The Midnight Vow

The Courthouse.

Six fifty five.

The car is black, low, and quiet in the way expensive things are quiet. Bastien is at the wheel. Rafael is in the back seat with me. Hadrien is in the front passenger seat with a tablet in his lap and a phone against his ear.

"No," Hadrien is saying into the phone. "He is unavailable tonight. He will not be reachable until tomorrow. No. Do not put it through to the assistant. The assistant is unavailable as well. Goodnight."

He ends the call. He starts another.

The city slides past the window. The sky is the color of a bruise that has been there a few days. The lights are coming on along the avenue.

"Sabine," Rafael says. His voice is low. He is not looking at me. He is looking at the window. "You should call Pilar."

"She is in surgery."

"She is out in twenty minutes. You should be the one she hears it from."

I look at him. "How do you know what time her surgery ends."

"I had her schedule pulled when I had your schedule pulled."

"When did you have my schedule pulled."

"Two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago is when my grandfather died."

"Yes."

I do not have words for this. I take out my phone instead. I do not call. I write. *Out of surgery come find me. Something has happened. I am all right.*

I press send.

Three seconds later my phone rings. I do not even know how she does it. She must have walked out of the operating room holding the phone in her teeth.

"Pilar."

"Sabine. Are you bleeding."

"No."

"Is anyone bleeding."

"No."

"Is anyone going to be bleeding."

"Pilar."

"Tell me the thing."

I look at Rafael. He is looking out the window. He is giving me the room.

"I am getting married tonight."

There is a long silence on the line.

"Sabine."

"Yes."

"Repeat that for me one time."

"I am getting married tonight. In about two hours. At the courthouse. To Rafael Dante Ferreira-Khoury."

Another silence.

"The one your grandfather always wanted you to marry."

"Yes."

"The one you have not allowed yourself to say out loud in three years."

"Yes."

"Sabine."

"Yes."

"Are you under duress."

"No."

"Are you certain."

"Yes."

"Is he in the car right now."

"Yes."

"Put him on the phone."

"Pilar."

"Put him on the phone, Sabine. Now."

I lower the phone. "She wants to speak to you."

Rafael takes the phone. He does not look surprised. He looks like a man who has been expecting this.

"Dr Soto-Renwick," he says.

I can hear her voice. I cannot make out the words.

"Yes," he says. "Yes. No. No, she is not. Yes. I am aware. Yes, I do. Yes, I will. No. No. Yes. Yes. You have my word."

He hands the phone back. I put it to my ear.

"What did he just promise you."

"Several things. One of them is that if you are not happy at any point in the next year he will not lift a finger to keep you. Another is that he will not lay a hand on you that you have not asked for. Another is that he will give me his personal phone number at the end of this call and answer any time of day or night for the rest of his life if I am calling about you. Sabine."

"Yes."

"He said yes to all of them without breathing."

I look at him. He is back to the window.

"Sabine."

"Yes."

"I will see you at the courthouse."

"You will not."

"I will see you at the courthouse. I am scrubbing out now. I am the maid of honor. The other surgical resident can handle the post op. I will text you when I am there. I love you. Do not get married before I get there."

She hangs up.

I lower the phone slowly.

"She is coming," I say.

"Of course she is," Rafael says, without turning his head.

Seven oh nine.

Hadrien is on his fourth call. He has not raised his voice once.

"Judge Volkov is confirmed for eight thirty," he says into the phone. "Two witnesses confirmed. Filing window confirmed. Press pool at the building is light tonight, a slow news Tuesday, we have a back entrance. I want a clean lane from car to elevator to chambers and back. Yes. Yes. Two minutes either side."

He ends the call. He turns his head halfway toward the back seat.

"Rafael."

"Yes."

"Tobias Halford Kane left Adelina Quiñones-Mar's office at six twelve. He went to a private club on Sixty Eighth. He is still inside. He has made no calls we can see and one we cannot, on a phone we did not know he had."

"He has a second phone."

"He has a second phone."

"To whom."

"Working on it."

"Dorian."

Hadrien is quiet for half a beat. "Dorian Ashcroft-Lyle left a restaurant on the Upper East Side at six forty one. He got into a car. The car is now eight blocks behind ours."

Rafael does not move.

"He is following us," I say.

"He is following the car he thinks you are in," Rafael says. "He is wrong about which one that is, but he is right that you are with me. Bastien."

"Boss."

"Take Lexington."

"On it."

The car turns. The car behind us, two cars back, does not turn fast enough. I watch through the rear window as the headlights I had not even known to be afraid of slide past the cross street and keep going north.

"How did he know," I say.

"He has a person inside Adelina's office," Rafael says. "He has had a person inside Adelina's office for at least six months. Adelina knows about the person. She has been feeding the person what she wants them to know. The person told him you came to her office at five thirty. The person did not tell him where you went after, because Adelina did not tell the person where you went after."

"Because Adelina called you."

"Yes."

"Adelina."

"Has been my friend for nine years."

I sit with this.

"My grandfather built a quiet web."

"He built a web. He spent the last two years tightening it. I held one corner. Adelina held another. There is a third."

"Who holds the third."

"I will tell you after the wedding."

"Rafael."

"You agreed at six forty seven that I get to keep one or two things until I am sure the marriage is legal. The third corner is one of them. I will tell you tonight. You do not need to know it before the ceremony."

"Why not."

"Because if you knew it before the ceremony you would do something brave and stupid and we would miss the eight thirty slot with Judge Volkov."

I look at him. "What would I do."

He looks at me for the first time since the car started moving. "You would tell me to drop you at the courthouse and you would walk in alone and you would face your uncle alone and you would not let me come in with you. I know you, Sabine. I have known you for nine years. The third corner can wait an hour and seventeen minutes."

I do not answer.

He is right.

I would have.

Seven thirty one.

The car turns into a narrow service street behind the courthouse. Bastien drives like a man who has done this before with a person more valuable than himself in the back seat. He pulls up to a steel door painted the same color as the wall.

"Out," he says. "Boss, you first."

Rafael steps out. He turns. He holds out his hand. He does not move toward me. He waits.

I take his hand.

The first touch since the elevator. His palm is warm and dry. His fingers close around mine. He does not squeeze. He just holds.

He helps me out of the car the way you help someone whose ankle you do not yet trust. Not because he thinks I will fall. Because he is buying himself the right to keep his hand on me from the car to the door.

The steel door opens before we reach it. A man in a court officer's uniform holds it. He nods at Rafael. He nods at me. He does not speak.

We go in.

The corridor inside is concrete and bright and smells like old paper. Hadrien is already two steps ahead of us. Bastien has fallen in behind. We walk in a small tight formation toward an elevator at the end of the hall. The elevator doors open as we approach because Hadrien has called it from his phone.

We get in.

Rafael lets go of my hand.

I miss it immediately.

I do not say so.

"Fourth floor," Hadrien says.

The doors close.

"Sabine."

"Yes."

"In about twelve minutes you are going to walk into a small wood paneled room and stand in front of a woman in a black robe and you are going to say two sentences and sign two pieces of paper. That is the whole thing. Anything else that happens in that room is theater. The two sentences and the two signatures are the law. Do you understand."

"Yes."

"If your uncle arrives, he will not be allowed in the room."

"Why not."

"Because the room is private chambers and the judge controls who is in it. Judge Volkov is not letting him in. She does not like him. She has not liked him since 2019 when he tried to bribe her clerk on a different matter and the clerk reported it. She has been waiting."

"My grandfather knew."

"Your grandfather chose her."

The doors open.

Seven forty four.

The chambers of the Honorable Renata Volkov are small. There is a desk. There are two leather chairs. There is a window that looks out at the back of another building. There is a flag in a stand and a framed law degree on the wall. There is a woman in a black robe behind the desk.

She is sixty something. Her hair is steel gray and pinned up in a way that says she has been pinning it the same way for forty years. Her eyes are very pale and very awake.

"Mr Ferreira-Khoury."

"Judge."

"And this is the bride."

"Sabine Marchetti Kane," I say.

"I knew your grandfather," she says. She does not stand. She does not soften. "He was one of the few honest men this city has produced in my lifetime. I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"Sit."

I sit.

"We have time," she says. "I do not perform a wedding on a clock. The certificate must be filed before twelve. The ceremony itself is at my discretion. I will not be rushed. Are you certain of what you are doing here tonight."

"Yes."

"Look at me when you say it."

I look at her.

"Yes."

She looks at me for a long moment.

"And you, Mr Ferreira-Khoury."

"Yes."

"You understand that I will be asked, possibly under oath, by counsel for the other party in any subsequent litigation, whether the bride was acting under duress."

"I understand."

"You understand that I will tell the truth when I am asked."

"I expect nothing else."

"Good." She turns back to me. "Ms Kane. Are you acting under duress."

"No."

"Are you acting under the influence of any substance."

"No."

"Are you of sound mind."

"Yes."

"Do you know the man beside you."

I look at Rafael.

"Yes."

"How long have you known him."

"Nine years."

"How long has he loved you."

I stop.

She is looking at me with those pale eyes.

"Nine years," I say.

"And how long have you loved him."

I open my mouth.

I close it.

I look at her.

"Judge Volkov."

"Yes."

"I do not know yet."

She nods, slowly.

"That is the most honest answer I have ever been given in this chair," she says. "We can proceed."

She stands.

She is shorter than I expected. She is also somehow taller.

"Witnesses," she says.

The door opens.

Pilar walks in.

Her hair is still wet from the shower at the hospital. She is in jeans and a coat that does not match the jeans and a pair of sneakers and her eyes are bright and furious and full of love.

"Sorry I am late," she says. "Traffic. Surgery. Existential crisis on the way over. Hello Sabine."

"Pilar."

She walks straight to me. She takes my face in both her hands. She looks at me for a long moment. She looks at Rafael over my shoulder. She looks back at me.

"You are sure."

"I am sure."

She kisses my forehead.

"Then let us get you married."

Bastien steps inside. He closes the door behind him.

"Two witnesses present," Judge Volkov says. She picks up a thin folded sheet from her desk. She puts on a pair of reading glasses. "We will begin."

I stand up.

Rafael stands beside me.

He does not take my hand yet. He is waiting for the judge to tell him to.

The clock on the judge's wall says seven forty eight.

The door behind us opens again.

It is not a knock.

It is the door opening.

I turn.

Dorian Ashcroft-Lyle is standing in the doorway of Judge Volkov's chambers with a security detail of three men behind him and a folded piece of paper in his hand and a smile that does not reach his eyes.

"I am sorry to interrupt," he says, in the voice of a man who is not sorry at all. "But I am afraid this wedding cannot proceed."