THE WIFE HE THREW INTO THE PACIFIC CAME HOME FOR HER OWN FUNERAL—AND THE WOMAN HOLDING HIS HAND CALLED HER BABY A MISTAKE

Labor did not care about subpoenas.

I had imagined giving birth in a bright room with music playing and Darius holding my hand. Instead, I lay beneath hospital lights with my mother beside me and a nurse explaining each decision.

The medical team monitored Joy closely because she was early and because of my recent injuries. They discussed options with me without pretending certainty. I signed forms with a trembling hand.

Lorraine brushed damp hair from my forehead.

"Look at me."

"I'm trying."

"Your daddy used to say you could do hard things."

"He never meant this."

"No," she said softly. "He didn't."

I cried through a contraction.

"I hate him."

"You can hate him later. Right now, listen to your nurse."

Hours passed. Patrice remained in the waiting area, handling calls so I wouldn't have to. Detective Reed arranged for hospital security to be informed of the relevant restrictions.

Darius did not enter.

Joy arrived before dawn, small and furious, announcing herself with a thin cry that made every terrible moment before it seem to stop.

"She's here," the doctor said.

I reached for her.

The nurse placed her close enough for me to see her tiny face before the team continued the care she needed. Because she was premature, she required specialized observation.

"Is she okay?" I asked.

"She's receiving the care she needs," the doctor said. "We'll keep you updated."

I wanted a promise. Nobody gave me one.

My mother held my hand while Joy was taken to the neonatal unit. I felt emptied out and fiercely alive.

"She cried," I whispered.

Lorraine nodded.

"She sure did."

"She sounds like Dad when the Falcons lost."

My mother laughed and cried at once.

By afternoon, I was able to visit Joy. She lay beneath warm lights, impossibly small, her fingers opening and closing.

I touched her hand with the nurse's guidance.

"Hi, baby," I said. "I'm your mama."

She curled her fingers.

I sat beside her until my back hurt.

Patrice brought news quietly. Darius had been taken into custody in connection with the attack, subject to the ongoing legal process. The investigation into the financial scheme continued. Tasha was cooperating through counsel. None of it made Joy bigger or stronger. I put the news away.

"There's something else," Patrice said.

I looked up.

"Darius's comment about your father. I asked Elijah to review the old company files."

"And?"

"Your father had been investigating irregularities before his death."

My father had died of a heart attack eight years earlier. He had been sixty-two, exhausted, stubborn, and determined to finish one more production run before going home.

"Are you saying Darius hurt him?"

"No. We don't have evidence of that. But your father left a sealed file with instructions to open it if anyone attempted to transfer the diagnostic patent."

I looked at Joy.

"The patent Darius tried to sell."

"Yes."

"What's in the file?"

"We haven't opened it yet. Elijah wants you present."

I laughed bitterly.

"Of course he does. Everybody wants something from me."

Patrice touched my shoulder.

"Not today. Today you can just be Joy's mother."

I spent the rest of the afternoon in the neonatal unit.

When I returned to my room, Lorraine was waiting with a small box.

Inside lay my father's old wristwatch. He had worn it in the garage when he built the first prototype. The strap was cracked. The face had a scratch across the number six.

"I was saving it for a day you needed him," she said.

I held the watch against my chest.

Then I noticed something taped beneath the box's lining.

A folded note in my father's handwriting.

SIMONE, IF YOU EVER FIND THE BLUE LEDGER, DON'T TRUST THE MAN WHO BROUGHT DARIUS INTO OUR HOME.

I looked at my mother.

"Who introduced Dad to Darius?"