Chapter 2
For three seconds, neither Daniel nor I moved.
The kitchen seemed to shrink around us.
My father’s words kept echoing through my head.
Your inheritance.
Daniel’s face had gone pale.
Not confused.
Not offended.
Afraid.
That frightened me more than anything.
“What inheritance?” I whispered.
Daniel recovered first.
He reached for my phone again.
I pulled it against my chest.
“Emily,” he said quietly. “Your father is trying to manipulate you.”
My father heard him.
“Put me on speaker.”
I already had.
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
My father’s voice became colder.
“Daniel, step away from my daughter.”
Daniel laughed.
But it sounded forced.
“You don’t get to give orders in my house.”
There was a pause.
Then my father said something that changed the room.
“It isn’t your house.”
Daniel froze.
I stared at him.
“What does he mean?”
Daniel looked toward the front door.
His suitcase was still there.
He suddenly seemed desperate to reach it.
“Emily, you’re in pain. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“What does he mean?”
Another contraction tore through me.
I cried out and curled forward.
For one second, Daniel looked as if instinct might finally make him help me.
Then he glanced at his phone.
That was enough.
I understood.
Whoever was waiting for him mattered more than I did.
More than our baby did.
My father spoke sharply.
“Emily, an ambulance is already coming.”
I blinked.
“How?”
“I had my security director trace the address from the number you called me from.”
Daniel stared at the phone.
“You can’t do that.”
My father ignored him.
“Stay on the floor. Don’t try to stand.”
I pressed my palm against my stomach.
The pain eased slightly.
Then I felt something warm.
I looked down.
My dress was wet.
My heart stopped.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“I think my water broke.”
Daniel whispered a curse.
Not because he was worried.
Because my emergency had become inconvenient.
The realization was almost unbearable.
I looked at the man I had married five years earlier.
I remembered our wedding.
His hand trembling when he put the ring on my finger.
The promises.
The laughter.
The tiny apartment we had first shared.
The nights when he said he didn’t care about my family’s money.
“I only want you,” he had told me.
Now there were fifteen thousand dollars on the table.
Taxi money.
A suitcase by the door.
And another woman asking whether I was gone yet.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Daniel heard them too.
He grabbed his suitcase.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I have to go.”
I stared at him.
“Your child might be coming.”
“You’re not due for five weeks.”
“My water just broke!”
“An ambulance is coming.”
His answer was so calm that something inside me finally snapped.
“You planned this.”
He stopped.
I pointed toward the money.
“You planned to leave me today.”
Daniel’s eyes shifted.
“Emily—”
“Who is she?”
He said nothing.
“Who is she?”
The sirens became louder.
Daniel looked at the door.
I laughed through my tears.
“You can’t even say her name.”
He dragged a hand through his hair.
“This marriage has been dead for a long time.”
“No. You killed it while I was too busy carrying your baby to notice.”
His expression hardened.
“You think everything is about you.”
I couldn’t believe it.
“I am on the floor in labor.”
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make yourself the victim.”
I stared at him.
Then my father’s voice cut in.
“Keep talking, Daniel.”
Daniel looked at the phone.
“What?”
“Please. Keep talking.”
Something in my father’s tone made Daniel stop.
My father continued.
“My attorney is recording this call.”
Daniel’s face changed completely.
“You can’t record me without consent.”
“Massachusetts is a two-party consent state,” my father replied. “Which is why I’m telling you now. You’re being recorded.”
Daniel lunged for the phone.
I screamed.
The front door burst open.
Two paramedics entered, followed by a police officer.
Daniel stopped instantly.
One paramedic rushed to me.
“Ma’am, I need you to stay still.”
The other moved between Daniel and me.
The officer looked around the room.
“What happened?”
Daniel spoke first.
“My wife went into labor. She’s emotional.”
I looked at the officer.
“My husband tried to take my phone after leaving fifteen thousand dollars on the table and telling me to call a taxi.”
The officer looked at Daniel.
Daniel smiled tightly.
“Marriage argument.”
The paramedic beside me frowned.
“Her blood pressure is high.”
He touched my wrist.
“Ma’am, how far along are you?”
“Thirty-five weeks.”
“We need to move.”
They lifted me onto a stretcher.
Daniel took a step toward me.
“I’ll meet you at the hospital.”
“No.”
The word came out before I even thought about it.
Everyone looked at me.
I repeated it.
“No.”
Daniel’s expression darkened.
“Emily, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I don’t want you near me.”
“I’m the father.”
“You were leaving.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that—”
“You told me to call a taxi.”
The police officer stared at him.
Daniel looked embarrassed for the first time.
Not ashamed.
Embarrassed that someone had heard.
The paramedics rolled me toward the door.
As we passed the kitchen table, I saw the envelope again.
Fifteen thousand dollars.
Beside it was a folder I hadn’t noticed before.
A thick blue folder.
My name was written on a tab.
I reached toward it.
“That.”
The paramedic stopped.
“What?”
“Give me that folder.”
Daniel moved quickly.
“That’s mine.”
The officer stepped between us.
“She says her name is on it.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“It’s private financial information.”
“My financial information?” I asked.
No answer.
The officer picked it up and placed it on my stretcher.
Daniel’s voice rose.
“You can’t take that.”
The officer looked at him.
“Sir, I suggest you calm down.”
Daniel did.
Barely.
As they wheeled me outside, I saw a black SUV pull into the driveway.
Then another.
Then another.
Daniel went completely still.
The first rear door opened.
My father stepped out.
Richard Callahan.
Sixty-two years old.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
The man newspapers called one of the most ruthless corporate attorneys in New England.
But when he saw me on that stretcher, there was nothing ruthless in his face.
Only fear.
“My little girl.”
I hadn’t heard him call me that since I was twenty.
He hurried toward me.
I started crying before he even reached me.
“Dad.”
He took my hand.
“I’m here.”
Three years of anger disappeared in two words.
I squeezed his fingers.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“We deal with that later.”
Daniel came outside.
“Richard.”
My father turned.
The warmth vanished from his face.
“Do not speak to me.”
Daniel stopped.
My father looked at the blue folder resting against my legs.
Then at Daniel.
“So that’s what you were trying to get her to sign.”
Daniel said nothing.
My stomach twisted.
“What is it?”
My father looked at me.
“We’ll discuss it at the hospital.”
“No.”
I tightened my grip on the folder.
“I need to know.”
His expression softened.
“Emily, the stress—”
“The stress is already here.”
He hesitated.
Then he opened the folder.
The first document had my name across the top.
TRANSFER OF BENEFICIAL INTEREST.
Below it was a signature line.
My signature line.
I stared at the pages.
“What am I transferring?”
My father looked at Daniel.
Then back at me.
“Your controlling interest in the Callahan Family Trust.”
I stopped breathing.
I knew the trust existed.
My grandfather had created it decades ago.
But I had always assumed my father controlled everything.
“How much?”
My father’s voice was quiet.
“Currently?”
He paused.
“About eighty-four million dollars.”
The world tilted.
Daniel spoke quickly.
“Emily, listen to me. It’s not what it looks like.”
I looked at him.
For the first time since the pain began, I felt completely calm.
“You were leaving me today.”
He swallowed.
“Yes.”
“And you were trying to get me to sign away eighty-four million dollars first?”
“No.”
My father flipped to another page.
A notary section.
A transfer company.
A receiving entity.
And then one name.
Hawthorne Strategic Holdings.
My father tapped the page.
“Ask him who owns Hawthorne.”
I looked at Daniel.
He said nothing.
“Who owns it?”
A woman’s voice answered from behind us.
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
A silver Mercedes had stopped across the street.
A woman in a camel-colored coat was standing beside it.
Blonde.
Elegant.
Maybe thirty.
She looked terrified.
Daniel whispered her name.
“Claire.”
My husband’s mistress had arrived at my house while I was being loaded into an ambulance.
And she had just admitted that the company meant to receive my inheritance belonged to her.
Claire stared at the papers.
Then at Daniel.
“You told me she already signed.”
My father slowly smiled.
Not with humor.
With recognition.
Like a lawyer who had just watched the other side destroy its own case.
Daniel’s face turned white.
Claire looked between us.
“What?”
My father pulled out his phone.
“Nothing.”
May you like
He glanced at Daniel.
“Please keep talking.”
