Chapter 2: The Woman I Buried
“What do you mean Claire never left me?””
My mother’s face went pale.
Victoria stood beside the altar, still wearing the diamond necklace I had given her that morning. Four hundred guests watched us in suffocating silence.
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Not here.””
I laughed once.
It sounded bitter even to me.
“You lost the right to say that.””
“Nathan—”
“Eleven years ago, Claire disappeared. I received a letter saying she never wanted to see me again.””
My mother closed her eyes.
I continued.
“She returned my ring.””
“Nathan.””
“She emptied our apartment.””
“I know.””
Those two words hit me harder than a confession.
I stepped closer.
“How?””
Eleanor looked at the floor.
“How did you know the apartment was empty?””
She didn’t answer.
Victoria came between us.
“This has gone far enough.””
“No,” I said.
“Nathan, our guests—”
“Can leave.””
Her eyes widened.
“This is our wedding.””
“Then they can wait.””
Lucy was still standing beside me.
Her arms were shaking under Milo’s weight.
I immediately took the baby.
He was lighter than I expected.
Too light.
He stared up at me with enormous gray-blue eyes.
Again.
My eyes.
A strange pressure formed behind my ribs.
Lucy looked frightened when I took him, but when Milo settled against my chest, her shoulders dropped with relief.
“You’ve been carrying him a long time, haven’t you?””
She nodded.
“My arms hurt.””
That nearly broke me.
I motioned toward Marcus.
“Get food. Water. And call a pediatrician.””
Victoria whispered, “You’re behaving as though these children are yours.””
I looked at Lucy.
Then Milo.
“I don’t know whose children they are.””
Lucy frowned.
“I’m yours.””
The entire ballroom seemed to inhale.
Victoria stared at her.
“What did you say?””
Lucy looked confused by the question.
“My mommy told me.””
My hand tightened around Milo’s blanket.
“What exactly did she tell you, Lucy?””
“That Nathan Cole is my daddy.””
Somebody dropped a glass.
It shattered somewhere behind the third row.
Victoria’s face turned white.
“No.””
Lucy looked at her.
Victoria shook her head.
“No, absolutely not.””
“Victoria,” I said.
“You haven’t seen this woman in eleven years!””
“That’s what I believed.””
“Then this girl cannot possibly be four years old!””
She was right.
That fact had been hammering inside my skull since Lucy arrived.
If Claire and I had separated eleven years ago, Lucy couldn’t be my daughter.
Unless Claire and I had met again.
We hadn’t.
At least, I didn’t remember it.
I crouched beside Lucy while holding Milo.
“Sweetheart, did your mother ever tell you when she knew me?””
Lucy nodded.
“She said you came back.””
My skin went cold.
“When?””
“She called it the snow night.””
I stood so fast that Milo stirred.
The snow night.
Seven years earlier.
Boston had been buried beneath twenty inches of snow.
I had flown there secretly after receiving an anonymous email containing only three words.
Claire needs you.
I had spent six hours searching our old neighborhood.
I found nothing.
The next morning, someone broke into my hotel room.
My laptop disappeared.
So did my wallet.
And when I returned to New York, my mother convinced me the message had been a scam.
But there had been something else.
Something I had never told Victoria.
A memory.
A woman outside my hotel.
Dark hair beneath a red wool hat.
I had chased her across the street.
A taxi nearly hit me.
When I reached the opposite sidewalk, she was gone.
For years, I had told myself grief had invented her.
“Mom,” I said.
Eleanor knew immediately.
Her shoulders sagged.
“You remember Boston.””
Victoria turned toward her.
“What happened in Boston?””
I stared at my mother.
“You told me Claire was living in Europe.””
“She was supposed to be.””
“Supposed to be?””
Eleanor’s voice cracked.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
“From her.””
Lucy suddenly spoke.
“My mommy isn’t bad.””
Eleanor looked at her.
Lucy stepped closer to me.
“She’s good.””
“I know,” I said quietly.
But did I?
The truth was uglier.
Eleven years earlier, I had loved Claire Bennett more than I had loved anything.
Then she disappeared.
No goodbye.
No explanation beyond a letter.
I collapsed afterward.
Stopped eating.
Stopped sleeping.
Nearly destroyed the company I had just founded.
My mother stepped in.
She handled lawyers.
Private investigators.
Security.
She told me Claire had taken money to disappear.
I refused to believe it.
So Eleanor showed me financial records.
A payment.
Two million dollars.
Transferred into an account under Claire’s name.
That was the day love became humiliation.
I spent the next decade erasing every trace of her.
Photos.
Emails.
Our apartment.
Even the small publishing company where she worked.
When my corporation eventually acquired the building, I had Claire’s old office demolished.
I told myself I was removing weakness.
Now a four-year-old girl stood in my wedding with Claire’s face hidden beneath my features.
And suddenly every piece of evidence looked manufactured.
Marcus returned.
His expression was grim.
“Sir.””
“What?””
“We found the woman who dropped off the children.””
“Where?””
“She’s outside.””
“Bring her in.””
Marcus hesitated.
“She refuses.””
“Why?””
“She says Mrs. Cole knows her.””
I looked at my mother.
Eleanor’s lips parted.
“What’s her name?””
Marcus glanced at her.
“Margaret Shaw.””
My mother staggered backward.
I caught her elbow.
“Who is Margaret Shaw?””
“No one.””
“Stop lying to me.””
“She worked for us.””
“When?””
Eleanor looked at Lucy.
“Eleven years ago.””
My blood went cold.
“What did she do?””
My mother’s silence answered before her mouth did.
“She handled Claire.””
I stared at her.
“Handled?””
Eleanor began crying.
“She was supposed to make Claire understand.””
“Understand what?””
“That she couldn’t be part of your life.””
Victoria whispered, “Eleanor…”
I stepped away from my mother as if she had become something poisonous.
“You paid Claire.””
“No.””
“You showed me the transfer.””
“The money never went to Claire.””
My chest tightened.
“Then where did it go?””
Eleanor covered her mouth.
“Margaret.””
I couldn’t breathe.
The letter.
The returned ring.
The bank records.
The vanished apartment.
Eleven years of hatred.
All of it.
“Bring Margaret inside,” I told Marcus.
He nodded and left.
My mother reached for me.
I backed away.
“Don’t.””
“Nathan, I thought Claire would destroy everything you were building.””
“So you destroyed her first?””
“I wanted to save you.””
“You stole eleven years from me.””
A small voice interrupted us.
“Daddy?””
I froze.
Lucy had never called me that before.
She pointed toward Milo.
“He has Mommy’s letter.””
I looked at the baby.
“What letter?””
“In his blanket.””
I searched the folds carefully.
There was a sealed envelope stitched into the lining.
My name was written across the front.
Nathan.
I knew the handwriting instantly.
Claire.
My hands began shaking.
I tore it open.
Inside was one page.
The first line read:
If Lucy found you, then I failed to keep them safe.
And beneath it:
Nathan, Milo is not your son.
I stared at the sentence.
May you like
Then I read the next one.
He is your brother.
