Chapter 3 - The HeartbeatThe reception began beautifully.
Champagne flowed.
Music filled the ballroom.
Guests congratulated us.
Grant played the perfect husband.
Natalie played the perfect sister.
My mother played the proud mother of the bride.
And I played along.
For twenty minutes.
Then I stepped onto the small stage.
The microphone was waiting.
Grant stood beside me.
“What are you doing?” he whispered.
I smiled.
“I have a surprise.”
The room quieted.
I held up the little blue teddy bear.
“I bought this months ago.”
Grant smiled.
I pressed the button.
The speakers filled with a soft rhythm.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
A baby's heartbeat.
The room went silent.
Then people began crying.
My mother covered her mouth.
Grant stared at the speakers.
I watched him.
His face had gone pale.
Not because he was emotional.
Because he understood something.
The recording wasn't the only thing being played.
Jenna had connected my phone to the sound system.
The heartbeat ended.
Then Grant's voice filled the ballroom.
“The baby only matters until she signs.”
Gasps erupted.
Natalie froze.
My mother stood.
“Claire…”
Grant looked at me.
“What did you do?”
I stepped away from him.
The recording continued.
“She loves me. That's more useful than ignorance.”
A woman screamed.
Someone dropped a glass.
Natalie shook her head.
“No.”
The next sentence played.
“After the ceremony, everything gets easier.”
Then:
“If Claire becomes difficult after the baby is born, a good attorney can do a lot with an emotionally unstable mother.”
My mother began crying.
Grant lunged toward the sound booth.
Uncle Robert stepped in front of him.
“Don't.”
Grant stopped.
“You don't understand.”
Robert's voice was cold.
“I understand perfectly.”
Paul Wexler opened the gray folder.
“Mr. Hayes, I suggest you listen carefully.”
Grant looked around.
Two hundred guests were staring.
Some were filming.
Others were whispering.
Natalie approached me.
“Claire, please.”
I looked at her.
“You lied to me for three years.”
She began crying.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
She didn't answer.
“After you took the company?”
“It's not like that.”
“Then explain it.”
She couldn't.
Grant finally spoke.
“This is a private conversation.”
I laughed.
“No.”
I looked around the ballroom.
“You made it a business conversation when you planned to take my company.”
Then Paul raised another document.
“There's more.”
He placed it on the table.
“Your father anticipated this possibility.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Paul looked at me.
“Your father created a secondary trust.”
Grant's face changed.
“What trust?”
Paul smiled.
“One you were never supposed to know about.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because your father didn't trust the people around you.”
My mother lowered her head.
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
She cried harder.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
She couldn't answer.
Then Paul said:
“Your father left one final instruction.”
“What?”
“Never give Grant Hayes control of Whitmore Foods.”
Silence.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message.
Claire, your father wasn't protecting you from Grant. He was protecting you from someone much closer.
I looked toward my mother.
She was staring at the message.
May you like
And she whispered:
“Oh God.”
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