 6 - What Pride Cost Her
The first argument about money began with a pharmacy receipt. Elizabeth had left it on the kitchen counter while making Josie's lunch. Daniel noticed the amount only because she'd asked him to hold the paper out of reach of a particularly determined baby. He saw a charge for a medicine he'd assumed insurance would cover, followed by a note in Elizabeth's handwriting: Ask about cheaper option next month.
"Is this for Josie?" he asked.
"Yes. She's fine. The doctor just wanted us to keep it available in case her seasonal cough returns."
"Why are you looking for a cheaper option?"
Elizabeth took the receipt from him. "Because I compare prices. Most people do."
He regretted the question immediately. In their old life, he'd asked the same kind of thing when she bought used furniture or planned a budget. He'd treated careful spending as evidence she was worrying unnecessarily rather than as evidence she understood a world he'd insulated himself from.
"Sorry," he said. "That came out badly."
"It did."
He waited. She folded the receipt and put it in a drawer.
"I'd like to contribute to her expenses," Daniel said finally. "Properly. Not by examining your receipts. I owe support regardless of whether we ever become friends again."
Elizabeth sat opposite him. "I don't want a transfer that comes with a lecture about where I live or who watches my daughter."
"Then we make an agreement neither of us can turn into a weapon. You pick the attorney. We write down everything."
"Everything?"
"Support, medical coverage, reasonable visitation, how we resolve disagreements. If you're worried about my legal team, we don't use them."
She studied him. "You understand that I may disagree with you about what reasonable looks like."
"I'm beginning to understand you disagree with me about an impressive range of things."
"Don't flirt your way out of a difficult conversation."
"I wasn't trying to. It's just nice hearing you talk to me instead of through a locked door."
That sentence stayed with her after he left. Later, she called Nina, who recommended a family attorney known for helping parents reach practical agreements. Elizabeth arranged the meeting herself. Daniel attended without bringing his corporate counsel. He answered uncomfortable questions about his travel schedule, his living arrangements, and his ability to keep a regular routine. Elizabeth found herself surprised by the ease with which he accepted conditions he might once have treated as an insult.
The attorney made one point particularly clear: the money was Josie's, not a prize Elizabeth won for allowing access. They agreed on monthly support and an account dedicated to education and health needs. Daniel would help cover childcare costs, but Elizabeth would choose childcare providers. As Josie grew older, they would revisit the schedule with her needs at the center. Elizabeth insisted those commitments be put in writing. Daniel agreed.
It should have relieved her completely. Instead, she went home furious at the part of herself that wished she hadn't needed the help at all.
The next week, her rent increase took effect. She stood in the apartment doorway, studying the unreliable heater, and finally admitted that a better home would help Josie. Daniel offered to arrange a luxury rental with a concierge. Elizabeth refused. Two days later, she brought him three listings in ordinary neighborhoods near her friends and Josie's pediatrician. One had a small balcony, reliable heat, and a playground across the street.
"This one," Elizabeth said. "But the lease goes in my name. I pay what I can afford. Your support doesn't become a reason to monitor my life."
Daniel looked at the apartment photographs. "This is a good choice."
She folded her arms. "That's not the reaction I rehearsed arguing against."
"I'm trying not to give you material."
Moving day arrived with too many boxes and one spectacularly unhelpful toddler who believed packing tape existed for her personal enjoyment. Nina brought sandwiches. Michael carried the heaviest furniture. Daniel hired movers only after Elizabeth approved the cost, then spent an hour assembling a bookshelf without checking his phone. When Josie fell asleep in her new room, Elizabeth stood in the doorway while Daniel tightened the last screw.
"I don't know how to thank you," she said.
"You don't owe me thanks for taking responsibility."
"That's a very inconveniently mature answer."
He grinned. "I've been practicing."
Elizabeth began looking for work again. During a restaurant shift, she helped Mrs. Alvarez, the owner of Calder House, untangle a vendor invoice that had been entered twice. What looked like a small bookkeeping mistake turned out to be three months of duplicate charges from a company neither woman recognized. Mrs. Alvarez stared at Elizabeth's calculations.
"You studied business?"
"Operations and accounting. A long time ago."
"Not long enough to forget this. Can you help me sort the rest? I'll pay you for the hours."
Elizabeth accepted, pleased to use skills she feared employers had stopped seeing. She spent evenings building a clear spreadsheet from invoices and supply records. The work felt like recovering a room inside herself that she'd boarded up years earlier.
One discrepancy bothered her. The duplicate charges came from a property management company with an unfamiliar name, North Pier Holdings, and the owner of Calder House insisted she'd never hired it. Elizabeth highlighted the entries and asked Mrs. Alvarez to request supporting contracts. Then she went home to prepare Josie's dinner, unaware that the company's name appeared in a draft merger portfolio on Daniel's desk.
At his office the following morning, Daniel asked Adrian why North Pier Holdings had acquired options on several small restaurants in Calder House's neighborhood.
"Redevelopment opportunity," Adrian answered. "The Hensleys want a cleaner collection of luxury sites. Some tenants will move. That's business."
Daniel opened the location map. A red boundary enclosed Calder House.
"That place isn't just a tenant," he said. "It's a functioning restaurant. People work there."
Adrian gave him a look of theatrical sympathy. "You cannot save every sentimental storefront in Chicago, Daniel. Not if you want the merger."
May you like
Daniel said nothing. He remembered Elizabeth carrying trays, Mrs. Alvarez lending her a child seat, and the little girl who'd watched him across a room full of people discussing profits. He had promised Elizabeth his money would never become leverage. Now he realized the company he'd built might have its own hands around her future.
He closed the file and requested the full acquisition documents. Adrian's smile disappeared, and Daniel understood he'd just asked a question his partner had hoped he would never think to ask.
