Now there was a baby between them.
Elena set down her suitcase with a soft thud. “Kitchen. Now.”
Caleb looked toward the child.
“He will be fine for three minutes.”
“Elena, there are things you don’t understand.”
“That sentence usually comes right before someone explains why they lied.”
He flinched.
That was all she needed.
In the kitchen, she turned on every light. The marble counters reflected the white glow, making the room look harsher than it had ever looked in daylight. There were signs of the baby everywhere now that she knew where to look: bottles drying near the sink, formula tucked behind the coffee machine, diapers stacked beside the pantry, a small hand-knit blanket folded over a chair.
Not one of those things belonged in their house.
Not without her knowing.
Elena crossed her arms. “How long?”
“Five days.”
Her face did not move, but something inside her did.
“Five days,” she said. “A baby has been in this house for five days.”
“Yes.”
“And you did not call me.”
“I tried.”
“No, Caleb. You may have thought about calling me. But you did not call me.”
He leaned against the counter and rubbed one hand over his face. “He was left outside the side gate.”
Elena stared at him.
“Try again.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“In a house with cameras, guards, coded gates, and a security team that treats delivery drivers like foreign threats, someone left a newborn at the side gate?”
“The camera malfunctioned that night.”
“Our cameras do not malfunction.”
“They did.”
“And the police?”
Caleb’s eyes hardened. “I didn’t call them.”
“Why?”
“Because there was a note.”
“A note from whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is it?”
He looked away.
Elena felt the temperature leave the room.
“You do know.”
“I know enough to understand that whoever left him was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
