They arrived at nine-fourteen.

Two attorneys from Hargrove & Voss — Julian's firm of choice for eleven years, the same firm that had represented him in the divorce mediation.

Elena's own attorney, Grace Okafor, was already in the room.

She had arrived at eight-thirty with a container of soup from the place on Lexington that Elena had mentioned once, eight months ago, and Grace had apparently filed away.

Grace set the soup on the windowsill.

"They'll try to reframe the transcript first.

Then they'll argue the recording is prejudicial.

Then one of them will suggest a private settlement and act like it's a favor."

"In that order?" Elena asked.

"Give or take." Grace opened her folder.

"Richard Sterling's acknowledgment was filed with the trust administrator at six this morning.

It's already registered.

They cannot unfile it."

The two Hargrove attorneys came in without knocking.

The lead one was named Prescott — Elena remembered him from mediation.

He had a handshake like a closing argument and a habit of addressing the air slightly above a woman's head.

"Ms.

Vasquez," Prescott said.

Grace's name was on the door placard.

He was looking at Elena.

"I'm Grace Okafor," Grace said.

"Elena's counsel.

You can address me."

Prescott recalibrated smoothly.

"We're here to discuss a path forward that protects all parties, including the child."

"The child has a name," Elena said.

Prescott glanced at her.

"Of course.

We'd like to propose a private acknowledgment of paternity paired with a confidential support agreement.

Generous terms.

No public filing.

Clean and quiet for everyone."

"My client has no interest in clean and quiet," Grace said.

"She has interest in accurate and legal.

The paternity will be filed publicly.

The support arrangement will be court-supervised."

"That exposes the child to—"

"To having a documented legal father and enforceable financial support?

Yes.

We're comfortable with that exposure."

Prescott set a folder on the bed tray.

"Mr.

Sterling is prepared to offer—"

"Before you finish that sentence," Grace said, "you should know that we filed a motion this morning to reopen the mediation record on the basis of perjured testimony.

Specifically, the infertility claim.

We have the original medical documentation, the physician's amended statement — which he provided voluntarily once we contacted him — and the certified transcript."

Prescott's second chair stopped writing.

"The physician amended his statement?" Prescott said.

"Voluntarily," Grace repeated.

"Apparently his conscience caught up with him.

Or possibly his malpractice insurer.

Either way, it's filed."

The folder stayed on the tray.

Prescott didn't open it.

Julian appeared in the doorway.

He had changed out of the wedding suit.

He looked like a man who had not slept.

He looked at Elena and then at Grace and then at the folder his own attorney had failed to place.

"Julian," Prescott said carefully.

"We discussed waiting outside—"

"I know what we discussed." Julian walked in.

He stopped at the foot of the bed.

He looked at the baby in the bassinet beside Elena — the hospital had moved him there an hour ago, and he lay on his back with his arms raised in that particular way newborns have, as if they are perpetually surprised by the size of the world.

Julian looked at him for a long time.

"What did you name him?" he asked.

"Thomas," Elena said.

"Thomas Richard."

Julian's expression did something complicated.

He looked at his father's name sitting in the middle of his son's name and said nothing for several seconds.

"That wasn't a negotiation tactic," Elena said.

"I decided last night.

Before any of this."

Julian nodded slowly.

He looked at Prescott.

"Give us the room."

"Julian, I strongly advise—"

"Give us the room."