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“Yes.”
“Then how can you even think of withholding the circumstances of his birth from him?”
“He’ll be told the truth, Mr. Sato. His genetics come from me and from an anonymous sperm donor.”
“But you know David Demerchant was his father. Bio-Sperm’s records clearly show—”
“I know nothing of the sort,” Remy interrupted. “And I don’t care what Bio-Sperm’s records show. With all the mistakes it has made in this matter, who knows who the sperm donor was?”
“Bio-Sperm knows, Dr. Westbrook. Your record clearly shows David Demerchant’s code and no code is ever reused even if—”
“Your Honor, I object,” Marc interrupted. “Defense attorney is making argumentative speeches again.”
“Sustained. Watch it, Mr. Sato.”
“My apologies,” Sato said, creasing his short, compact body with a small bow toward the bench. He returned his attention to the witness box. “Dr. Westbrook, how will you answer your son’s understandable curiosity about his father?”
“While he is very young, Counselor, I will teach him that it isn’t who his father is, but who he is that will give meaning to his life.”
“But aren’t you concerned that his sense of identity will suffer from not knowing his roots?”
“Roots? Haven’t we gone past that foolishness? We are not our parents, Counselor. Emotionally stigmatizing a child with the blame or fame of his ancestors only retards his real self from emerging.”
“And how do you intend to let your son’s real self emerge?”
“By teaching him that his sense of identity will come from his beliefs, his skills, his actions—no one else’s. The responsibility for who he becomes will be totally up to him. The only thing I or any parent can and should supply to a child is a nurturing environment filled with opportunities for growth and love.”
“Assuming all that to be true, Dr. Westbrook, what harm could come from your son learning of and becoming a part of the Demerchants’ nurturing environment filled with family love?”
“How do I know that the Demerchants are a loving family? Or that they share my ideas about how a child should be nurtured?”
“How do you know they’re not and do not?” Sato countered.
“I don’t intend to take chances with my son, Mr. Sato. I want him brought up right. I’m the only one who can ensure that will happen. These people have no role or business in his life.”
Sato smiled patiently at his contrary witness. “In time, Dr. Westbrook, I think you will change your mind. In time, when the shock you have been forced to endure wears off, I think you will want to share the love and joy you have in your heart for your son with his father’s side of the family.”
“Your Honor, I object,” Marc said. “Once again defense counsel is making speeches.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “Gentlemen of the jury, Mr. Sato’s thoughts are not evidence. You will disregard them. Mr. Sato, you may continue only if you have a legitimate question for Dr. Westbrook.”
“I am finished with this witness,” Mr. Sato said politely, and sat down.
“Mr. Truesdale, do you have anything on redirect?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Marc said as he stood at the plaintiff’s table. “Dr. Westbrook, do you think you will have a change of heart and at some time in the future wish to have your son meet the Demerchants?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“As I have said before, even if I inadvertently received David Demerchant’s sperm—and I’ve seen no real proof of that—I have no intention of sharing my son with the family of some stranger. And that, Mr. Truesdale, is all the Demerchants are to me and my son—strangers.”
“Thank you, Dr. Westbrook. That’s all I have.” Marc sat down once again.
“You’re excused, Dr. Westbrook,” the judge said.
“I’d like to resume my examination of Stanley Binick now,” Marc said.
The judge glanced at her watch. “You may resume your examination after the lunch break. Court is adjourned until two o’clock.”
As Remy vacated the witness chair, Louie Demerchant grabbed hold of Marc’s suit sleeve.
“Go after her, Truesdale. I want to see that boy.”
Marc mentally took back everything he had previously thought about Remy Westbrook helping their case. In his eagerness to win this suit and see Binick pay, he’d forgotten about the emotional impact of this woman’s testimony on his client. That damaging impact wasn’t worth another million or another hundred million.
“Mr. Demerchant, please don’t put yourself through this,” he said. “Binick is just trying to give you false hope.”
“I don’t know that for certain. Neither do you, Truesdale. And you must admit, the woman seems to be telling the truth.”
“Still, it’s only Binick’s records that tie her to David. Even she doesn’t believe—”
“I don’t care what she believes. I have to know. Go after her, Truesdale.”
“You heard what she said. She’s not going to let you see him.”
“Offer her what you have to. Do what you have to, but get her to change her mind! I must see that boy!”
“You can’t know if he’s David’s just by seeing him.”
“I’ll know,” Louie Demerchant said with all the proud illogic of a hopeful great-grandparent, grasping at the smallest straw.
Marc shook his head, face-to-face with the futility of arguing with a man who was currently fully tanked up with emotion and running absolutely empty on reason. “All right. I’ll go after her and see what I can do.”
“Good man,” Demerchant said as he clapped Marc on the back.
Marc silently cursed himself for being a sap as he headed toward the back of the courtroom.
Nothing about this errand was going to be easy. Even getting close to Remy Westbrook was a monumental task. The hallway outside the courtroom was a mob scene of reporters pushing cameras and microphones at the lady as she tried to weave her way out. Marc watched and listened and waited for his chance.
“Dr. Westbrook, won’t you take a moment to talk to us?”
“No. I’ve been drawn into this spotlight against my will and I refuse to remain in it a second longer.”
“What name did you give David Demerchant’s son?”
“I didn’t have David Demerchant’s son.”
“What is your son’s name?”
“Westbrook.”
“You’re going to throw away a billion dollars?”
“Please, let me pass.”
“Are you really planning to keep the Demerchants away from your son?”
“Excuse me, please,” she said, still maintaining her mellow tone as she squeezed forward.
She squirmed through the crowd, pushed open a hallway door marked Women, and disappeared quickly inside. The sign on the door immediately halted the male reporters just outside it. They set their cameras down to wait.
Marc saw his chance and took it. He dove through the throng. Then, much to everyone’s surprise, he burst through the door with the Women sign on it.
He knew this door. It was the one he had come through this morning. Despite its outside labeling, it led to an exit stairwell as well as to the ladies’ room. Marc suspected the former was where Remy was really headed.
The moment the door closed behind him, he heard the quick click-clack of her high-heeled shoes on the metal stairs about a flight and a half below. He had been right. He hurried down the stairs after her. But even in those heels she moved fast. It took some effort to catch her.
“Dr. Westbrook, I have to talk to you,” he called.
Remy had always prided herself on keeping her cool, but this untenable situation was sorely testing her patience. She recognized the arrogant attorney’s voice right away. She kept moving down the stairs as fast as she could as she sent her response back to him. “No.”
His words followed her, as did the sound of his footsteps.
“Dr. Westbrook, I’m sorry about your being dragged into all this. Believe me, I’m on your side. I don’t think your child is David’s, either. I agree that Binick probably selected your record from his files only because the timing would sound right to the jury. He’s just using you and your child in order to try to lower the settlement Louie Demerchant will get in his suit against Bio-Sperm.”
Remy halted on the next landing and whirled on him. “If that’s really what you believe, Truesdale, why did you insist on so ruthlessly exposing my personal life on the stand?”
“Because I thought you were lying. At first.”
His deep-set, cobalt blue eyes stared at her as they had since the moment she had stepped into the courtroom. Their focused intensity was laser blue hot. His body was a tall, lean inverted triangle in a perfectly cut dark blue suit. The stairwell lights lit the thick polished brass of his hair, a color that perfectly matched his far-too-brassy manner.
But the smile he flashed her now was pure charm and overlaid that hard, finely chiseled professional face with an impossibly engaging light of boyish sincerity.
He was so obviously one of those men gifted from birth to simply fly over those obstacles that clobbered the rest of humanity. She thoroughly resented that in him. But resisting that surprisingly boyish smile was something even she was finding very difficult to do.
“Why did you think I was lying?” she asked.
“I thought you were in on this nasty scheme to get Louie Demerchant to think he has a great-grandchild. Binick knows Louie Demerchant would love to believe it’s true. He’s playing on the old man’s emotions, banking on the false hope working to his advantage. If the jury thinks there’s a great-grandchild, Binick believes they might deny Louie’s claim to damages or, at least, lower the damages.”
“I...see. Well, I’m sorry for Mr. Demerchant if that’s what Binick’s doing, but none of this has anything to do with me. Now, I really must go.”
As she turned, she heard the stairwell door a few flights up swing open. The pounding of the quickly descending footsteps told Remy that the news reporters were hot on her heels again. Should she take a chance and try to outrun them? If only she had time to change back into the running shoes stuffed in her shoulder bag!
She felt Marc’s hand on her arm.
“They’ll be here any minute,” he said. “This is the third floor. Duck in here and you can take the elevator down the rest of the way. That should throw them off.”
She nodded and sailed past as he pulled the door open for her. She got her bearings quickly and headed directly toward the third-floor elevators.
As soon as she reached the circle of elevators, she pressed the Down button. She felt Marc Truesdale move behind her, and then his hand was on her shoulder. She turned at his touch.
“Dr. Westbrook, I need to talk to you.”
His hand felt solid and strong and fired tiny trickles of warmth through her shoulder. She knew she could step back and shake it off. But she didn’t. He seemed to be on her side now. She decided she could forgive his earlier transgressions.
Besides, she liked the feel of that strong hand. She also liked the sophisticated, woodsy after-shave that clung to that finely chiseled chin beneath that boyish smile. She couldn’t deny the guy was handsome as hell, and all her female parts were happily sitting up and taking notice.
“What about?” she asked.
“Louie Demerchant believes if he sees your child, he’ll be able to know if—”
Remy felt an instant anger whip through her. She jerked back, quickly shaking off his hand. She kept her outward cool, but only just, as she quickly interrupted.
“First, you assure me you don’t believe my child is David Demerchant’s, and then you want me to parade him before Louie Demerchant so he can decide. What do you take me for, a fool?”
“No. Of course not. But don’t you see? Because of Binick’s deviousness, this claim of a great-grandchild is going to haunt Louie Demerchant until he can see for himself that your child can’t possibly be David’s.”
“And you think one look will assure him of that?”
That simple, boyish sincerity just oozed out of his smile. “I hope so.”
Remy silently cursed herself for being such a gullible sap. She should never have allowed herself to be taken in by that handsome face and boyish smile. No substance lay behind them. They were only weapons this man wielded to get his way.
“You hope so. Yeah, right, Truesdale. Well, forget it. Neither you nor your client are getting anywhere near my son.”
A downward-heading elevator dinged as it stopped on the third floor. Remy swung around to step inside its opening doors. Both of Marc’s hands landed on her shoulders this time and whirled her back to face him, forcibly staying her retreat.
The boyish smile faded into one flooded with earnest desperation. “Look, it’s not going to hurt your son for Louie Demerchant just to look at him.”
Remy angrily shook his hands off her shoulders once again. “Listen, Truesdale. This is over. I never want to see you or Demerchant or Binick again, do you understand?”
“Please—”
“Your pleases are wasted on me. Now, go away and leave me alone.”
She swung back to the elevator at the same instant that its doors closed in her face.
She sucked in an enormous breath and began to count to ten.
“Sorry,” Marc said from behind her, not sounding sorry at all. “While we’re waiting for another elevator, you can tell me about your son.”
Remy’s hands balled into fists. She told herself sternly that she must not lose her cool. She must remain in control. Otherwise, she was going to end up decking this guy.
Suddenly, the stairwell door they had exited a few moments before crashed open. Remy’s eyes darted to the sound in time to see a horde of newspeople come spilling out onto the third floor. It took only a second for them to spot Marc and Remy.
“There they are!” one of the reporters shouted, as they all took off at a run. Remy groaned. Marc swung boldly forward into the reporters’ path, his hands raised in a halting motion.
