Page 154 of Under Your Scars
CHAPTER 48
THE SILENCER
Working from home is unnatural. I hate it. But not seeing my office at the Reeves Enterprises headquarters for a few months is a very small sacrifice to make in the grand scheme of things, considering the life I’ve built since Christmas.
Working from home does have its perks, though. Like getting to see my family whenever I want. My godfather, my wife,andmy daughter.
In the two months that have passed since Christmas, Elena and I had a small marriage ceremony at the courthouse. After that, we applied to adopt. The Thomas and Elizabeth Reeves Memorial Orphanage has an adoption program sponsored by the State to match eligible children to prospective parents. It's the same process as a regular adoption. Interviews. Background checks. Home inspections.
The only major difference is that in order to adopt a child from the campus, a board composed of fifteen members from TERMO and the State have to unanimously vote ‘yes’ to approve the match before a final adoption hearing is held in court.
Considering I am a member of said board, that was all just logistics. Caroline was always meant to be a part of my family.
All it took was a few million dollars in bribes to finalize it within a month. Pocket change.
Those vetting processes are in place for the benefit of the child. Should I feel bad that I used my money and influence to bulldoze my way through them? Probably.
Do I? Fuck no.
The judge at our adoption hearing did order me to take a six-week anger management course within the year as a condition for the adoption. It upset me, considering I paid that judge seven figures to grant the adoption despite knowing we didn’t meet the criteria, but Elena and I got what we wanted in the end, so I suppose it’s a small price to pay.
She jokingly ordered us to take Caroline to Disney World, but I took that very seriously, and we were at the park for a week straight.
The first night we were there, as we were tucking Caroline into bed, she looked me dead in the eyes, kissed my cheek and said, “I have the best daddy in the whole wide world.”
I almost fuckingboughtDisney World for her after that.
One thing that Elena and I have realized after Caroline moved in with us is that she doesn’t like to be alone. I don’t think she has any sort of separation anxiety from us, at least not yet, but she’s always in the same room as me or Elena, and if we’re not available, she’s with Edwin.
I suppose it makes sense. She was always glued to Kelly’s side at the orphanage, most likely because she was the most consistent adult in her life at the time. She had a penchant for wandering off to look for candy, so now I keep stashes of Tootsie Rolls hidden around the house for her.
Elena doesn’t know that though, it’s our little secret.
Caroline is sitting on my lap, coloring a piece of paper bright blue. Streaks of marker are covering my desk from where her vigorous artistic hands have run off the page. This desk is solid mahogany and cost me fifteen grand. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
Caroline can do, quite literally, anything she wants.
I think I might be more whipped for my daughter than I am for my wife.
Said wife comes busting into my office looking like she’s ready for war. She has a newspaper gripped so tight in her hand that she might tear a hole through the entire stack of paper.
Spying Caroline on my lap, her face softens, and she comes to squat next to us.
“Hey Caro, go to the kitchen and tell Paolo that I said you could have a cupcake before dinner.”
Caroline gasps, immediately dropping her marker. “Really?” she asks in disbelief. Elena, despite her own weakness for sugar, limits Caroline’s intake of it.
Though, if mommy says no, Caroline knows that daddy willalwayssay yes.
Elena nods. “Really. But only one.”
Caroline hops off my lap and darts out of the office like the roadrunner from Looney Tunes.
Once we’re alone, Elena’s face hardens again, and she shuts the door. She’s angry. I can see it in her face. The only other time she’s ever had that fury in her eyes was before she knew I was the Silencer, when she told me that she wished I would die.
“Angel—”
“Don’t fucking ‘angel’me,” she growls. “Is there something you want to tell me, Christian? And think about your answervery hard, because if you lie to me…”
