Chapter 2 - The Heartbeat Behind the Door
I went into the ultrasound room without answering him.
The door closed between us.
It should have made me feel safer.
Instead, I stood with my back against it for three full seconds while my pulse hammered beneath my skin.
Dr. Evelyn Hart looked up from her computer.
She was in her early fifties, calm-eyed and practical, the kind of physician who could recognize panic without embarrassing you by naming it.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
It came out too quickly.
She glanced toward the door.
“Someone followed you.”
“My ex-husband.”
Understanding softened her expression.
“The father?”
I removed my coat.
“That depends on whether you’re asking biologically or emotionally.”
Dr. Hart wisely said nothing.
Ten minutes later, I was lying beneath the dimmed lights while the monitor glowed beside me.
I had seen the baby twice before.
A tiny shape becoming more recognizable every time.
Until that moment, however, the pregnancy had belonged entirely to me.
My secret.
My responsibility.
My fear.
Then the sound filled the room.
Fast.
Steady.
Alive.
The heartbeat.
My eyes burned.
Dr. Hart smiled.
“One hundred forty-eight. Strong.”
I laughed softly through tears.
Outside the room, something scraped against the wall.
I knew instantly.
Adrian.
He had stayed.
Dr. Hart heard it too.
“Would you like me to ask him to leave?”
I stared at the door.
“Yes.”
But the word never came.
Instead, I whispered, “No.”
She continued the examination.
Measurements.
Images.
Questions.
Everything looked normal.
The baby was developing well.
My blood pressure was good.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, one thought kept circling.
Vanessa Russo.
Why was Adrian here with Vanessa’s medical file?
When the appointment ended, Dr. Hart handed me several ultrasound photographs.
I slipped them into my purse.
Then I opened the door.
Adrian was standing directly across from it.
Marco had moved farther down the corridor.
Adrian’s hands were in his coat pockets, but his face had changed.
He had heard everything.
His eyes were red.
Not crying.
Adrian Moretti probably considered tears an unacceptable breach of contract.
But close.
“You heard it,” I said.
His throat moved.
“Yes.”
I started walking.
He followed.
“Claire.”
“No.”
“I need five minutes.”
“You had three years.”
His steps stopped.
Mine didn’t.
Then he said something that made me stop.
“I didn’t divorce you because of Vanessa.”
I turned slowly.
“Interesting. Because you’re standing in a maternity hospital while your employee carries her medical file.”
“She isn’t my employee.”
“First love, then. Forgive me.”
“She’s dying.”
The bitterness left my mouth before I could speak.
Adrian looked toward Marco.
“Vanessa has acute myeloid leukemia.”
I stared at him.
“She relapsed six weeks ago. She’s here for testing before another treatment cycle.”
The anger inside me shifted but did not disappear.
“I’m sorry she’s ill.”
“So am I.”
“That still doesn’t explain our divorce.”
“No.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked at me.
And for one hopeful second, I thought he would.
Instead, Adrian said, “I can’t.”
I laughed.
There it was.
The wall.
The same wall that had ended our marriage.
“You can’t?”
“Not here.”
“You had sixty-three days to find somewhere appropriate.”
I walked toward the elevators.
He caught up but did not touch me.
“Does anyone else know about the baby?”
“My doctor.”
“Claire.”
“And me.”
“Your family?”
“No.”
His expression tightened.
“You’ve been doing this alone?”
I hit the elevator button.
“I learned from you.”
That landed.
The doors opened.
Before I could step inside, Marco approached.
“Adrian.”
Something in his tone changed the air.
He held his phone toward him.
Adrian read the screen.
His face became completely still.
“What?” I asked despite myself.
Neither answered.
Then Marco looked at me.
Not at Adrian.
At me.
“We need to get Ms. Bennett somewhere secure.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you talking about?”
Adrian took the phone from him.
“Who sent it?”
“Unknown number.”
“Sent what?”
Adrian tried to pocket the phone.
I grabbed his wrist.
“Show me.”
“Claire—”
“Show me.”
For a second, we stared at each other like we had during our marriage whenever neither of us intended to surrender.
Then he turned the screen toward me.
It was a photograph.
Taken less than ten minutes earlier.
Me in the hospital corridor.
One hand over my stomach.
Adrian facing me.
Underneath were seven words.
NOW YOU KNOW WHAT SHE WAS HIDING.
My blood went cold.
“Who took that?”
“We’ll find out.”
“No. Who knew I would be here?”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“My appointment was private.”
Adrian looked toward the elevators, the stairwell, then the corridor.
The man who had been devastated by his child’s heartbeat disappeared.
In his place was the Adrian Moretti I remembered from boardrooms and midnight phone calls.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
Decisive.
“Marco, lock down the entrances.”
“You can’t lock down a Manhattan hospital.”
“Watch me.”
I grabbed his arm.
“You don’t get to take over my life because you discovered I’m pregnant.”
His gaze dropped to my stomach.
“I’m not taking over your life.”
“You’re already ordering people around.”
“Because someone photographed my pregnant ex-wife without her knowledge and sent it to my private security chief within minutes.”
I froze.
“Marco received it?”
“Yes.”
That mattered.
The sender hadn’t merely recognized us.
They knew who Marco was.
They knew how to reach him.
Adrian lowered his voice.
“Come with me.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“I am not going home with you.”
“I didn't say my home.”
“Where, then?”
He hesitated.
“The Mercer Hotel.”
I almost laughed.
“You own it.”
“I own forty-one percent.”
“That distinction is really comforting.”
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Then his phone rang.
He checked the caller.
Vanessa.
Something passed across his face.
Fear.
He answered immediately.
“Vanessa?”
I hated that hearing her name still hurt.
Then Adrian’s expression changed.
“What happened?”
He listened.
Marco came closer.
“Who was there?” Adrian asked.
Another pause.
His eyes found mine.
“What did he ask you?”
Whatever Vanessa said made every trace of color leave Adrian’s face.
“Do not tell him anything. I’m coming upstairs.”
He disconnected.
“What happened?” Marco asked.
Adrian stared at me.
“A man went into Vanessa’s room pretending to be hospital staff.”
My hand tightened around my purse.
“What did he want?”
Adrian answered without looking away.
“He asked Vanessa whether Claire knew why I divorced her.”
The elevator doors opened behind us.
May you like
Nobody moved.
And suddenly my pregnancy was no longer the only secret in that hospital.
