The Rabbit Girl Who Shook the Walker Family Chapter 01
No one in the Walker family was known for being warm. In that house, affection was like the unopened water bottles on a conference table: present, untouched, and mostly for show. Then, one rainy night, a three-and-a-half-year-old girl stood at the gate of the Walker estate, clutching a stuffed rabbit.
Everything changed after that.
She stood on tiptoe and pressed the doorbell.
In a tiny, baby-soft voice, she said, “I’m looking for Lucas Walker.”
The butler looked down at her. The little girl pulled a wrinkled hospital bill from her rabbit-shaped backpack and added solemnly, “Mommy said Daddy owes me three years of child support.”
That night, the main hall of the Walker estate was full. The collateral branches of the Walker family were pressing Old Mr. Walker to finalize the succession list and the trust beneficiaries.
When Lucas heard the word “Daddy,” the pen in his hand stopped over the document.
The little girl looked up at him, her eyes red.
“Are you Lucas?”
“Mommy said if I had nothing to eat, I should come find you and ask you to pay what you owe.”
The next second, the stuffed rabbit in her arms fell to the floor. The stuffed rabbit’s belly split open, revealing half of an old voice recorder.
…
A Walker family dinner had never been an ordinary dinner. Twelve people sat at the long table. Twenty-six carefully plated dishes were laid out. Since the meal began, knives and forks had touched porcelain only three times. Old Mr. Walker sat at the head of the table, his cane leaning against his chair. A document lay in front of him.
The first page read:
Revised List of Walker Family Trust Beneficiaries and Territorial Interests.
John Walker, representing one of the family’s collateral branches, lifted his coffee cup. His silver spoon touched the rim twice.
“Dad, Sophie is older now.”
“She has spent years helping with the Walker Charitable Foundation, and people speak well of her.”
“I think she should be added to the list this time.”
Rachel Coleman, sitting beside him, joined in.
“That’s right. Sophie carries the Walker name.”
“We can’t let the other families laugh at us and say the Walker family has no one in the next generation who can hold the room.”
On the other side of the long table, Sophie Walker sat in a white dress. She was seven this year, sitting with her back perfectly straight. When she heard the adults mention her, she put down her spoon.
“Grandpa, I’ll work hard.”
Old Mr. Walker did not nod. He looked toward the other end of the long table. Lucas sat there, his suit cuffs neat, the plate in front of him almost untouched. He was reading an acquisition contract for a holding company. Dinner was only halfway over, and he was already on page nine. Old Mr. Walker frowned.
“Lucas.”
Lucas looked up.
“Yes, Dad.”
“What do you think about the list?”
Lucas closed the contract.
“We follow the Walker family trust agreement.”
Three words. Nothing more. No one at the table looked surprised. Lucas had always been like this. If a contract could settle it, Lucas did not talk about feelings.
If numbers could settle it, feelings never entered the conversation. The smile on John’s face faded a little.
“Lucas, family business can’t all be handled by the Walker family trust agreement.”
“Sophie is still a Walker child.”
Lucas was about to speak when the doorbell rang.
Ding-dong.
The sound was barely audible, but it still made the butler freeze. The Walker estate was heavily guarded. Armed guards patrolled the gate all year long. At this hour, no one should have been there. It was still raining outside.
Rain lashed the floor-to-ceiling windows, hard enough to blur the glass. The butler hurried out. A short while later, he came back. His face was drawn tight.
“Sir, there’s a child at the gate.”
Old Mr. Walker looked up.
“Whose child?”
The butler hesitated.
“She said she is looking for Mr. Lucas.”
The long table fell silent. John laughed first.
“Lucas, since when do your clients come in toddler size?”
Rachel’s lips curved too.
“The child came all the way to the gate. Must be one hell of an urgent client.”
Lucas did not respond. The room went quiet. He put down the document and stood. When the gate of the estate opened, damp air rushed in. A little girl stood outside in the rain. She was just over three.
Rain had soaked her hair, plastering it to her forehead. She wore a faded yellow child’s raincoat and held an old stuffed rabbit in her arms. One of the rabbit’s ears had been sewn on crooked. Her backpack was wet in one corner too. The little girl looked up at him. Her eyes were round.
She glanced at the butler, then at Lucas as he came out.
“Are you Lucas?”
Lucas stopped on the steps. Few people ever called him by his full name. Children almost never did.
“I am.”
The little girl hugged the stuffed rabbit tighter.
Then she stood on tiptoe and said solemnly, “Daddy, you owe me three years of child support.”
The foyer lights were bright. Lucas’s hand stopped on his cuff link. The butler drew in a breath and did not dare make a sound. The people at the long table heard it too. Sophie was the first to lean over and look. Rachel set down her cup, her gaze sharpening.
John let out a laugh.
