“Yes.”
“My daddy?”
Leonard’s voice nearly failed.
“I might be.
We have to find out properly.”
She nodded with the solemnity of someone accustomed to adults making promises they could not keep.
“Okay.”
She returned to her table.
Leonard folded Julia’s letter along its original creases.
“Arrange the test,” he said.
His communications director opened her tablet.
“I’ll find a private clinic.
We can use confidentiality agreements and make sure nothing becomes public.”
“No company lawyers.”
She stared at him.
“Leonard—”
“This has nothing to do with Baker Developments.”
“The press crew saw you speaking to the girl.
If there is a connection, this could become a major story.
Properly handled, it could completely reverse the criticism surrounding the company.”
Leonard looked toward the recreation room.
Isabella had begun coloring the faceless father in her drawing.
His communications director continued, encouraged by his silence.
“A successful businessman discovers his orphaned daughter during a charitable visit.
It is extraordinary.
The public response would be—”
“Get out.”
She blinked.
“Leonard, I am trying to protect you.”
“You are trying to package her.”
His voice stayed low, but everyone in the office heard it.
“I brought cameras into this home because I wanted to use these children to protect my reputation.
I will not use her twice.”
The communications director closed the tablet.
“You are making decisions under emotional distress.”
“For once,” Leonard said, “that may be better than making them under strategy.”
She left without another word.
The news crew was dismissed.
The ceremonial photographs were never released.
Leonard’s company issued only a brief statement confirming that the donation had been made and that the planned media event had been canceled at Leonard’s request.
He stayed at St.
Francis Home until evening.
At first, Isabella ignored him.
He sat on the floor several feet from her table while she finished the drawing.
He did not ask to see it.
He did not tell her what Julia had written.
He did not offer her toys, a larger room, or any of the things his money could produce quickly.
When a wooden block tower collapsed across the room, Leonard helped gather the pieces.
When the little boy with untied shoes nearly tripped again, Leonard knelt and tied them.
The boy stared at him.
“You do it too tight,” he complained.
Leonard loosened the knot.
“Better?”
The boy tested it and ran away without thanking him.
Sister Teresa smiled from across the room.
Leonard returned the next morning.
