Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE WALLS
Claire stared at the ringing phone.
She had purchased it six weeks earlier from a convenience store forty miles from the mansion.
She had never made a call from it.
Never sent a message.
Never even turned it on until that morning.
Yet someone had found the number.
And programmed themselves into her contacts as Baby's Father.
Dominic held out his hand.
"Give it to me."
Claire stepped back.
"No."
"Claire, whoever is calling knows about our daughter."
"That's exactly why you can't answer."
The phone stopped ringing.
A message appeared.
Your husband has been warned. Don't let him take you home.
Claire read it twice.
Then she turned the screen toward Dominic.
He studied the message without speaking.
Finally, he looked toward the Gulfstream.
"Cancel the flight."
Vincent approached immediately.
"Dominic, the Rotterdam meeting—"
"Can happen without me."
"That dispute could cost us forty million dollars."
Dominic turned toward him.
"My wife and daughter are being threatened. Do you seriously think I care about Rotterdam?"
Vincent said nothing.
Dominic pointed toward the terminal.
"Find out who had access to that aircraft. I want the original recording device preserved. No one leaves until federal airport security has been notified about the threats against the Parker family."
Vincent's expression tightened.
"Federal security?"
"A teenager was threatened with a gun on an airport runway. You think we can pretend that didn't happen?"
Claire looked at her husband.
She had expected him to silence everyone.
Instead, he was demanding records.
It was a small difference.
But it was the first time she had seen him choose accountability over control.
Twenty minutes later, Claire sat in a private terminal office with a bottle of water between her hands.
Dominic stood near the window.
Neither had spoken since leaving the runway.
Finally, Claire broke the silence.
"I wasn't going to tell you about the baby."
"I gathered that."
"I was going to leave the country after she was born."
Dominic turned.
"You had a passport?"
"Not yet."
"Money?"
"Enough to get started."
"And you thought I wouldn't look for you?"
Claire stared at him.
"That's what frightened me."
Dominic absorbed the answer.
Then he sat across from her.
"Tell me what happened five months ago."
Claire hesitated.
"The first envelope arrived the day after my pregnancy test."
"Where?"
"Under our bedroom door."
Dominic frowned.
"The bedroom door?"
"Yes."
"Not the front door?"
"No."
He went silent.
Their bedroom occupied the east wing of the mansion.
Only four people possessed unrestricted access to that floor.
Dominic.
Claire.
Vincent.
And the longtime housekeeper, Margaret Bell.
"Did Margaret know?"
"She found me crying afterward."
"What did you tell her?"
"That I was worried about something."
"Did she ask about the envelope?"
Claire shook her head.
"She said some things were better left alone."
Dominic stood.
That answer bothered him.
Margaret had worked for his family for nearly thirty years.
She had raised him after his mother died.
If there was one person Dominic trusted without reservation, it was Margaret.
But trust was precisely what someone had been exploiting.
His phone rang.
A security technician named Owen Brooks was calling.
"Boss, we checked the mansion's internal cameras."
"And?"
"Someone disabled the east-wing cameras fourteen times in five months."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"Who?"
"Every interruption was authorized through Mr. Mercer's administrative credentials."
Dominic looked toward the terminal door.
Vincent stood outside, speaking with two guards.
"Send me the records."
"There's something else," Owen said.
"The interruptions always happened between two and four in the morning."
Dominic lowered his voice.
"Did anyone enter my wife's room?"
"We can't tell. The footage is missing."
Claire watched her husband.
"What is it?"
Dominic ended the call.
"Someone has been turning off our cameras."
She closed her eyes.
"I knew it."
"What?"
"I heard footsteps."
Dominic moved closer.
"Where?"
"Outside the bedroom. Sometimes inside."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"Because you were never there."
The accusation wasn't loud.
It didn't need to be.
Dominic had spent most nights at his Manhattan office, returning shortly before sunrise.
He had called it protecting her.
Claire had experienced it as abandonment.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She looked startled.
He hadn't apologized in months.
"Sorry doesn't make this disappear."
"I know."
By late afternoon, Dominic had arranged for Claire to stay in a private apartment in Manhattan.
It belonged to a retired attorney named Rebecca Sloan, who had represented his legitimate businesses for years.
Rebecca was sixty-one, sharp-eyed, and unimpressed by Dominic's reputation.
When she opened the door, she looked at Claire's oversized coat.
Then at Dominic.
"Why is your wife dressed for January?"
"She's been threatened," Dominic answered.
Rebecca stepped aside.
"Then she needs somewhere safe, a doctor, and a lawyer who answers to her. Not another room full of your employees."
Dominic didn't argue.
Claire noticed.
Rebecca led her into a quiet bedroom overlooking the Hudson River.
"You can lock this door," she said. "And Dominic doesn't have a key."
Claire's eyes filled unexpectedly.
"Thank you."
Rebecca waited until Dominic left to speak with the building's security team.
Then she sat beside Claire.
"Tell me something, sweetheart. Do you want to go home with him?"
Claire shook her head.
"Not yet."
"Good. Then you won't."
For the first time in months, Claire believed someone might actually mean that.
At seven that evening, Dominic received a call from Marcus Parker.
Eli's father was crying.
"My wife and daughter are safe. Your people brought them to a hotel."
"Good."
"But Eli told me something."
Dominic straightened.
"What?"
"He said the man who threatened him had a woman's voice."
Dominic frowned.
"A woman?"
"She used some kind of voice changer on the first call. But it stopped working for a second."
"Did he recognize her?"
"No. But she said something strange."
Dominic waited.
"She told him, 'The baby is the only thing that matters.'"
Dominic looked through the apartment window.
Across the room, Claire sat on the couch with Rebecca.
Her hand rested protectively over her stomach.
"Marcus, I need Eli to speak with an investigator."
"He will."
Dominic ended the call.
Then Owen called again.
"Boss, I recovered one deleted camera clip."
"Show me."
A video appeared on Dominic's phone.
The timestamp read 2:17 A.M.
Six weeks earlier.
Claire was asleep.
Someone opened the bedroom door.
A woman entered.
She wore dark clothing and carried a small silver medical case.
Dominic watched her approach the bed.
She stood beside Claire for nearly thirty seconds.
Then she reached toward the sleeping woman's stomach.
The camera image flickered.
When it returned, the woman was leaving.
Her face remained hidden.
But as she turned, a gold bracelet slipped from beneath her sleeve.
Dominic recognized it.
He had purchased that bracelet in Paris.
For Margaret Bell.
On her sixtieth birthday.
He immediately called the mansion.
Margaret answered.
"Dominic? Is everything all right?"
"Margaret, where are you?"
"In the kitchen, dear."
"Don't leave."
A pause.
"Why?"
"Because I need to ask you something."
Another pause.
Then Margaret whispered something he hadn't expected.
"Is Claire finally safe?"
Dominic went still.
"Why would you ask that?"
Margaret began crying.
May you like
"Because I've been waiting five months for you to realize what Vincent has done."
And the line went dead.
