"And do you know what adoption means?"
Annie considered the word. "It means somebody picks you to be their child."
Lena's eyes stung at the sheer simplicity of it.
Charles crouched down then, bringing himself nearer Annie's height, and somehow that physical movement altered the room more than anything else he had done. "It should mean more than that," he said softly. "It should mean responsibility, safety, and a promise that does not disappear when the music stops."
Annie was quiet for a long moment. "And you'd help Mama, too?"
"Yes."
"Really help? Because she gets so tired."
Something changed in Charles's face then—something small and tightly controlled, but unmistakably human. "I know," he said.
Lena crossed her arms. "Do you?"
He rose slowly, acknowledging the limits of the evening. "This conversation cannot be finished tonight."
"That finally sounds sensible," Lena said.
He moved to the small writing desk near the lamp, took a card from a silver case, and wrote a second number on the back by hand. "This is my direct line," he said, offering it to Lena. "And this is the personal number for Judge Raymond Mercer, who advises me on family and legal matters. Speak to no one else before you choose whether to speak to me again."
Lena did not take the card immediately. "Choose?"
"Yes," Charles said. "You will decide whether this continues. Not Victor, not the board, and not the newspapers."