Chapter 4 - Shadows of the Past
By the end of the week, an uneasy truce had settled over the Medina estate.
Sloan’s physical recovery was progressing rapidly, thanks to the round-the-clock physical therapy and specialized medical care Griffin insisted on. But the psychological landscape of their lives had shifted irrevocably.
Hazel and Iris were thriving. Griffin had converted one of the ground-floor wings into a spectacular art and study studio for them, filled with drafting tables, high-end digital tablets, and shelves of science books.
On Thursday afternoon, Sloan walked down the hallway toward the studio, holding a tray of sliced apples.
She stopped at the open doorway.
Griffin was sitting on a low wooden stool between the twin drafting tables. He had his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, ink smudges on his cuffs. He was showing Iris how to use an architectural software program on a tablet, while Hazel was carefully constructing a miniature suspension bridge out of balsa wood beside him.
"No, look here," Griffin was saying gently, pointing at the tablet screen. "If you increase the load-bearing angle of the truss by five degrees, the structural drag decreases. That’s how your mother designs her buildings. She makes them look light, but they're strong enough to survive an earthquake."
Iris looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Did Mommy teach you that?"
Griffin smiled—a genuine, warm, tender smile that Sloan hadn't seen on his face in nine long years. "No, sweetheart. Your mommy is much smarter than I am. I just build computers. She builds things that last."
Hazel looked up from her balsa wood bridge. "Griffin?"
"Yes, Hazel?"
"Are you going to stay with us?" Hazel asked bluntly, her innocent eyes searching his face. "When Mommy gets better and we go back to Queen Anne... are you coming too?"
Griffin’s smile vanished, replaced by a quiet, profound solemnity. He looked down at his daughters, then raised his head, catching Sloan standing in the shadow of the doorframe.
"I'm never leaving you girls again," Griffin said clearly, his eyes fixed on Sloan. "Where you go, I go. If your mother will have me."
Sloan felt her heart flutter in her chest, a dizzying mix of warmth and panic.
Before she could step into the room, the sharp chime of Griffin’s encrypted phone shattered the moment.
Griffin pulled the device from his pocket. His face hardened instantly as he read the notification on the screen. He stood up, smoothing his shirt.
"Stay with your mother for a moment, girls," Griffin said softly, stepping past Sloan into the corridor.
Sloan followed him into his private study down the hall. "What is it?"
Griffin turned to face her, handing her the phone.
On the screen was a draft of an upcoming press release scheduled to be published by the Seattle Financial Chronicle the following morning:
“EXCLUSIVE: Drake AI CEO Griffin Drake Hides Illegitimate Heirs; Board Prepares Integrity Audit Over Unreported Family Conflicts Involving Morrison Center Development.”
Sloan’s blood turned to ice. "How did they get this?"
"Eleanor," Griffin said, his voice dropping an octave into dangerous coldness. "My mother’s informants inside Swedish Medical tipped her off about the twins' admission. She couldn't get the medical records due to HIPAA laws, but she ran a background check on you, linked you to the Morrison Center financing, and leaked this to the press to tank our stock price before tomorrow's board meeting."
"She’s trying to frame this as a corporate conflict of interest," Sloan realized, panic seizing her chest. "She’s going to claim you awarded the Morrison architecture contract to me because of our past relationship, suggesting corruption!"
"She wants to force me to resign as Chairman," Griffin said, his expression turning to carved stone. "And she wants to publicly declare you an opportunist who hid children for nine years to execute a corporate shakedown."
Sloan dropped onto the leather sofa, her hands trembling. "It’s happening again. Exactly what she threatened nine years ago. She’s going to drag Hazel and Iris into the mud..."
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Griffin walked over to his desk, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a heavy black leather ledger. He set it on the desk with a heavy thud.
"Nine years ago, I was helpless because I didn't know the truth," Griffin said, staring at her with cold, unwavering fury. "Nine years ago, you bore this burden alone. But tomorrow morning, Sloan... Eleanor is going to learn what happens when you strike at the only things I care about in this world."
