TERMS OF TEMPORARY PEACE
1329 Words
At three in the morning, I sat across from the man who had ruined my life and negotiated who would change Lily’s diapers.
Rachel had taken over the small table in the hospital family suite. Her laptop sat between two stacks of court documents, while an untouched cup of coffee cooled beside her elbow.
Adrian occupied the chair opposite me. He had removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to his forearms, but the less formal appearance did nothing to make him seem approachable.
A Vale remained a Vale, even without the armour.
Lily slept in the crib beside us with Pip, her red fox, tucked beneath one arm.
Rachel opened a blank document. “Judge Shaw wants a workable preliminary plan by eight. We have less than five hours.”
“There is no workable plan,” I said. “Adrian travels constantly, and I have clients who depend on me.”
Adrian glanced at the court calendar displayed on Rachel’s screen. “You have three hearings next week.”
I stared at him. “Why do you know that?”
“Court schedules are public.”
“You searched my schedule?”
“I needed to know whether you could provide daily care.”
“And did your investigation include my grocery purchases and sleeping habits?”
“Not yet.”
Rachel closed her eyes briefly. “This is precisely what the judge cannot see tomorrow.”
I folded my arms. “He started it.”
Adrian’s mouth moved as though he was suppressing a response.
Rachel pointed toward Lily’s crib. “She is the only person whose needs matter tonight. Build the plan around her.”
That silenced us.
I took a sheet of paper and wrote Lily’s name across the top.
“She wakes between six and six-thirty,” I said. “Breakfast at seven. Usually oatmeal, banana or scrambled egg, depending on what Nora prepared.”
Adrian took out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking notes.”
“You don’t know how to care for a baby?”
“No.”
The direct admission surprised me.
He continued typing. “But I can learn.”
I looked toward Lily. “She usually naps around nine-thirty and again after lunch. Her daycare is near Nora’s apartment, but we can’t assume it’s secure after what happened.”
“I’ll arrange protection.”
“You will discuss protection with me before arranging anything.”
“If there’s an immediate threat, I won’t wait for a committee meeting.”
“And that is exactly why I don’t trust you.”
His eyes lifted from the phone. “Your distrust does not make danger less urgent.”
“Your wealth does not give you sole authority.”
Rachel began typing again. “Shared decision-making except during genuine emergencies. The acting guardian must notify the other as soon as safely possible.”
Neither of us objected.
It was the first rule on which we agreed.
We moved through feeding, bathing, medical appointments and childcare. Every subject became a small war.
Adrian wanted a private nurse.
I insisted Lily needed familiar routines, not an employee who changed every twelve hours.
He proposed a secure vehicle and driver.
I agreed only if I could approve the company and retain independent access to the route records.
He wanted his security team at Bellhaven House.
I demanded background checks from an outside firm.
“You assume everyone employed by me is compromised,” he said.
“I assume Nora died while investigating people connected to your company.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m not accusing every employee,” I continued. “I’m refusing to hand Lily’s safety entirely to the organisation at the centre of Nora’s investigation.”
Rachel stopped typing.
Adrian looked at me for several seconds before nodding once.
“Independent screening,” he said. “But I choose the head of security.”
“We choose together.”
“Elena—”
“Together.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Fine.”
The word sounded as though it had physically injured him.
I wrote another heading.
FINANCES.
“I’ll cover Lily’s ordinary expenses,” I said.
Adrian looked almost offended. “That is unnecessary.”
“It is necessary to me.”
“Nora established a trust for her care.”
“We don’t know what restrictions are attached to it.”
“Then I’ll pay until we do.”
“No.”
Rachel lifted a hand before the argument could begin again. “Neither of you should personally control the other through Lily’s expenses. We’ll establish a transparent guardianship account funded by the trust. Both of you will receive statements, and significant withdrawals will require dual approval.”
I nodded.
Adrian did the same.
Second agreement.
It felt more unsettling than the fighting.
Lily made a soft sound in the crib.
I rose immediately, but Adrian was already standing.
We stopped beside each other.
Lily’s eyes remained closed. She moved her head restlessly and kicked beneath the blanket.
“She may be hungry,” I whispered.
“When did she last eat?”
“Just before midnight.”
Adrian checked the feeding schedule we had written. “Nora’s notes say she sometimes wakes for a bottle after three.”
“You read Nora’s childcare notes?”
“Rachel sent them to both of us.”
He walked toward the small counter where the nurse had placed prepared formula. Before touching anything, he washed his hands and studied the warming instructions twice.
I watched him test the bottle against the inside of his wrist.
“You’ve done that before,” I said.
“No.”
“Then how did you know?”
“I read the instructions.”
Of course he had.
Adrian Vale probably approached infant formula as though it were a corporate acquisition.
Lily woke before the bottle was ready. Her face tightened, and a cry filled the room.
I reached into the crib.
Adrian stepped back without argument and allowed me to lift her.
That small restraint registered more deeply than it should have.
I settled into the chair and accepted the bottle from him. Lily drank eagerly, her fingers curling around one of mine.
Adrian stood nearby, watching her.
“Sit down,” I said.
He looked at me as if he suspected a trap.
“You’re making the room tense.”
“I wasn’t aware a ten-month-old could assess tension.”
“She can.”
He sat in the chair beside me, leaving a careful distance between us.
For several minutes, there was no court case, no scandal and no hatred. Only the quiet sound of Lily drinking while rain tapped against the window.
“She looks like Nora,” Adrian said.
“Her eyes are Daniel’s.”
“I met him once.”
I turned toward him. “When?”
“At a Vale Foundation event. He spent twenty minutes explaining why our childcare grants were designed for publicity rather than actual families.”
Despite myself, I smiled faintly. “That sounds like Daniel.”
“He was right.”
I studied Adrian’s profile.
Three years ago, he would never have admitted that publicly funded generosity could hide corporate vanity. Perhaps he had changed.
Or perhaps exhaustion was making me reckless.
My phone rang on the table.
The hospital number appeared on the screen.
I answered quietly. “Elena Hart.”
A woman introduced herself as the overnight administrator.
“I’m calling regarding Lily Bennett’s medical file,” she said. “Our security system flagged an unsuccessful remote-access attempt approximately fifteen minutes ago.”
I tightened my hold on the bottle.
“Who attempted it?”
“We don’t know yet. The credentials belonged to Nora Bennett.”
Every trace of warmth left the room.
Adrian was already on his feet.
The administrator continued, “Ms. Hart, someone used a dead woman’s account to search for Lily’s records.”
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