Chapter 3 - NO LAWYERS
Z
At 7:10 the next morning, Violet heard knocking.
She was awake.
Technically.
Celeste had slept for ninety-three minutes in total.
Violet shuffled across her apartment wearing pajama pants and one of her brother's old college sweatshirts.
She opened the door.
Beckett Valiant stood in the hallway.
In jeans.
Violet blinked.
She had known Beckett for almost four years and had seen him in jeans perhaps six times.
He held two coffees and a paper bag.
"What are you doing here?"
"Breakfast."
"It's seven in the morning."
"I know."
"How?"
"Clocks."
She glared.
Beckett looked almost pleased.
Then Celeste cried from the bedroom.
Every trace of amusement disappeared from his face.
"Is she okay?"
"She's hungry."
He immediately stepped forward.
Violet blocked the doorway.
"Beckett."
He stopped.
"You don't get to walk into my home whenever you want."
His jaw tightened.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
Violet hadn't expected that.
"I should have called."
"You called fourteen times last night."
"Thirteen."
"That doesn't improve the situation."
"I wanted to know whether she was sleeping."
"She wasn't."
"Neither was I."
Violet studied him.
He looked terrible.
Not physically.
Beckett could probably survive a plane crash and emerge with his hair properly styled.
But his eyes were bloodshot.
"You stayed awake?"
"I kept thinking about her breathing."
Violet's anger softened despite herself.
She stepped aside.
"Come in."
Beckett entered.
Her apartment was perhaps one-tenth the size of his penthouse.
Used furniture.
Secondhand dining table.
Baby bottles drying beside the sink.
An unopened electricity bill sat underneath a magnet.
Beckett saw it.
Violet saw him see it.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were thinking very loudly."
Celeste cried again.
Violet walked toward the bedroom.
Beckett followed, then stopped at the doorway.
"Can I come in?"
That mattered.
More than Violet wanted it to.
"Yes."
She picked Celeste up.
"She's hungry every two to three hours."
"I read that."
"You read what?"
"Three books."
Violet stared.
"Since yesterday?"
"And several medical studies on premature neonatal respiratory development."
"Of course you did."
His gaze moved toward Celeste.
"Can I feed her?"
Violet hesitated.
Celeste used bottles because nursing had become difficult after the NICU stay.
There was no practical reason to say no.
Emotionally, however, it felt enormous.
She prepared the bottle.
"Sit down."
Beckett sat in the old rocking chair beside the window.
Violet placed Celeste carefully into his arms.
His entire body stiffened.
"Relax."
"I am relaxed."
"You look like you're holding a live grenade."
"Live grenades weigh more."
Violet laughed before she could stop herself.
Beckett looked up.
For one second they were who they had been.
Then Celeste opened her mouth impatiently.
"Right."
Violet guided the bottle.
"Keep her head higher."
"Like this?"
"Yes."
He watched Celeste drink.
The billionaire vanished.
There was no CEO in the room.
Only a man looking terrified by how much he already loved something.
"She makes that little noise when she eats," he whispered.
"I know."
"Does she always?"
"Usually."
He smiled.
Violet hadn't seen that smile in seven months.
Her chest hurt.
Halfway through the bottle, Beckett spoke.
"I haven't contacted an attorney."
Violet's body tensed.
"I assumed you would."
"I considered it."
"Of course."
"For approximately six minutes."
She folded her arms.
"What changed?"
"I realized the moment I involve litigation, you will assume I'm trying to take her."
"Are you?"
His face hardened.
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
"To be legally recognized as her father."
Violet looked away.
"That's reasonable."
"I want shared responsibility for her medical expenses."
"I can handle—"
"I didn't say you couldn't."
His tone sharpened.
Then softened again.
"I am her parent too."
Violet swallowed.
"Anything else?"
"Time."
Her eyes returned to him.
"With her."
Beckett looked down at Celeste.
"However much you're comfortable giving me initially."
"Initially?"
"I'm hoping you become more comfortable."
Despite everything, Violet felt something shift.
He wasn't demanding fifty-fifty custody.
He wasn't mentioning his legal power.
He was asking.
"Supervised visits," she said.
Beckett looked up sharply.
"Supervised?"
"You met her yesterday."
"I'm her father."
"Biologically."
His jaw flexed.
Violet continued.
"Emotionally, you're a stranger."
The words clearly hurt.
She almost apologized.
Then reminded herself she wasn't wrong.
Beckett looked down.
"Okay."
Violet blinked.
"Okay?"
"Supervised."
"You agree?"
"For now."
She narrowed her eyes.
"What does 'for now' mean?"
"It means I intend to become someone you don't believe needs supervision."
That answer disarmed her.
Celeste finished the bottle.
Beckett looked alarmed.
"Now what?"
"Burp her."
"How?"
Violet demonstrated.
Five minutes later, Celeste released an astonishingly loud burp.
Beckett stared at the infant.
Violet covered her mouth.
"Did she just—"
"Yes."
"She's eight pounds."
"Seven pounds, eleven ounces."
"That sound was physically impossible."
Violet laughed.
Actually laughed.
Celeste blinked up at Beckett.
He smiled down at her.
Then there was a knock at the apartment door.
Violet frowned.
"I wasn't expecting anyone."
Beckett's expression changed instantly.
Protective.
He stood with Celeste still against his chest.
"I'll get it."
"No, you won't."
They walked together.
Violet opened the door.
A courier stood outside holding a white envelope.
"Violet Laru?"
"Yes."
"Certified delivery."
She signed.
The envelope bore the embossed crest of a law firm she recognized instantly.
Valiant & Pierce.
Beckett recognized it too.
His family's attorneys.
Violet slowly looked at him.
"I thought you said no lawyers."
"I didn't send that."
Her face hardened.
She ripped open the envelope.
The first line was enough.
NOTICE OF PATERNITY AND CUSTODIAL INTEREST.
Violet's hands began to shake.
Beckett took the document.
His expression turned cold.
Very cold.
At the bottom of the letter was a familiar signature.
Eleanor Valiant.
May you like
Beckett's mother had made her first move.
And she had done it without her son's permission.
