Adrian made promises aloud in a way he never had before—promises meant to be witnessed by law, by conscience, and by himself. He set up an irrevocable trust in Mei's name for the child. He employed an independent counsel who reported to Renée as well as to him. He resigned from a minor board to reduce the optics of conflict. Each legal act comforted him like a bandage.
When he finally tracked Mei to a quiet clinic (via carefully vetted channels, not the slanted men), he arrived with a stack of legal papers and a single bouquet of wrong flowers. He found her in the sunlight, hair pinned back, the hospital bracelet on her wrist.
"I will not pursue custody," he said bluntly. "I will not buy your silence. I will not control you. I will… protect your choice."
Mei listened. She watched him with the same guarded curiosity she'd always had. "Words," she said. "Are cheap."
So he offered more: signed documents, the trust, a notarized pledge for privacy, and a promise to publicly resign from any move that would leverage the child's identity. He also offered a final, softer thing: daily presence if she ever wanted it, with boundaries set by her.
She did not accept then. "I'll think about it," she said. "I have to decide what kind of life I want for my child, not what you want for your company."
He left the stack on the nurse's counter and walked away with a heart more battered than he would admit.
Cliffhanger: As Adrian drives away, his phone vibrates: an anonymous tip with coordinates—and a photo of Renée's salon's backroom burning.