He looked at the folder on the desk.

“She won’t have an office by morning,” he said. “She won’t have a name.”

He picked up the flash drives and put them in his pocket.

“Come with me,” he said. “I want you there when I show her.”

“No,” I said. “I have to get back to the boys.”

“Please, Emma,” he said. “You deserve to see this.”

I looked at him, seeing the determination in his eyes.

I thought of the years of hiding, the nights spent crying in our small apartment, the boys asking why they didn’t have a dad.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll go to New York.”

We left the building together.

Sarah met us in the lobby, her eyes darting between me and Blake.

“He knows,” I told her.

Sarah nodded, looking relieved.

“I’ll take the train back to the boys,” she said. “Keep me updated.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” I said, hugging her tightly.

Blake’s private car was waiting at the curb.

The drive to O’Hare airport was fast, the rain slickening the highway.

We boarded his private jet in silence.