He should not have known.
Someone was watching.
Sabine sat at the workroom folding table and explained this to Donovan without once asking if she could stay.
When she finished, she closed her laptop.
“I’ll make another arrangement.”
Donovan looked toward the stairs.
Mara had left for school.
“You got somewhere?”
“I’ll find something.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
“How long until the apartment issue is sorted?”
“Best estimate?”
“A week.”
“Possibly more.”
Sabine opened her bag.
Removed an envelope.
Named a weekly amount large enough to cover Donovan’s rent for two months.
He stared.
“No.”
“Mr. Reese.”
“This isn’t a transaction.”
“Everything becomes one eventually.”
“Not upstairs.”
She looked at him.
“If you stay.”
He said.
“Three conditions.”
“First, inside the apartment you aren’t CEO.”
“You don’t reorganize the kitchen.”
“You don’t send company emails during dinner.”
“And if Mara says you’re using too much hot water, you negotiate directly with her.”
Sabine almost smiled.
“Second?”
“My daughter stays completely outside your legal dispute.”
“No interviews.”
“No lawyers questioning her unless legally required and I am present.”
“No using her to improve how you look.”
Sabine’s expression became serious.
“Agreed.”
“Third.”
“If the danger changes, you tell me.”
“You do not decide what I can handle and disappear.”
“You do not protect us by withholding information that affects us.”
Sabine was silent.
Then:
“Those are reasonable.”
“They’re the only ones.”
He pointed toward the envelope.
“Take your money.”
She did.
That afternoon, Donovan regretted everything.
By dinner, he regretted it slightly less.
Sabine attempted to work through the meal.
Her phone buzzed beside her plate.
She reached.
Donovan moved it to the counter.
She stared at him.
Mara froze with pasta halfway to her mouth.
Donovan continued eating.
Sabine looked toward the phone.
Then him.
“Did you just confiscate my phone?”
“No.”
“It’s six feet away.”
“I moved it.”
“I am in the middle of a board matter.”
“Then finish dinner faster.”
Mara looked down to hide a smile.
Sabine said:
“Do you understand how many people are waiting for replies from me?”
Donovan swallowed.
“Do they know you’re eating?”
“No.”
“Then they can continue not knowing for eighteen minutes.”
Sabine seemed genuinely offended.
Then she noticed Mara watching.
Something shifted.
She put her napkin back in her lap.
“Eighteen minutes.”
“Probably twenty.”
“This arrangement is becoming oppressive.”
Mara whispered:
“He does this to everybody.”
By the fourth night, Sabine stopped reaching for the phone.
By the fifth, she asked Mara about art class before checking email.
By the seventh, she knew Tuesday meant pasta and Thursday meant stir-fry.
The routine worked on her slowly.
Donovan watched without commenting.
Sabine had spent years inside environments where almost every interaction had purpose.
Meetings produced decisions.
Lunches built relationships.
Calls moved deals.
Dinner upstairs produced nothing.
That was precisely why it mattered.
Mara remained cautious.
Polite.
Measured.
She did not attach quickly anymore.
Celeste had taught her not to.