Daphne Renata.

I bit back a smile, tucking the ID back in my wallet. I was finally an acknowledged citizen of this country.

A week ago, around mid January, Chris and Nathaniel accompanied Mark and me to a few government facilities in order to finish off some procedures.

I had been extremely reluctant to go. Chris reassured me that he had everything under control, and Nathaniel came along, which settled my nerves.

Everything went smoothly. Too smoothly. And it made me realize that I truly didn't know the extent of Nathaniel and Chris' power and influence. They had been received in private offices very deferentially, away from the people lining up for the services.

Yesterday, Chris dropped off my and Mark's papers. The document I prized above all else was the one that proved my legal guardianship of Mark. When Chris had handed it to me, I had had a hard time swallowing back my tears.

I stuck my wallet in my bag, closing the locker. The café's changing room was empty but for me. Someone knocked and got in. Molly skipped inside, her curls bouncing and her usual smile lighting up her face. "Going home?"

"Yes, I'm finished for the day," I said, carrying my bag. "When do you have a shift again?"

Molly had started college again, so her shifts would be shorter and less frequent than mine.

"Saturday morning. The same as you, right?"

"Yeah. I'll see you on Saturday, then," I called, leaving the changing room.

"See you, D!"

Mark and I left for the house. It was a short walk away, and the weather was stable nowadays.

"What are we having for dinner?" Mark asked as I unlocked the apartment door.

"I don't know yet," I replied. Taking off my scarf and my coat, I hung them in the entryway closet. "What do you want?"

"Chicken pie," Mark replied.

"We had that yesterday," I said.

"Chicken pie," he said again, taking off his coat. I went to take it from him but he hung it next to mine on his own.

I sighed. "There's still some leftover. I'll heat it up for you and just whip something light for me. Nathaniel is having dinner outside."

Mark nodded, his smile satisfied as he went inside ahead of me. Over the last month, he had changed in a way I never thought was possible. At least around Nathaniel, Claire and me.

Physical contact with anyone other than me was still rare for him, but he was more verbal in his communication, he could hold longer eye contact, and he very rarely flicked his fingers anymore. He also was growing more independant and less attached to me.

The doctor had been right. Mark might not be autistic, after all. Still, we had an appointment with her tomorrow.

I was debating what to make myself for dinner when the phone rang. It was Nathaniel.

He should've been home this time of the day, but the past few days he stayed late at work. They had a big project coming up, apparently.

I didn't know the details, but he would come home exhausted, and would often complain about it during our nightly conversations after Mark went to sleep. He was supposed to be home later tonight after a business dinner.

"Hi, Daphne," His voice sounded urgent, "please tell me you're home."

"Yes. What's wrong?" I opened the fridge and scanned the shelves.

"Thank God," he breathed out. "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"I forgot some important files in my home office and I need them now. Can you please be a sweetheart and bring them over to my work? I'll send you the address."

"Okay, sure." I left the kitchen and jogged to his office. "What files should I get?"

"The first drawer on my desk, to your right," he replied as I entered his office and went around his desk. Locating the files he wanted, I grabbed them and caught Mark before he changed his clothes.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I said.

"Great," he said softly before calling in an authoritative tone. "Brenda, I want Jackson in my office right now with that contract!"

I heard a distant reply before Nathaniel's tone drastically changed again as he addressed me, "I'll be waiting for you, Daphne. Thanks a lot, love."

He hung up. The roads would be stuffed this time of the day, and the address was a few blocks away, so we went on foot.

Nathaniel's message containing the address arrived right after he hung up, but I didn't need it. I'd been in this city long enough to know Maxwell's HQ. Everyone did.

Over twenty minutes later, we were on the doors of the mighty glass and steel building. Walking through the doors, Mark and I stood out like a sore thumb. Crisp suits, high heels, fancy hairstyles. Everyone looked as immaculate as the steely interior and glimmering floor.

Mark stepped closer to me, his hand clutching my sleeve. I put my arm around his shoulder and made my way to the sprawling reception desk to the left. A young man and a woman sat behind the white desk, I headed for the woman.

"Hello, I'm here to drop some files for Nathaniel," I told her. She looked up from the screen in front of her, frowning.

"Nathaniel?" she asked, her brown eyes flickering from me to Mark.

"Uh, yes, Nathaniel Maxwell." Maybe I should've called him out instead of coming in. The phone next to her rang and the man rolled his chair closer and picked it up.

Her frown melted, and her eyebrows hiked up the smooth plane of her forehead. "Right. I'm sorry, but you'll have to take an appointment-"

"Miss Daphne?" The male receptionist said, his eyes wide.

"Um, yes."

He put the phone down and sprang up, ignoring the puzzled look of his friend. "Right this way. Mr Maxwell is waiting for you."

We followed him to a set of elevators, his pearly smile wide. He waited with us until the elevator arrived and said, "seventeenth floor, Ms Daphne."

The elevator was almost as fancy as the one in our apartment building. But when it finally opened on the seventeenth floor, I realized we were far from home.

People rushed back and forth, their movements frenzied, heels clicking on the black marble flooring, voices echoing against the shiny walls and phones ringing left and right. The stretching space was all glass offices, waiting spaces furnished with white chairs and couches. The greenery in the corners saved the space from being cold and colorless.

I clutched Mark's shoulder tighter, stepping out of the elevator before it closed on us.

"Daphne!"

I looked to the right, my shoulders easing when I spotted Nathaniel coming out of a set of double oak doors. Everyone in the hall paused, their voices dying down, looking between Nathaniel and us. A phone rang in the background. Nathaniel waved me closer, and I gladly escaped the pressing attention. Standing there with one hand in the pocket of his gray suit and the other holding the door open, he looked tall and broad-shouldered, his presence dwarfing the grand interior. He looked intimidating.

"Thank you so much," he said as we got closer, the expression on his face growing warm. I smiled.

The double doors led to a hallway much less crowded but just as elegant. We passed by an empty desk and through the only door in sight. His office.

Nathaniel's office at home was all wood and leather and warm colors. This one was a cool black and white, the monochromatic theme broken by a wide abstract painting bursting with vivid colors hung on the opposite wall of his obsidian desk. A seating area and a small meeting table facing a wall with a massive black screen.

A group of people were huddled at the meeting table, some standing, some sitting. They looked up once we walked in, most of them giving us a 'who the hell are they' look. Mark and I followed Nathaniel to his desk. I shrugged off my bag and gave him the files.

"You have no idea how much I owe you," he said, accepting the documents and looking them over. "I can't believe they forgot to back up the updated version on the company servers. You're a lifesaver."

"That important?" I asked, putting the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

"Yeah, I need to check something before the dinner we're having in a little while."

"Okay." I looked around the office. The wall behind Nathaniel's desk was ground to ceiling glass, with a view to the skyscrapers nearby and the slowly darkening sky.

"Brenda," Nathaniel called without taking his eyes off the documents.

"Yes, sir." A blonde woman rushed closer, precariously balancing on her high heels. Nathaniel handed her the other binder which she readily took.

"I want the contract checked one last time by the legal team." His business-like tone wasn't something I was used to, even Mark was frowning at him. "And where's that translator? Shouldn't he be here, by now? The dinner is in an hour and a half."

"Right away, sir." Brenda hurried back to the meeting table, picked up her phone and put it to her ear, pacing back and forth.

Nathaniel cracked his neck and looked at Mark. "Hey, Mark. Do you like my work place?"

Mark looked around, his eyes flickering to Nathaniel's. "It's not like home."

Nathaniel chuckled, dropping the file I'd brought him on his desk. "No, it's not. I kind of inherited the office. I keep telling myself to redecorate, but I never got around to it. Thank you for coming with Daphne."

"You're welcome," Mark said, standing a little taller.

I looked around the office. "I think we should get going now."

"Wait, I'll get the car ready for you," he said, leaning over his desk to pick up the landline.

"It's okay, we can go on foot."

He was about to make the call when a shrill voice made me jump.

"What?!!!"

Everyone looked at Brenda, who was fisting her hair with a horrified expression on her face. "What do you mean, an accident? Shouldn't they send a replacement!"

Nathaniel apparently knew what she was talking about. He dropped the phone and leaned against his desk, his hand covering his eyes.

"I don't care if they have to teleport someone from Denmark. I need a translator right away!" she hissed into the phone.

Danemark?

Mark's hand tightened around my sleeve. Brenda ended the phone call and turned to an awaiting Nathaniel with a pale face.

"Mr. Maxwell, the translator had an accident, just now," she said, clutching the phone in her hands tightly.

"A replacement?" Nathaniel asked, dropping his hand from his face.

"Can't provide one for a few hours at least."

Nathaniel looked at the ceiling, muttering under his breath. "Check other agencies. I need a Danish speaking person in an hour in that restaurant."

Brenda nodded vigorously, but the poor woman looked like she just aged several years from the stress.

"Daphne can speak Danish."

I looked down at Mark with wide eyes.

"You can?" Nathaniel asked, looking between Mark and I, coming to life like a shark scenting blood.

"Yes, she can speak Danish well," Mark smiled proudly. I slapped a hand on my face. Now he was being chatty.

"Daphne?" Nathaniel asked again.

I sighed. "I speak Danish, but I'm not familiar with the business jargon-"

"Oh, it's okay!" Brenda said, materializing beside me, her face hopeful. "It's just for tonight's dinner, by tomorrow we'll have another translator!"

"I don't know..." I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Daphne," Nathaniel said, and when I looked at his big dark eyes I knew I would cave in. "It's just for a couple of hours, one dinner. I'm sure you'll do great. Besides, we'll probably find another translator soon anyway. So just for a short while, yeah? please?"

I blew out a breath. "Alright, I'll do it."

Nathaniel's face broke into a huge grin that made my insides flutter in an odd way. I gave him a long look. "But if something goes wrong, it's your responsibility. I told you I'm no expert."

"You'll do just fine," Nathaniel said, chucking me under the chin.

I didn't react badly to his brief touch and I was proud of it. I had come a long way over the past few weeks, and it was mostly thanks to him.

Little by little, I had been getting used to physical contact with Nathaniel. He would let me hold his hand while we were chatting until I couldn't take it anymore, or he would brush hair out of my face, his touch feather like, or ask for high fives at completely random moments that usually had me rolling my eyes at him. He seemed to enjoy it.

I had also dealt with a number of triggers these past few weeks. My panic attacks were growing more frequent. It was as if the longer I spent in the comfort of this new life, the more my brain was purging out the previous years' trauma.

Specific words, specific situations, some sexual references. Sometimes the smallest things would set me off. But I was better at dealing with them.

"We'll see," I replied.

When I looked to the side, everyone in the office was basically gaping at Nathaniel and me. But as soon as Nathaniel turned their way, everyone went back to work.

"You guys can take a seat," Nathaniel said, walking with us to the set of sofas on the other end of his office. Mark and I settled there. Nathaniel held his phone to his ear.

"Claire... Yes, it's me. Listen." Nathaniel briefed Claire on the situation. She was going to get me a proper attire for the business dinner and stay with Mark until we were done.

I turned to Mark. He'd picked up a book from the coffee table and was looking through it. "You're okay with staying with Claire, right?"

He thought for a second before nodding. "Yes. But I won't spend the night, right? We'll sleep at home."

"Mhm, I'll be back for you." I smiled. "We'll sleep at home."

It was the first time Mark was spending time away from me. I was surprised at how well he took it. Surprised but very proud.

Thirty minutes later, Nathaniel's office was empty, safe for Mark, Nathaniel and I. There was a knock on the door before Claire burst in, her camel coat flaring around her and her cheeks flushed. She was holding a bag.

She waved me into the attached bathroom with a big grin.

The bathroom was just as pristine as the rest of the office. Claire was very excited, but she waited outside as I put on the crisp black dress. Long sleeved with a thick, warm material, it flowed down past my knees and had a modest neckline. I loved it. Claire already knew my taste well.

We only had time for a touch of makeup, much to Claire's disappointment. Leaving my hair down, I slipped into the black coat she'd brought and we stepped out of the bathroom.

Nathaniel was leaning against his desk, his hands in his pockets, he straightened up and smiled at me, "You look great."

"Thank you," I breathed out, my nerves already eating at me. We all went down to the underground parking lot. I kissed Mark's head before he waved me goodbye as he went inside Claire's car.

"Good luck, Daphne," Claire said with a wink before going into the driver's seat. I stared at Mark through the window.

"Come on," Nathaniel said, putting a hand on the small of my back. "He'll be fine. We'll get him as soon as dinner is over."

"Okay," I replied, following him to a black car where a man held the backdoor open for us. I glanced back one last time at Claire's car. She was already driving out. He'd be fine. I needed to stop worrying about him. At this point, I was the one who had dependency issues, not Mark.

I settled inside the car, the black leather interior cold under my fingertips.

"So," Nathaniel said as he sat down beside me, filling the car, "where did you learn Danish?"

My heart squeezed at the memories that his words brought forward. "Back ...there ," I said, flickering my eyes to the driver, who was focused on rolling the car out of the parking lot, "Ester, one of the women who took care of us growing up, was Danish. Mark speaks it, too."

He gave a slow nod, picking up on my somber mood. "Is she still there?" he asked softly.

I shook my head, swallowing the knot in my throat. "She passed away."

"I'm sorry."

I smiled at him before looking out the window. The night streets sparkled with lights. My thoughts drifted to Ester. She was one of the very few good memories I had of that place. She was like an older sister to Mark and I. I grew up mostly under her care and I owed her my life.

She had been too young when she left us. I linked my hands into a fist in my lap. The face of the man who killed her was imprinted in my head. I wished I could wrap my hands around his neck.

I jumped when I felt a touch on my hand.

"Sorry," Nathaniel smiled apologetically, pulling his hand back.

My hand shot up and clutched his fingers, stilling him in place. I linked my fingers with his, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips. I smiled back, looking out of the window again and letting the familiar warmth of his touch settle the pain in my heart.

"So, do you speak any other languages?"

I sighed, my thumb mindlessly rubbing circles on Nathaniel's hand. "Just English and Danish. Mark is fluent in French, though," I said. "The people we're having dinner with, don't they speak english?"

Nathaniel made a face. "Technically, I was supposed to meet up with the son. He's the one running the company right now, but his parents are coming along with him. The son can speak English, but I don't know about the parents. I don't want to rely on him to translate in case they don't. I like to be prepared."

Minutes later, the car pulled up in front of the hotel where Nathaniel's business partner stayed. Nathaniel and I went inside, past the fancy lobby and into the busy restaurant. The waiter led us to a private room, where Brenda was already seated at the long table.

She sprang up to her feet. "Good evening, sir. Mr. Andersen and his parents will be here in a few minutes."

Nathaniel nodded wordlessly, pulling my chair. "What about the translator?"

"No news yet, sir," Brenda replied as she sat down, "but Jackson said he'll be able to get one in a couple of hours..."

"Alright," Nathaniel let out a frustrated breath. Next to me, Brenda sighed discreetly.

I smoothed my hands down my lap, hoping to settle my nerves. The room had French doors that led to what looked like a private balcony. The room itself was a meld of neutral colors, from the patterned pale brown carpet to the beige walls. A big chandelier hung overhead, and I had the absurd thought that if it fell, we'd all be screwed.

Thankfully, the door opened before my thoughts could stray to more disastrous scenarios. The waiter stepped aside to let an elderly couple in, followed by a young man around Nathaniel's age.

The three of us stood up to greet the family. The two men had strikingly similar features, but the father's lined face and white hair testified to his old age. Their sharp, pale blue eyes contrasted sharply with the old woman's kind hazel gaze.

"Mr. Maxwell." The young man shook Nathaniel's hand.

"Mr. Andersen." Nathaniel smiled politely before shaking the father's hand. The young Mr. Andersen then smiled at me, holding his hand out.

I took a subtle deep breath and put my hand in his. His touch was unfamiliar, and I resisted the urge to pull my hand back, hoping he didn't notice the goosebumps crawling all over my skin.

"Hello, Emil Andersen," he said, holding my hand longer than I liked. "And you are?"

"Daphne Renata," I replied, hoping my smile looked less like a grimace.

"A pleasure," he nodded, before moving to greet Brenda next to me. Thankfully, Mr. Andersen Senior and his wife only shook my hand lightly. I had had enough contact to last me a lifetime. We all took our seats, the three Andersens across the table from us.

My hands were still trembling when I set them in my lap as the men and Brenda spoke. Apparently, only Mrs. Andersen couldn't speak English.

A warm, familiar touch blanketed my shaking hands. Nathaniel patted them, his gaze never leaving the men's as they all chatted about business.

My heart rate slowly returned to normal when I focused on Nathaniel's hand. It was funny, to think that only a couple of months after meeting him, he would have such an effect on me after all those years I had lived harboring unpleasant feelings for most of the male population.

"... right Daphne?"

I startled, looking at Brenda with wide eyes. She was smiling at me expectantly. I cleared my throat realizing I had been lost in my thoughts.

"Excuse me?" I asked her with an apologetic smile.

"I was just telling them that you can speak Danish," Brenda repeated, "right?"

"Oh, yes," I nodded looking back ahead of me to our guests, "I do."

"Oh, really?" Mr. Andersen senior nodded with an impressed look before he turned to his wife whose hazel eyes were looking kind of lost between all of us. Her old face brightened up considerably when her husband told her that I spoke the language.

"Oh, thank God! I was starting to think I'd have to go through another boring business dinner," she said in Danish, smiling at me. "Where did you learn it?"

I smiled back politely as I replied. "When I was younger, I lived for a while with a Danish lady."

The conversation around the table sailed smoothly after that. I didn't have to do much translating, just a couple of times when Mrs. Andersen addressed Nathaniel. Other than that, the men discussed business over food while I held conversation with Mrs. Andersen. It wasn't difficult since she did most of the talking.

"So, Miss Daphne," Emil said, looking between Nathaniel and me curiously, his accent barely distinguishable, "if you don't mind me asking, Mr. Maxwell and you are..."

"Friends," I replied, wiping my mouth with my napkin before setting it on the table.

"Oh, I see," Emil said as he straightened in his seat, a new sparkle entering his pale eyes. "You're very lucky, Mr Maxwell."

"I am," Nathaniel said. I glanced at him. He was looking at Emil, his face blank. Was his voice colder, or was I imagining things?

"I would argue I'm the lucky one," I said.

"I was wondering then," Emil said, leaning forward, "if you have some free time this week? I would be grateful if you showed me around the city."

Besides the fact that I wasn't comfortable being around a man I had just met, I also didn't know much about the city. I had been living with Nathaniel for a couple of months during which we barely got out except for shopping or dinner, and before that...well, before that I was roaming the streets which wasn't much help.

So even though he was Nathaniel's guest, I had to find a way to refuse politely. I opened my mouth, but Nathaniel cut me off with a firm, almost hostile voice that made everyone look at him with wide eyes.

"She can't."