Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Box
"Come with me," Richard said to Lila, his voice shaking.
He didn't care about the two hundred guests waiting in the ballroom. He didn't care about the senators or the tech CEOs. He turned on his heel and walked straight toward his private study—a room no member of the staff, not even the estate manager, was ever allowed to enter.
Lila followed him, her knees shaking as she carried Emma. Richard closed the heavy mahogany doors behind them, locking out the muffled sounds of the gala.
"Sit down, Lila," Richard said, pointing to a leather sofa. He walked over to a wet bar, his hands trembling so violently he spilled half the scotch he poured for himself. He drained the glass in one swallow, then turned to her. "Tell me the truth. How do you know Kenji?"
Lila looked down at Emma, who was now sleepily resting her head against her mother's shoulder.
"I didn't know he was Kenji Watanabe," Lila whispered, her tears finally overflowing. "To me, he was just Ken. I met him four years ago in Portland. He was working as a night janitor at a community college. He was so quiet, so gentle. He looked like a man who carried a mountain on his back."
She swallowed hard, her voice cracking. "We moved in together. He didn't have a phone, he didn't use credit cards. Everything was cash. But he loved me. And when I got pregnant with Emma, he looked at me like I had given him the entire universe. But his health was failing. He had a severe cardiac condition. He refused to go to a hospital because he said people were looking for him."
Richard gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white. "When did he die?"
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"Two weeks before Emma was born," Lila choked out. "He passed away in his sleep. He left me nothing but a cardboard box. Inside it were hundreds of digital audio recordings and cassette tapes. He told me to play them for our daughter every night. He said it was her heritage. He said if she listened to his voice, she would never be lonely."
Lila reached into her canvas bag, her trembling fingers pulling out an old, scratched digital voice recorder. "I play them for her every night while she falls asleep. She doesn't know English words for everything yet, but she mimics his voice perfectly. She thinks it’s a game."
