Chapter 3 - TWO HEARTBEATS
Roman had commanded armed men through firefights with less fear than he felt riding in the back of the SUV with Claire curled against the seat beside him.
“Five minutes,” Matteo called from the front.
“Make it three.”
“I can’t make Boston traffic disappear.”
“Then invent a way.”
Claire groaned.
Roman immediately forgot Matteo existed.
“Look at me.”
“I don’t want to look at you.”
“Fine. Look at the window.”
Despite everything, a breath that might have been a laugh escaped her.
Another contraction came.
Roman watched helplessly as she squeezed the door handle.
He reached toward her, then stopped.
Claire noticed.
“You can hold my hand.”
Roman looked at her.
“Are you sure?”
“No. But do it anyway.”
He took her hand.
She nearly crushed his fingers.
Roman welcomed the pain.
They were headed toward Massachusetts General, but Matteo had quietly warned the emergency department while withholding Claire’s name.
Roman no longer trusted the family doctor.
He no longer trusted the security network around his townhouse.
At that moment he barely trusted his own shadow.
When the SUV reached the private hospital entrance, physicians were waiting.
Claire was placed in a wheelchair.
Roman followed.
A nurse blocked him.
“Sir, we need to assess her.”
“I’m her husband.”
Claire looked back.
For seven months Roman had imagined their reunion in a hundred ways.
In none of them had she been wheeled away while he stood powerless beneath fluorescent hospital lights.
Then Claire said, “Let him come.”
Roman followed.
The examination lasted twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes in which Roman learned two things.
First, Claire was indeed thirty-five weeks pregnant with twins.
Second, only one of the babies appeared ready to enter the world.
The obstetrician, Dr. Ava Morgan, pointed toward the monitor.
“Twin A is head-down. Twin B is transverse.”
Roman stared at the grainy shapes.
Two babies.
His babies.
Claire watched his expression.
“You really didn’t know.”
He looked at her.
“Would I look this terrified if I did?”
Dr. Morgan almost smiled.
Then her expression became serious.
“Claire’s blood pressure is elevated. One baby’s heart rate is showing occasional decelerations. We may need to deliver today.”
Roman’s entire body tightened.
“Do whatever is necessary.”
Claire immediately looked at him.
Roman caught himself.
He turned toward her.
“I mean—whatever you decide with the doctor.”
The distinction mattered.
Claire saw that.
Dr. Morgan continued the examination.
Roman stepped into the hall afterward.
Matteo was waiting.
“So?”
“Twins.”
Matteo blinked.
The man had once taken a bullet through his forearm without changing expression.
“Two?”
Roman stared at him.
“That is generally what twins means.”
Matteo nodded slowly.
“Congratulations?”
Roman almost laughed.
Instead he held out his hand.
“Phone.”
Matteo gave him a secure device.
“I want every person who worked inside my townhouse during the month before Claire disappeared.”
“Staff?”
“Everyone. Housekeeping. Kitchen. Drivers. Contractors. Security. Family.”
Matteo hesitated.
“Adrian too?”
Roman looked at him.
“Especially Adrian.”
The search began immediately.
Within an hour, information started arriving.
Kitchen camera system accessed at 2:14 a.m. the night Claire disappeared.
Override authorized by a senior-level security credential.
Only four people possessed one.
Roman.
Matteo.
Adrian.
And Roman’s longtime head of household security, Victor Dane.
Roman stared at the names.
Matteo noticed.
“I never accessed the system that night.”
“I know.”
“You trust me?”
Roman looked at him.
“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be standing here.”
“What about Victor?”
Roman said nothing.
Victor Dane had protected Roman since Roman was twenty-one.
He had attended Roman’s wedding.
He had carried Claire out of the car when she sprained her ankle during their honeymoon.
He was practically family.
That was precisely why Roman felt sick.
Matteo’s phone buzzed.
Another message.
He read it.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The sedan that followed us from Chelsea was found abandoned near Everett.”
“Driver?”
“Gone.”
“Anything inside?”
“A burner phone.”
Roman’s gaze sharpened.
“Get it.”
“Already happening.”
A nurse opened the door.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Roman entered Claire’s room.
She looked exhausted.
The monitor beside her emitted two separate rhythms.
Two heartbeats.
Roman stood at the foot of the bed.
For several seconds he simply listened.
Claire followed his gaze.
“That’s them.”
“I know.”
“They hate when I drink cold water.”
“What?”
“They start kicking.”
Roman almost smiled.
“What else?”
Claire looked surprised.
“What?”
“What else do they do?”
She hesitated.
“The one on the left moves more at night.”
“Twin A?”
“I call her Bean.”
Roman stared.
“Her?”
“Both are girls.”
Something happened to his face.
Claire looked away quickly.
Roman walked closer.
“Two daughters.”
“Yes.”
He sat in the chair beside her.
“What do you call the other one?”
“Peanut.”
“Those cannot be their legal names.”
“They’re better than Roman Junior.”
“I wasn’t planning Roman Junior.”
“Good.”
A fragile silence formed.
For a moment they almost sounded married again.
Then Claire’s expression changed.
“Roman.”
“Yes?”
“If something happens—”
“No.”
“You have to listen.”
“Nothing is going to happen.”
“You don’t get to order biology around.”
His jaw tightened.
She reached toward the bedside drawer and removed a folded document.
“I wrote this three months ago.”
He did not take it.
“What is it?”
“A guardianship request.”
Roman’s chest constricted.
“If I die, I wanted my friend Sarah to take them.”
“Who is Sarah?”
“A waitress I worked with in Providence.”
Roman almost objected.
Then he understood.
Claire had chosen someone she trusted.
Someone outside his world.
“You don’t want me to raise them.”
“I didn’t think you wanted them alive.”
Roman absorbed the sentence quietly.
That was the wound beneath every other wound.
He could destroy whoever had forged the emails.
He could find the person who threatened her.
But he could not erase seven months during which Claire genuinely believed the father of her children wanted them gone.
“I want them,” he said.
Claire looked at him.
“And I wanted you.”
Her eyes glistened.
“Then why were you never home?”
Roman had no quick answer.
“Why did every dinner end with a phone call? Why did security follow me to the grocery store? Why did you decide where I went, who drove me, what events I attended?”
“To keep you safe.”
“No. To keep control.”
Roman looked down.
“The night before I left,” Claire said, “I realized something. I couldn’t remember the last decision I made without wondering whether you would approve.”
That hurt more than accusation.
“I loved you,” she whispered. “But I was disappearing before I ever disappeared.”
Roman sat silently.
Then he said, “If you come back—”
“I’m not coming back.”
He nodded.
Claire looked surprised.
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I found you this morning. I’m not stupid enough to believe finding you means I earned you back.”
Before Claire could respond, the door opened.
Dr. Morgan entered quickly.
Her expression had changed.
“Claire, the second baby’s heart rate is dropping.”
Roman stood.
“What does that mean?”
“We’re going to monitor for another few minutes, but if it doesn’t recover, I recommend an emergency C-section.”
Claire turned pale.
Roman took her hand.
This time she reached first.
The monitor beeped faster.
Nurses entered.
Someone adjusted Claire’s IV.
Another nurse spoke rapidly into a phone.
Roman’s secure phone rang inside his pocket.
He ignored it.
It rang again.
Claire looked at him.
“You should answer.”
“No.”
“It might matter.”
“Nothing matters more than this.”
The phone stopped.
Then Matteo appeared behind the glass window in the door.
His face told Roman something had happened.
Roman stepped out only after Claire nodded.
“What?”
Matteo held up the recovered burner phone.
“We got into it.”
Roman waited.
“There’s one saved photograph.”
He turned the screen around.
Roman saw an image of Claire leaving the Chelsea pawnshop that morning.
Taken before Roman arrived.
Someone had already been watching her.
Below the photo was an outgoing text sent forty-eight minutes earlier.
TARGET CONFIRMED. MERCER APPROACHING.
Roman’s eyes became cold.
“Who received it?”
“We traced the number.”
Matteo paused.
“The phone belonged to someone inside Mercer House.”
Roman’s voice dropped.
“Who?”
Matteo looked toward Claire’s hospital room.
May you like
Then back at Roman.
“Your mother.”
