Chapter 3 - THE FIRST CHRISTMAS WITHOUT HIM
At 6:15 Christmas morning, Ethan woke up screaming.
Claire rushed upstairs, one hand against her belly.
“Baby? What's wrong?”
Ethan was sitting upright in bed, clutching his stuffed dinosaur.
“Daddy didn't come home.”
Claire stopped at the doorway.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
Then she sat beside him.
“I know, sweetheart.”
“He promised pancakes.”
“I remember.”
“Did he forget?”
Claire brushed his hair away from his forehead.
“No. He made a choice.”
Ethan looked confused.
“What choice?”
Claire swallowed.
“Sometimes grown-ups make choices that hurt other people. That's not your fault.”
Ethan's eyes filled.
“Is Daddy mad at me?”
The question broke something inside her.
“Oh, honey. No.”
She pulled him against her chest.
“Your daddy's decisions have nothing to do with how much you deserve to be loved.”
At 7:30, they made pancakes together.
At 8:10, the doorbell rang.
Claire expected a delivery.
Instead, she found Brooke Mercer standing beneath the porch light.
She wore a cream cashmere coat, black leather boots, and a diamond necklace Claire recognized immediately.
The necklace had appeared on the private credit card statement three weeks earlier.
Brooke smiled.
“Good morning, Claire.”
Claire didn't move.
“Why are you here?”
Brooke looked past her.
“Grant left his watch in my car.”
Claire stared at her.
“Then you should have mailed it.”
Brooke's smile tightened.
“I thought it would be better to bring it personally.”
Behind Claire, Ethan appeared.
“Mom? Who is that?”
Brooke's eyes moved to the child.
For a brief moment, something unpleasant crossed her expression.
Then she crouched.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Ethan stepped behind his mother's leg.
Claire opened the door just enough to take the small black box Brooke held.
“Thank you.”
Brooke didn't release it.
“You know, Claire, Grant has been very unhappy for a long time.”
Claire looked at her fingers gripping the box.
“Then perhaps you should discuss his happiness with him.”
Brooke lowered her voice.
“You can't keep him trapped forever.”
Claire finally understood.
Brooke hadn't come to return a watch.
She had come to see whether Claire was broken.
“Listen carefully,” Claire said. “You are standing on my property on Christmas morning. My son is watching you. Whatever fantasy you've created about becoming part of this family, leave him out of it.”
Brooke's expression hardened.
“You don't own him.”
Claire released the box.
“No. But I own the house.”
She closed the door.
At 9:22, Grant called again.
This time, Claire answered.
“What did Brooke want?”
“She's returning your watch.”
“My watch?”
“The one she brought.”
Grant exhaled.
“Claire, this is ridiculous.”
“Then stop sending your mistress to my house.”
“She's not my mistress.”
Claire almost admired his commitment to the lie.
“Fine. What is she?”
“An employee.”
“An employee wearing a necklace purchased with company money?”
Silence.
Then Grant's voice dropped.
“Where did you get that information?”
“From the company's records.”
“You had no right to access those accounts.”
Claire laughed softly.
“That's an interesting thing to say to a woman who owns thirty-eight percent of the company.”
The silence became absolute.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Your father left you some shares. That doesn't make you an executive.”
“No. It makes me a shareholder with voting rights.”
Grant swore.
“Howard told me those shares were held in a noncontrolling trust.”
“Howard told you many things.”
“Claire, listen to me. You're pregnant. You're exhausted. You're making decisions without understanding the consequences.”
“I'm understanding them very clearly.”
“You cannot interfere with company operations.”
“Then you should have stopped using company money to finance your personal life.”
Grant's voice turned dangerous.
“Don't threaten me.”
“I'm not threatening you.”
She looked toward Ethan, who was carefully arranging his new toy cars.
“I'm informing you.”
At 10:04, Arthur called.
The independent auditors had found additional irregularities.
Several payments had been routed through a subsidiary called Northstar Consulting.
The company had received more than $1.2 million over eight months.
No legitimate services had been documented.
But that wasn't the worst discovery.
One of the payments had been made to a medical facility in Boston.
The recipient's name was Brooke Mercer.
Claire stared at the screen.
“Why would a logistics company pay a medical facility for Brooke?”
Arthur was quiet.
“There's another document attached.”
Claire opened it.
A prenatal appointment.
A blood test.
A projected due date.
Her stomach tightened.
Brooke was pregnant.
And according to the document, she was due in approximately seven weeks.
Claire slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“Arthur?”
“Yes?”
“Does Grant know?”
“I believe so.”
Before Claire could ask another question, a new email arrived.
The sender was Brooke Mercer.
The subject line contained six words.
You deserve to know about the baby.
And attached was a photograph.
Grant was standing beside Brooke in a hospital room, holding a newborn-sized ultrasound image.
On the back, someone had written:
Our new beginning.
Claire stared at it.
Then she noticed the date.
The ultrasound was taken six months earlier.
Three months before Brooke had supposedly started experiencing emergencies.
Three months before Grant had begun coming home late.
Three months before Claire had discovered the first suspicious charge.
Her husband hadn't simply started an affair.
May you like
He had built another life while she was carrying his child.
And according to the next message, Brooke wasn't planning to keep that life separate anymore.
