“You had a notary come to my recovery room?” I asked.
“Not in the room, Evelyn,” he said, his voice lifting into the smooth, persuasive tone he used when explaining market volatility to his clients. “Just down in the lobby. We needed a signature verified on a standard corporate disclosure. It is all part of the Vale Capital restructuring.”
He adjusted his right cuff link, his fingers moving with a quick, restless precision.
“Why would you do that here instead of at your office?” I asked.
“Because my family is here,” he said, stepping closer and touching the wooden railing of Noah’s bassinet with a single finger. “Every minute counts right now. The market does not wait for a delivery room.”
The baby stirred, his small leg twitching under the yellow flannel blanket, and Adrian pulled his hand back as if the wood were hot.
“We have to secure the foundation,” Adrian said, his eyes shifting back to his briefcase. “Everything I am doing right now is for their future.”
He did not look at me when he said it, his gaze already fixed on the silver latch of his leather bag.
“I didn’t know we were restructuring the firm,” I said.
