Chapter 6
Colemere was searched the next morning.
Not raided.
Not destroyed.
Inspected.
My men found everything prepared exactly as Gavin described.
Nursery.
Medical equipment.
Food.
Fresh linens.
A room for Sienna.
A room for Mila.
No room for me.
Interesting.
No room for Sienna’s chosen doctor either.
Instead, Marjorie had hired a retired maternity nurse named Lydia Cross.
Competent.
Experienced.
And told that Sienna had requested privacy.
Another lie.
Lydia was horrified when I spoke to her.
Good.
She withdrew immediately.
Then my men found the old family parlor.
Portrait of Thomas Cole.
A bassinet beneath it.
On the small table:
A folded white blanket embroidered with one name.
THOMASINA.
There.
No ambiguity.
No spontaneous tradition.
The name had already been stitched.
I sent the blanket to Sienna.
Not as evidence.
Because it belonged to a decision about her child made without her.
She stared at it for a long time.
Then laughed.
Cold.
“They really thought I’d just wake up and accept it.”
“No.”
I said.
“They thought you’d be exhausted, isolated, and surrounded.”
Her face changed.
Exactly.
Not force.
Pressure.
A woman hours after childbirth.
Toddler nearby.
Husband.
Mother-in-law.
Sister-in-law.
Old family elders.
A prepared name.
A prepared story.
Everyone saying:
It’s tradition.
Don’t ruin the moment.
We already told people.
May you like
Thomas would have wanted this.
The kind of coercion polite families call consensus.
