Donovan showed her the workroom.
Old couch.
Folded blanket.
Clean towel.
Door lock.
Bathroom.
Emergency exit.
He pointed toward the interior stairs.
“My daughter is upstairs.”
“Her name is Mara.”
“She is twelve.”
Sabine nodded.
“I will not disturb her.”
“That isn’t the only rule.”
Sabine waited.
“You don’t go upstairs tonight.”
“If anything changes with whatever this situation is, you tell me.”
“And if somebody follows you here, I need to know before they become my daughter’s problem.”
Sabine looked at him differently.
Not as employee.
As father.
“Understood.”
Donovan turned to leave.
“Mr. Reese.”
He looked back.
“Thank you.”
He nodded once.
Then went upstairs.
He did not sleep.
At six-twelve, Donovan heard movement in the kitchen.
He assumed Mara had awakened early.
Then he smelled coffee burning.
That was impossible.
Mara knew how to make coffee.
Donovan walked downstairs.
Sabine stood beside the old machine staring at it like hostile equipment.
She was wearing yesterday’s trousers and a white blouse with the sleeves folded to her forearms.
Mara stood in the kitchen doorway.
Hair loosely braided.
Pajamas.
Sketchbook tucked beneath one arm.
The two were studying each other.
“The grinder button doesn’t work.”
Mara said.
Sabine glanced toward the machine.
“I discovered that.”
“You keep pressing it.”
“I was verifying.”
“It’s broken.”
“Yes.”
“You have to use the pre-ground drawer.”
Mara crossed the kitchen.
Opened a small compartment.
Measured coffee.
Started the machine.
Sabine watched.
“Thank you.”
Mara took a bread roll from the basket.
Placed it on the table.
“Eat that.”
Sabine blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“Dad says hungry people make dumb decisions.”
From the hallway, Donovan closed his eyes.
“Mara.”
She turned.
“What?”
“You cannot call the CEO dumb before seven.”
“I didn’t.”
“I said hungry people.”
Sabine sat.
For the first time since Donovan had known her, she laughed.
A real laugh.
Brief.
Unprepared.
Mara looked satisfied.
Donovan stepped inside.
“You were supposed to stay downstairs.”
Sabine stood immediately.
“My apologies.”
“I heard movement.”
“I thought it was you.”
“I should have called.”
Mara looked between them.
“Why is your boss sleeping downstairs?”
There was no useful lie.
So Donovan did not invent one.
“She needed somewhere safe for the night.”
Mara considered this.
“Okay.”
Then she opened her sketchbook.
That was all.
Children sometimes accept complicated information more gracefully than adults if nobody teaches them to perform alarm.
By eight, Sabine’s phone was charged.
By nine, the temporary arrangement had become less temporary.
Her apartment lease was not merely delayed.
The landlord’s attorney claimed a cancellation clause had been triggered by a credit-related alert.
Sabine’s lawyer disputed it.
Her bank restrictions remained.
More troubling, one of Graham’s attorneys had referenced a restaurant Sabine visited the previous evening before returning to Arden.