CHAPTER 16 — THE FLASH

The flash blinded Leo first.

He flinched in my arms, his small hands grabbing my black dress.

"Mama, lightning!"

It was not lightning. White car. Window down. Long lens.

Rhys moved first. His gallery blazer opened wide like a shield.

"No photos of the child!" he shouted.

Second flash. Third.

Lorenzo did not shout. He walked straight to the white car in the rain. Three steps. Calm.

He knocked on the window. The driver rolled it down, scared.

Lorenzo said something low. I could not hear. He took the camera from the man's hands, removed the memory card, put the camera back. He gave the man cash. A lot.

The car drove away fast.

He walked back to us, the memory card in his fist, and snapped it.

Leo was still in my arms, watching him. Grey eyes to grey eyes.

"Dad broke the lightning?" Leo whispered.

"Yes," Lorenzo said. Not CEO voice. Dad voice. "No more lightning tonight."

Marcus pulled the black SUV to the curb. Fast.

"Get in," Rhys said. "Now."

I got in with Leo. Rhys next to us. Lorenzo in front, next to Marcus. Doors locked. No one spoke.

Leo breathed fast. Nose runny. He held his red car tight. The other red car — the one Lorenzo had picked up from Table One — was still in Lorenzo's hand.

He turned around and held it out.

"You forgot Lightning's brother."

Leo took it. Two red cars now. One in each hand.

"Vroom vroom," he whispered, driving them on my dress.

Rhys looked at the two cars. His jaw tightened.

We did not go to The Pierre lobby. Marcus took the private entrance to the private penthouse loft. Not Blackwood Tower. Where three can be three. Service elevator, no other floors.

Inside, it was warm.

I put Leo on the white couch. Pulled off his blue shoes — wrong feet. Socks off. Feet cold.

Rhys stayed by the door. Not sitting.

"This is not where three can be three," Rhys said. "This is where you corner her."

"I did not call the press," Lorenzo said.

"You called the boy to Table One to show your eyes," Rhys said.

"I called my son," Lorenzo said.

Leo looked up. "I have a cold, Dad. Mama said."

The word again. Dad.

Rhys's hands became fists.

"You were not there when he had fever at 2 AM in Shoreditch. I was. When Mrs. Patel knocked for rent and we had no money for milk. I was. When he first said mama. I was."

"I know," Lorenzo said. He did not fight. "I was with a lie."

He knelt down to the carpet, to Leo's level.

"Leo, Uncle Rhys is right. He was your dad when I could not be. He is brave."

Leo looked confused. He looked at Rhys.

"Uncle Rhys, brave like Spider-Man?"

Rhys's face broke a little. He knelt too.

"Yes, buddy. And you are my brave boy."

Two men on the floor. One boy between them.

I stood behind the couch. My black dress had the small snot mark. My hands were shaking.

"Leo needs sleep," I said. "Both of you — out."

Lorenzo stood first. "I will stay outside. In hall. No press comes up."

Rhys stood too. "I stay too. Nanny is downstairs."

"No. Rhys, take nanny home. Lorenzo, go home."

Leo grabbed my hand. "Mama, who will check for monsters?"

Quiet.

I picked him up. The two red cars fell on the white carpet.

"Tonight, mama checks."

I carried him to the small bedroom. Queen drawing taped on the wall. He fell asleep in four minutes, mouth open, cars under his pillow.

When I came out, the loft was empty.

Then I saw him through the one-inch open door.

Hallway. Sitting on the floor, back against the wall, still in his gala suit. Not on his phone. Just sitting.

Rhys was gone.

"He left," Lorenzo said before I asked. "He said to tell you he will be at the gallery tomorrow. If you need safe choice."

He looked up at me.

"Can I stay on the floor? I will not come in. I just want to be where he breathes."

Three years ago he asked me to sign divorce to fulfill a dying wish. Tonight he sits on a cold floor to hear his son breathe.

I left the door open one inch.

"Floor is cold. Couch is inside."

He stood up fast.

Then my phone buzzed in the kitchen.

Unknown number. Photo attached.

Leo tonight. At The Plaza. Grey eyes clear. Red car in Lorenzo's hand.

Caption: Blackwood heir? Atelier S secret son has Blackwood grey eyes — Table One scandal.

Someone had two cameras. Or sold it before Lorenzo broke the card.

I locked the phone.

Tomorrow, Atelier S dresses would be cut again.