Read Story: SEASON 2 EPISODE 122

Eventually, she buried her face in my chest and began openly weeping.

I hesitated, my hands hovering over her back, unsure whether to wrap them around her or not. “Is… that a yes?”

She nodded emphatically, keeping her face buried in my shirt as she cried.

I eased my arms around her shoulders again and simply let her unload all of her emotions. After all, she’d just found out she was getting her kid back after having him stolen from her, had acquired a job, and a place to live… all in one fell swoop. I couldn’t blame her for being overwhelmed.

As for me… it felt fucking fantastic to do something completely selfless for someone in need without expecting anything in return.

It felt gloriously human.

***

A few minutes later, I opened the door to my study to escort Phoebe back to her room when I saw Helen, Erin, and Henry Psalter waiting. Psalter and Helen looked deep in discussion, but Erin was simply leaning against the wall, waiting for us, wearing a red and white striped bikini which had been on Bobbi until recently.

Phoebe was a little taken aback by the presence of all the people near the door, but Erin kept her attention as she bounced off the wall and approached us. “I hope those are happy tears!”

My ex-neighbor gave her a weepy smile. “They are.” Then she hesitated, looking Erin up and down. “Is that a different suit?”

“Wardrobe malfunction,” Erin said dismissively. “So… you guys have a solution?”

“We do,” I said.

“Mrs. Lucas,” Helen said, stepping next to Erin. “I’m Helen VanCamp—Mr. Upton’s lawyer.” She offered Phoebe a hand.

Phoebe hesitated and then shook her hand.

“Forgive the attire. I was invited to Mr. Upton’s homecoming celebration.”

“The party,” Phoebe said. “Erin told me.”

“Yes. I’ll be advising him on the best course of action from a legal standpoint so that we can minimize any impact his actions might incur.”

“Thank you,” Phoebe said.

“Erin,” I said. “Why don’t you escort Phoebe back to her room while I talk to Mrs. VanCamp?”

“Will-do, boss,” Erin said.

Phoebe and Erin left, with the former giving me one more grateful hug and a whispered thank you before departing. Once they were out of sight, Helen, Psalter, and I retreated into the study.

“Erin and Henry filled me in on the details,” Helen said as she slunk her way into the center of the room, still dressed in her red bikini, collar, and nothing else. She turned and fixed me with an inquisitive stare. “What are you considering?”

“I told her we had two options: call it in and let the authorities do what they can or let Psalter’s people bring the kid back to his mom.”

“And which one did she prefer?”

“Psalter.”

“And of course, you’re calling the authorities,” Helen said. It wasn’t a question.

I started to protest, but Henry spoke ahead of me.

“The child is with his father, and the mother hasn't reported him missing. Unless young Nate looks like he’s taken a tumble down the stairs or run into a door, there’s nothing law enforcement can do.”

“He can’t kidnap the boy,” Helen argued.

Psalter leveled a deadpan stare at Helen and tipped his beer bottle in my direction. “He’s the wealthiest man in the world by a considerable margin. He can do whatever he wants.”

Helen planted her hands on her hips. “So, stealing him from his father is the best option?”

“No,” Psalter said. He took a sip of his beer. “His best option is not getting involved.”

“That’s not happening,” I interjected.

“And since that’s not happening,” Psalter continued, “his best course of action is to let my man do his job. Nate will be whisked away like a ghost with Jim none the wiser until he wakes up with no desire to call the authorities or file a report.”

“How are you going to get a father not to file a missing persons report?” I asked.

Henry looked at me gravely and said, “You’re better off not knowing.”

“You’re claiming that what you’re going to do can’t be traced back to Marcus?” Helen said, looking skeptical.

“I never said that,” Psalter said. He sounded as if he were explaining his job to a twelve-year-old. “Nothing is completely untraceable in this day and age of geolocation, CCTV, and cashless commerce. I’m simply saying that if I handle it, it will be as close to removed from Marcus as possible. The weakest link will be his association with Mrs. Lucas after the fact.” 

Psalter turned his attention back to me. “What will you do with them after the boy’s returned?”

“I offered her a job here.”

Henry’s face fell much more than I thought it could. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“No,” Psalter said. His answer sounded more like a judge pronouncing a sentence than an employee talking to his employer.

“No?” I asked.

“You’re opening yourself to too much risk. If someone sees Nate Lucas in this building after he disappeared and puts the pieces together, you could be looking at—”

“Being charged with kidnapping?” I asked. “I’m pretty sure Helen’s people could handle something like that, right?”

“No,” Psalter said, unfazed by my cutting him off. “Living under a microscope. Forget being charged with simple kidnapping. You’d have phones wiretapped, information subpoenaed, people tailing you all the time. Your life will be dissected, observed, and analyzed for weaknesses by one of your enemies—people with resources to actually fight back in any arena you want to engage in, legal or otherwise. They’re out for blood, and they have enough of it already.”

“So, what do you suggest? I have to do something.”

“Send the authorities,” Helen said, starting to sound like a broken record.

I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not kidding, Marcus! You’re risking exposure and vulnerability for something so low-stakes.”

“Low-stakes? The kid—”

“Is with his father,” Helen said. “It’s not like he’s being trafficked.”

Helen had a lot of strengths, but motherly instincts weren’t one of them, and it showed.

“So you both think it’s best to do nothing?” I asked.