Before anyone could react, she slipped from Talia’s grasp and crawled across the marble floor toward him, grabbing the fabric of his pants and looking up with a sound that was almost a plea. Matthew knelt and lifted her again, his composure finally cracking as she settled against him without protest.
That was when Denise Fowler appeared. Her heels echoed against the floor as she approached, her posture rigid, her eyes calculating. She had been Matthew’s legal advisor for years, trusted, respected, and deeply accustomed to control.
“What is going on,” she asked sharply.
“Nothing,” Matthew replied, rising with Ava resting against his chest. “She was crying.”
Denise’s gaze flicked from the baby to Talia. “And why is an employee’s child in your arms.”
“She stopped crying when I held her,” Matthew said simply.
Denise stepped closer, studying the baby with open suspicion. “And this child belongs to.”
“She is mine,” Talia said softly.
Denise smiled, though the expression held no warmth. “How interesting.”
Matthew felt Ava clutch the medal again, the metal cool against his fingers, the memories relentless.