Page 49 of His Daughter

"You always say that."

"Because I always do."

"No, you always bleed." Her eyes were serious. "This place runs on your willingness to give until you're empty, and I'm the only person who will say out loud that the giving has to stop before it kills you."

I looked at the shelf behind her. A bottle of bleach. A roll of paper towels. The box of children's books, their spines cracked and faded.

"I'll figure it out," I said again.

Margot looked at me for a long time. Then she stepped aside and opened the closet door.

Declan was standing right outside. I knew he’d heard every single word.

“Let’s go,” I said.

The car was quiet on the drive back. Thomas drove. I sat in the back seat and looked out the window. The city scrolled past — storefronts, crosswalks, a woman pushing a stroller through the crosswalk at Sixty-Third.

Declan was beside me. I could feel him thinking. I knew what was coming before he opened his mouth.

"Why didn’t you tell me you needed money?"

I didn’t look at him. "Because it doesn’t concern you."

"I’ve donated before. So, if you asked me, it does concern me."

I kept my eyes on the window. A taxi changed lanes. A cyclist swerved.

"I know people," he continued. "I have resources. I can connect you with funders who specialize in exactly this kind of work. It wouldn't be charity. It would be an investment in a model that's already working."

The silence stretched. The car moved through traffic. My jaw ached from clenching it.

"I didn't build this so a billionaire could write a check and feel good about himself."

He turned to look at me. "That's not what I'm…"

I turned to face him. "You don't get to walk into my office, see what I've spent almost a decade building, and decide you can fix it because you have a checkbook. Buy a building and put your name on it. But stay out of what I built."

"Thea…you can’t keep paying out of pocket. Let me help you."

"No. I know what happens when someone with money offers to make it easier. The price is always the same."

"You're being unfair," he said quietly.

"Maybe I am." I turned back to the window. "But this is mine. The nonprofit is the one thing I built that no one gave me and no one can take away."

The car pulled up to the building. Thomas opened the door. I got out. Declan got out. We rode the elevator in silence.

The penthouse was dim. The night nurse — Dominique — was in the nursery with Lena. Mrs. Parrish was gone. The kitchen was clean and empty and smelled like the lemon solution she used on the counters.

I walked to the sink, poured a glass of water, and drank it standing up. Declan was behind me. I could hear him breathing.

"Thea."

I set the glass down and turned.

He was standing in the kitchen doorway. His hands were at his sides. His jaw was tight. His eyes were on me.

"I'm just trying to help you," he said. "That's all I'm doing."