I glanced in the rearview mirror. Millie's gray-blue eyes, Michaela's eyes, were fixed on me with an earnestness that cut right through my chest.
"I tried to help her, sweetheart. I offered her money. She didn't want it."
"Maybe she does not want money," Millie said to me as if it were obvious, like her father was missing something simple. "Maybe she wants something else."
I didn't have an answer for that. I pulled into our driveway, past the iron gates, past the security cameras, and parked in front of a house that suddenly felt too large and too empty despite all the people inside it.
James met us at the door. He crouched down to Millie's level, his face a mix of relief and poorly hidden emotion.
"Hey, peanut." His voice was gruff. "You scared us pretty good."
"I'm sorry, Uncle James."
"Don't be sorry. Just—" He pulled her into a hug. "Don't do it again, okay?"
Over Millie's head, his eyes met mine. A question in them.Later, I mouthed. He nodded.
Victoria emerged from the living room, her performance mask firmly in place. "Oh, thank goodness!" She moved toward Millie with arms outstretched. "Sweetheart, we were so worried?—"
Millie stepped behind my legs.
Victoria's smile faltered. "Darling, what's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?"
"I want to go to bed," Millie said quietly, her hand gripping my trousers. "Daddy, can you take me to bed?"
"Of course." I lifted her into my arms, ignoring Victoria's tight expression. "Say goodnight, Millie."
"Goodnight, Uncle James."
She didn't say anything to Victoria.
Later, after Millie was bathed and tucked in and sleeping with her stuffed rabbit clutched to her chest, I stood in my study with a glass of whiskey I hadn't touched. James was sprawled in the leather chair across from me. Victoria had retreated to her wing of the house, her fury palpable even through the walls.
"So," James said. "What happened?"
I told him. The woman in the crumbling apartment. The eviction notice. The empty cupboards. The two cans of soup. The refusal of ten million dollars.
James let out a low whistle. "She turned down ten million."
"Flat out refused. Said she didn't do it for money."
"People don't do that, Nate."
"She did." I was as dumbfounded as he was; neither of us saw this before.
He was quiet for a moment, studying me with the particular perception of a twenty-year friendship. "You're going to do something about this, aren't you?"
"She gave Millie her last meal. She's about to be homeless."
"And she told you she doesn't want your help."
"She told me she doesn't want my money." I finally took a sip of the whiskey. "That's not the same thing."
James shook his head slowly, but there was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. "You know, most people hear 'no' and accept it."
"I'm not most people."
"No." He stood, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "You're definitely not. Just… be careful, Nate. She's not one of your acquisitions. You can't just buy your way into her good graces."
