Sarah took the message to Ashby directly.

Genevieve heard nothing for three hours.

Daniel sat with her through the afternoon.

He brought food she didn't eat and coffee she drank too fast.

He talked about small things — their mother's garden, a film he'd seen, nothing that mattered — and she understood that he was doing it on purpose, filling the silence so her mind had somewhere to rest.

At 4:40, Sarah called.

"They stopped him at the airport," she said.

Genevieve's hand tightened on the phone.

"Julian?"

"He had two bags.

A one-way ticket to Lisbon.

The warrant was executed at the gate." A pause.

"He's in custody."

Daniel looked up from across the room.

Genevieve gave him a single nod.

He put his face in his hands.

"Eleanor?" Genevieve asked.

"Still at the family home.

She hasn't been charged yet, but she's a person of interest.

The sl@pping incident is on camera.

Her statements in that room are on your recording.

Her attorney will be very busy." Sarah's voice was measured, not triumphant.

"The emergency custody filing has been withdrawn.

Julian's attorney dropped it within twenty minutes of the arrest."

"And the accounts?

My mother's money?"

"Frozen.

Both yours and the ones connected to Julian's company.

That's standard during a fraud investigation.

It means he can't touch them.

It also means you can't access them immediately, but we'll file to have your personal accounts released.

That should take a few days, not weeks."

"Okay."

"Genevieve." Sarah paused.

"Are you alright?"

She thought about the question honestly.

"I don't know yet," she said.

"Ask me again in a week."

"Fair enough."

She hung up.

Daniel crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed carefully, the way he used to when they were children and she was sick and he would come in without being asked.

"It's done?" he said.

"He's in custody."

Daniel nodded slowly.

He didn't say anything for a moment.

Then: "Mum would have been furious."

"She would have been terrifying," Genevieve said.

"She would have shown up at the airport herself."

Genevieve laughed.

It surprised her — the sound of it, genuine and sudden in the quiet room.

Daniel laughed too, and then they were both quiet again, and the monitor beeped, and the baby made a small sound, and outside the window the late afternoon light was going gold.

"What happens now?" Daniel asked.

"Now I get better," she said.

"And I take her home."

"To the house?"

"Mum's house.

My house." She looked at the bassinet.

"Our house."

Daniel looked at his niece.

"She still doesn't have a name."

"I know."

"Have you decided?"

Genevieve had been thinking about it since the night before.

Through the messages and the calls and the warrant and the long terrible hours of waiting.

The name had been there the whole time, quiet and certain, the same way the baby's fingers curled around hers.

"Margaret," she said.

"After Mum."

Daniel's throat moved.

He looked away for a moment.

"Mum would have cried," he said.

"She would have denied it."

"And then cried anyway."

They sat together in the fading light.

The baby — Margaret — slept on.