Chapter 13 - When the Board Learned About Celeste
Celeste left the hospital on Saturday morning.
Beckett had arranged one discreet SUV.
Violet noticed.
“One?”
He looked confused.
“Yes.”
“No security convoy?”
“There's another car behind us.”
She looked back.
“Beckett.”
“You said discreet.”
“You consider two armored vehicles discreet?”
“The second one isn't armored.”
“That does not make this better.”
He smiled.
Progress.
The penthouse looked almost exactly as Violet remembered.
That was the problem.
Her books remained on one shelf.
Her blue mug remained in the kitchen.
A photograph of the two of them in Maine still sat on a side table.
She stared at it.
“You kept that?”
“I kept everything.”
“Why?”
Beckett looked uncomfortable.
“Apparently I’m emotionally unhealthy.”
She laughed.
Then she saw the nursery.
She stopped.
The room was simple.
No extravagant designer furniture.
No absurd toys.
A crib.
A rocking chair.
A changing table.
Soft lamps.
Medical equipment installed exactly as the hospital required.
“You did this overnight?”
“I had help.”
“Beckett.”
“I didn't choose anything decorative.”
She looked at him.
“I thought you should do that.”
The restraint meant more than expensive gifts would have.
“Thank you.”
That first night was chaos.
Celeste cried.
Violet cried from exhaustion.
Beckett heated a bottle too much.
Then too little.
At 3:00 a.m., he accidentally put a diaper on backward.
Violet discovered it and laughed so hard she had to sit down.
“This design is unintuitive.”
“Millions of parents manage.”
“I should buy the manufacturer.”
“Go to sleep.”
At 5:00 a.m., all three were awake again.
Beckett had a board call at eight.
Violet expected him to retreat into his office.
Instead, he joined by video with Celeste asleep against his chest.
Half the board looked stunned.
One director smiled.
“Is that her?”
Beckett glanced down.
“Yes.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
Another director cleared his throat.
“We're discussing corporate governance.”
“I’m aware.”
“Perhaps someone could take the child.”
Beckett's expression cooled.
“She is asleep.”
“This is unusual.”
“So is finding out you have a daughter in a hospital hallway.”
No one argued after that.
Violet listened from the kitchen.
This was not a performance.
Beckett genuinely no longer seemed embarrassed that his personal life existed.
The Arclight merger remained uncertain.
Warren Shaw requested a meeting.
Beckett agreed.
Warren arrived at the penthouse that afternoon.
He was sixty-two, silver-haired, controlled.
He looked at Celeste.
Then at Violet.
“I owe you both an apology.”
Violet stiffened.
“For what?”
“My daughter recommended Madeline as your wedding planner because she believed access to the Vale archives would help uncover what our fathers had hidden.”
Beckett frowned.
“So Madeline was investigating Amelia.”
“Yes.”
“She also allowed someone to use her credentials.”
“Henry stole them.”
Warren looked ashamed.
“My family helped conceal Amelia's existence. Madeline wanted to expose it.”
Violet crossed her arms.
“And while everyone was exposing old secrets, I got threatened.”
Warren nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
Beckett watched him.
“What happens to the merger?”
Warren sighed.
“That depends on you.”
“Why?”
“My board believes your recent personal situation makes you unpredictable.”
Beckett almost smiled.
“They're correct.”
Warren studied him.
“You'd walk away?”
“If the alternative is returning to who I was eight months ago, yes.”
Warren was silent.
Then he smiled.
“Good.”
Beckett frowned.
“Good?”
“I didn't want to merge with your father.”
“He's been dead eleven years.”
“You know what I mean.”
Warren stood.
“I wanted to merge with the man who proved he could build something beyond Richard Vale's shadow.”
He looked toward Celeste.
“Maybe you've finally done that.”
Negotiations resumed under new terms.
More balanced.
Less aggressive.
For the first time, Beckett delegated major authority to Mason.
At home, Violet watched the changes accumulate.
He took night feedings.
He attended pediatric appointments.
He asked before making decisions.
Sometimes.
He failed often.
Once he ordered an entire wall of expensive air filtration equipment without asking.
Violet made him return half of it.
He complained.
Then returned it.
The changes weren't dramatic.
That made them believable.
On the tenth night, Violet found Beckett asleep on the nursery floor beside Celeste's crib.
She covered him with a blanket.
He woke.
“What time is it?”
“Two.”
“Did she wake?”
“No.”
“Then why are you awake?”
“I heard you come in here.”
He sat up.
“Her monitor made a sound.”
“It's fine.”
“I know.”
Violet sat beside him.
“You're afraid.”
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“Constantly.”
She looked toward Celeste.
“Me too.”
Their shoulders touched.
Neither moved away.
Beckett looked at Violet.
For one dangerous second, everything between them resurfaced.
Love.
Regret.
Desire.
Home.
He leaned slightly closer.
Then stopped.
Violet noticed.
“You stopped.”
“You asked for no pressure.”
Her eyes filled.
Of all the things Beckett had done to prove he was changing, stopping might have been the one that mattered most.
She leaned forward.
And kissed him.
Only once.
Brief.
Soft.
When she pulled away, Beckett looked stunned.
“That wasn't permission to resume the engagement.”
“I wasn't going to say anything.”
“You were thinking loudly.”
He smiled.
Violet smiled back.
Neither knew that the following morning, a legal envelope would arrive addressed to Violet Carter.
Inside were custody documents.
May you like
And Beckett's signature appeared on the final page.
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