Mercer turned his attention to the child. "And what do you want, Annie?"
Annie looked at the wide mirrors first, then at the piano in the corner, then back at the adults. She took her time before answering, which made Mercer watch her even more carefully.
"I want to dance," she said simply. "And I want my mama not to be tired all the time."
No one spoke for a few seconds after that statement.
Mercer leaned back slightly in his chair. "All right, then we will speak with complete transparency," he said, folding his hands. "Mr. Whitmore cannot simply adopt you based on a verbal promise made at a gala, Annie. That is not how the law works, and it is not how it should work. But he can execute something else. He can sponsor your formal education through an independent trust. He can pay for proper, professional dance training. He can ensure complete housing stability for your household so you are never one financial emergency away from losing your baseline. All of that can be executed legally without taking you away from your mother."
Lena finally sat down in the chair, her posture rigid. "And what exactly does he get out of this?" she asked, looking at Charles.
Charles answered this time, his voice flat. "Nothing that can be written into a legal contract, Ms. Bell."
"That's not how rich men usually operate."
"No," he admitted. "It isn't."
Mercer watched both of them closely. "What he gets," Mercer clarified, "if this is executed properly, is the exact responsibility he publicly claimed to want. Responsibility is a very heavy word to deploy in a ballroom, Ms. Bell. It's significantly heavier in real life."
"I know it is," Charles said.
"You don't know," Lena replied quietly. "Not the way we mean it."
He did not argue the point with her.