Stella stands by the door, backpack sliding from one shoulder, as Richard and Jessica wait in the foyer.
My chest tightens. Still, my smile holds. “Hi,” I say evenly. “Jessica. I don’t think I’ve seen you since—when was it? Spring?”
She’s impeccable: cream blouse, navy skirt suit, heels that shape her calves, hair blown out, makeup fresh. It’s six-thirty on a Monday.
“Things have been busy,” she says brightly. “You have a beautiful home. We’ve dropped Stella off so many times, but this is the first time I’ve been inside.”
Her gaze drifts across the foyer, over the furniture, the light fixtures, resting on the family photos.
“Stella, would you give your mother and me a minute?—”
“Sure.” She’s gone in a flash, footsteps drumming upstairs.
“See you tomorrow,” Richard calls.
“Homework,” I remind her, calling after her retreating back.
Silence settles, thick, close, and awkward.
I should offer coffee, maybe wine. But hospitality feels like surrender.
“I’m not the bad guy here,” Richard says, repeating the same line he’s been using for years. “I’m concerned for my daughter.”
Of course he is. Always the martyr.
“The security is precautionary,” I reply. “For Stella’s safety.”
Jessica steps forward, expression soft, gaze roaming. “Where is the security, if you don’t mind me asking? I didn’t notice anyone outside.”
“At the moment, downstairs.” Or in the carport. Or anywhere he chooses. “The night detail stays in the guest suite. The day team checks in with me in my office.”
“Smart,” she says. Her gaze flicks toward the keypad. “Is that new? It blends right in.”
“Yes.”
“Good choice.” Her tone is soft, benign, but that contradicts my read on her. “I told Richard you were smart to act after what happened at your office.”
“It wasn’t my office.”
“Of course.” She touches the console table lightly, her manicure catching the light. “Still, it must have been awful. I can’t imagine walking into something like that.”
I press my palm against my thigh to steady it. “We’re fine.”
“You founded Morgan & Company, right?”
“Yes.”
“Crisis management?”
“Among other things.”
“Fascinating,” she says, sweet as honey. “You must know every trick for staying calm under pressure.”
“I’ve learned a few.”
She steps forward as if it’s just the two of us having a friendly conversation and Richard isn’t in the room. “Do you ever represent politicians? Or corporate clients?”
“Sometimes.”