Lawyer. The kind that didn't carry a briefcase because all his work lived in his head.
They went into the locked study - the one I had no access to - and didn't come out for three hours.
I wasn't supposed to hear anything.
The east corridor carried sound in a way the architect probably didn't intend.
Fragments.
Voss: "- the longer this continues the more exposure-"
Roman: "I know the risk."
Voss: "If she ever-"
Roman: "She won't."
Voss: "You don't know that. You can't control-"
Roman: "I will find a way!."
Silence.
Then Voss, lower: "The records are sealed. They've been sealed for four years. But sealed doesn't mean gone. It means nobody has looked yet."
Then nothing. Footsteps moving away from the door.
I walked back down the corridor before Voss came out.
Sat at my desk.
I opened a spreadsheet I wasn't reading.
Sealed records.
Four years.
My son was four years old.
---
I called Jade that night from my bathroom with the water running.
"I need you to find something for me," I said.
"Chloe-"
"Nothing illegal. I need you to find a name. A law firm. Anything connected to a closed adoption four years ago. The agency was called Vantage Placements. They were shut down two years after - some regulatory thing, I never found out what."
Jade went quiet.
She knew about the baby. She was the only person who did.
"What's going on?" she said.
"I don't know yet."
"Chloe."
"Please, Jade."
A long pause.
"I'll call you tomorrow," she said.
---
He found me at midnight.
Not in a dramatic way. I was in the kitchen - I couldn't sleep, I was hungry, I was trying to be a normal person - and he walked in at 12:15 in dark trousers and a grey top and stopped when he saw me.
We looked at each other.
"You're awake," he said.
"You're awake," I said.
He moved to the counter. Filled a glass. Stood across from me.
Two people in a large kitchen in the middle of the night not saying anything real.
"You've been quiet today," he said.
"I'm always quiet."
"Not like this."
I looked at him.
In the low kitchen light his face was less sealed than usual. Not like the Ashford - not broken open. Just - less defended. Like the middle of the night allowed him something the daylight didn't.
I wanted to ask him.
I almost did.
Four years ago, were you with someone? A girl who was young and alone and in no position to fight anything? Did you know? Did you even know she existed?
"Mr. Hale," I started.
"Roman," he said. Third time he'd corrected it.
"Roman." His name felt strange in my mouth. Like something borrowed. "The sealed records Voss mentioned-"
The glass stopped halfway to his mouth.
The kitchen went very still.
He set the glass down slowly.
"You heard that," he said.
"The corridor carries sound."
He looked at me. Something behind his eyes was moving fast.
"That conversation doesn't concern you," he said.
"Okay."
"Chloe."
The first time he used my name.
Not Miss Banks.
My name.
Something about it hit me somewhere stupid.
"I said okay," I said.
He studied my face for a long moment.
Then: "Go to sleep."
I went.
But I stood outside my bedroom door for a moment with my hand on the wall.
Sealed records.
A boy with my eyes.
A man who had researched my entire life before I ever walked through his door.
None of this was coincidence.
None of it.
---
My phone buzzed at 2am.
Jade.
A message, not a call.
"Vantage Placements wasn't shut down for regulatory issues. It was shut down because of a fraud investigation. Specifically - illegal closed adoptions arranged privately through corporate sponsors. One corporate entity flagged repeatedly in the filing."
I stared at the screen.
"What entity?" I typed back.
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
"Hale Group, Chloe. It was the Hale Group."
I read it three times.
Put the phone down on the bed.
I looked at the ceiling.
He didn't just know about me.
He had been involved in it.
In all of it.
From the beginning.