Chapter 3

Stay Away From Kit

By breakfast, the Ashcombe family had turned Tamsin's life into a press release.

A folder waited beside her plate. On the cover, beneath the family crest, were the words THE ASHCOMBE HOMECOMING.

Tamsin opened it.

The long-lost daughter welcomed home after years of private healing.

She read the sentence twice, searching for the part where anyone had asked whether she wanted to be found.

Mireille entered with two members of the family's public-relations team. One carried fabric samples. The other carried a schedule that included etiquette coaching, portrait sessions and a charity luncheon beside Cressida.

"We need to control the story before the trust transfer becomes public," Mireille said. "People will be curious. This presents you in the warmest possible light."

"It presents a lie in good lighting."

"It protects everyone, including you."

Tamsin found the extra agreement beneath the schedule. It would stop her from discussing her childhood, her mother, the trust or anything that might harm the Ashcombe name.

"For my own good?" she asked.

Mireille smiled. "Exactly."

Tamsin sent a photograph of every page to her lawyer, then pushed the folder away. "My answer is no."

"Your father expects cooperation."

"My mother's voting rights do not depend on his approval."

Her lawyer called less than ten minutes later. By noon, he had rejected every added condition in writing and reminded the Ashcombes that any attempt to delay the transfer would be challenged in court.

Alton did not come to lunch.

Tamsin considered that her first peaceful meal in the house.

Across the city, peace had also left the Dacre home.

By Saturday, Corin had made his decision. His surgery was set for the following Wednesday. Doctors called daily. Security plans changed by the hour. Staff lowered their voices whenever he entered a room, then stared after him as if trying to measure how much time he had left.

Kit noticed all of it.

He sat at the foot of the stairs with his stuffed wolf in his lap while Corin spoke to Nolan in the study.

"Emmett wants me admitted the night before," Corin said. "Move the Rotterdam call and send the revised authority papers to legal."

"Already done."

"And Kit?"

Nolan looked through the open door. The step where Kit had been sitting was empty.

The nanny's cry came from upstairs.

"He was here a minute ago."

Within five minutes, every guard in the house was searching. One of the side doors had not latched properly after a delivery. The camera showed Kit slipping through it alone.

Corin's control did not break. It became colder.

"Find him."

At that moment, Tamsin was leaving her lawyer's office near the old arcade when she spotted a familiar head of dark curls beside the crossing.

Kit stood alone, hugging the wolf to his chest.

A bus rushed past before she reached him. Tamsin caught his shoulders and moved him back from the curb.

"Where is your nanny?"

His lower lip trembled. "Home."

"And why aren't you?"

He looked toward the arcade. "You come again."

The fear beneath his words softened something inside her. She crouched until they were eye to eye.

"You cannot leave home alone to look for me. Ever. Do you understand?"

Kit nodded, but tears had already filled his eyes.

Tamsin called the number saved as Mr. Funeral Suit. Then she contacted the nearest patrol officer and told the arcade manager they were waiting by the front desk. She did everything the correct way.

Corin arrived twenty minutes later prepared for war.

The arcade doors opened hard behind him. Two guards followed. His gaze found Kit's hand wrapped around Tamsin's fingers, and the fear he had kept buried turned sharp.

"Step away from him."

Tamsin rose slowly. "Good afternoon to you too."

Corin crossed the floor and pulled Kit against him. He checked the child's face, arms and neck. Only when he found no injury did he look at Tamsin again.

"What did you do?"

The question was quiet. The accusation inside it was not.

"I stopped him from walking into traffic."

"Why was he with you?"

"Because he came here alone."

Corin's eyes hardened. "Or because you brought him."

Kit flinched.

Tamsin saw it and kept her voice level. "I called you. I alerted the police. I asked the manager to preserve the security recording, and I waited twenty minutes for you to arrive. If I were abducting him, I would be remarkably bad at it."

"Stay away from Kit until I know exactly what happened."

Tamsin held his gaze. "Gladly. But ask yourself why a frightened four-year-old had to leave his house before anyone noticed he needed help."

Corin went still.

She knelt in front of Kit. "You are not in trouble. But no more travelling alone. Promise me."

"Promise." His fingers caught her sleeve. "Don't go."

The patrol officer arrived with the arcade manager. Security footage showed Tamsin coming from the opposite side of the street, running toward Kit as a bus passed. The nanny's statement confirmed he had disappeared from home before Tamsin's call.

Each fact stripped away Corin's anger and left the truth beneath it.

He had been wrong.

Outside the arcade, he handed Kit to the nanny and asked Tamsin to wait.

She folded her arms. "Do I need legal counsel for this part?"

"I was wrong just now."

There was no excuse attached. No mention of fear, pressure or the enemies who had used his family before.

Tamsin had expected pride from a man like him. The direct apology surprised her more than the accusation.

"It was not mere misunderstanding," she said. "You convicted me first and hunted for proof afterward."

"You are right. That is why I apologise."

She watched him for a moment. He did not look away.

"Protecting a child is one thing. Treating everyone as a suspect is quite another."

"I will remember that."

Kit slipped free of the nanny and returned to Tamsin. He held her sleeve with both hands this time.

"Tamsin come again?"

She glanced at Corin. "Ask your uncle. He seems quite afraid of me."

"I am afraid you will give Kit bad ideas."

"He already thinks machines are honest. He needs help."

For the first time, Corin smiled. It changed his face so completely that Tamsin forgot, for one careless second, to be guarded.

Then his hand shifted toward his chest.

The movement was small, but she saw it.

Corin noticed her attention and dropped his hand. "Stay for dinner."

It sounded less like an order than he probably intended.

Tamsin should have refused. Instead, Kit leaned his head against her arm and looked up at her with quiet hope.

"One dinner," she said.

The Dacre home was not what she expected. It was large, but Kit's drawings crowded the refrigerator. A wooden train ran beneath the dining-room table. Corin's dark reputation seemed to stop at the door of the child's room.

During dinner, he cut Kit's food into small pieces and moved the peas apart because Kit disliked them touching the potatoes. He never raised his voice when the boy spilled water. He simply replaced the glass and continued listening to a serious story about the dishonest claw machine.

The ruthless man Tamsin had read about did not disappear. She could still feel him beneath the quiet. But he was not the whole truth.

Her opinion of him cracked, just a little.

After dinner, Kit fell asleep with his head in her lap. Tamsin carried him upstairs while Corin opened the bedroom door.

"He does not trust easily," Corin said as she settled the boy beneath the blanket.

"Neither do you."

"He has better reasons."

Tamsin looked at him. For once, there was no challenge in his face, only something tired.

Outside Kit's room, Nolan waited with a document. Corin read it beneath the hallway light.

Consent for high-risk surgery.

Tamsin caught only the heading before he turned the page, but it was enough.

That careful breathing. The scar. The hand pressed to his chest.

Her pulse slowed.

"Wednesday?" she asked.

Corin's pen paused. "You read quickly."

"It keeps people from surprising me."

"Does it work?"

Her gaze dropped to the signature line. "Not tonight."

He signed.

Between Saturday night and Wednesday morning, Corin put his affairs in order without calling them final. Kit stayed close to him, sensing the fear no adult would explain. Tamsin returned to the Ashcombe estate, but the sight of his signature followed her.

The following Wednesday, Kit stood beside Corin's hospital bed, his small fingers closed around his uncle's hand. Machines waited behind them. Beyond the glass, the surgical team prepared.

"Will you come back?" Kit asked.

Corin had faced guns, enemies and collapsing empires without hesitation. This question held him silent.

Across town, Tamsin's phone vibrated.

The message came from Dr. Emmett Saye.

I will be operating on Dacre. That bullet is far trickier than scans show. If things go south, I need you.