Chapter 4
My father moved toward the door.
I grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t leave me.”
He stopped immediately.
The anger disappeared from his face.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Outside, Daniel and Claire were still shouting.
A security guard ordered both of them to lower their voices.
My doctor entered.
“What’s happening?”
“Family problem,” my father said.
The doctor looked at my monitor.
“It needs to become a quiet family problem.”
I knew what she meant.
My blood pressure had climbed again.
She looked directly at me.
“Emily, your baby is handling the contractions well right now. But stress matters. I need you focused on yourself.”
I nodded.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
She adjusted something on the monitor.
“We’re giving you medication to help the baby’s lungs in case delivery happens early.”
My hand moved protectively over my stomach.
“Is she going to be okay?”
My father looked at me.
“She?”
I realized I had never told him.
“A girl.”
His face changed.
For the first time that night, he smiled.
“A granddaughter.”
I started crying.
He kissed my forehead.
Then a nurse opened the door slightly.
“Mr. Callahan?”
My father stepped closer.
“What?”
“The woman outside says she has information your daughter should hear.”
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“I don’t want Daniel in here.”
“He won’t be.”
I thought about the plane tickets.
My name on one of them.
“Let Claire come in.”
My father looked at me.
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
That was the truth.
“But I need to know.”
Two security officers escorted Claire inside.
She looked completely different from the polished woman who had arrived at my house.
Her coat was open.
Her mascara had smudged.
She was shaking.
The moment she saw me, she stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“For sleeping with my husband or helping him steal my money?”
She flinched.
“Both.”
My father remained standing.
“Start with the tickets.”
Claire looked toward him.
“I found them in Daniel’s email this morning.”
“How did you access his email?”
“He gave me his password.”
My father almost smiled.
Of course he had.
Claire continued.
“We were supposed to leave tonight.”
“You and Daniel?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“For Switzerland?”
“Zurich.”
“And my ticket?”
“I didn’t know it existed until today.”
My fingers curled around the hospital blanket.
“What date?”
“Tomorrow night.”
I stared at her.
“You were leaving tonight.”
“Yes.”
“And I was supposedly leaving tomorrow.”
“That’s what it looked like.”
My father spoke.
“Did Daniel explain why?”
Claire shook her head.
“When I confronted him, he said it was part of a contingency plan.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
I watched her carefully.
“You expected me to sign the transfer.”
Her eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Daniel told me you wanted a divorce and planned to give him a settlement before going back to your family.”
I laughed.
It came out bitter.
“And eighty-four million dollars sounded like a reasonable divorce settlement?”
Her face reddened.
“He didn’t tell me the amount.”
“But your company was receiving it.”
“I didn’t understand what Hawthorne was being used for.”
My father interrupted.
“You created it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Daniel said we needed an investment vehicle for a real estate business.”
My father folded his arms.
“And you believed him?”
Claire’s silence answered.
I looked at her.
“How long?”
She swallowed.
“Emily.”
“How long have you been sleeping with my husband?”
“Eleven months.”
The room went silent.
I closed my eyes.
Eleven months.
I had been pregnant for eight.
Three months before our baby was conceived.
“Did he know you before I got pregnant?”
“Yes.”
My chest hurt.
“Did he want this baby?”
Claire’s expression made me afraid of the answer.
“Tell me.”
“He said another child would complicate things.”
“Another?”
Claire’s eyes widened.
My father stepped forward.
“What did you say?”
She shook her head.
“I meant a child.”
“No,” I whispered. “You said another child.”
Claire looked toward the floor.
“Claire.”
She started crying.
“Daniel has a son.”
Everything inside me stopped.
I heard the fetal monitor.
My father breathing.
The distant noise in the hallway.
But I couldn’t understand her words.
“What?”
“Daniel has a son.”
“How old?”
“Six.”
I stared at her.
Daniel and I had been married five years.
“Who is the mother?”
Claire hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t know her personally.”
“What’s her name?”
“Rachel Bennett.”
The name meant nothing.
My father pulled out his phone.
Marcus answered immediately.
“Find Rachel Bennett connected to Daniel Mercer. Child approximately six years old.”
Claire watched him.
“You have people who do that?”
My father looked at her.
“Yes.”
She looked even more frightened.
I barely noticed.
I was doing the math.
Six years old.
Daniel’s son had been born before our wedding.
“Did Daniel know?”
Claire nodded.
“He sends money every month.”
I pressed my palm against my mouth.
“He told me he had never wanted children before me.”
Claire wiped her face.
“He lies.”
I stared at her.
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“I know.”
She took the insult without defending herself.
That made me angrier somehow.
I wanted her to fight.
I wanted someone to blame who wasn’t the man I had built my entire life around.
But Claire looked less like a mastermind now and more like another person Daniel had manipulated.
Not innocent.
But used.
“What else?” my father asked.
Claire hesitated.
“There’s a safe-deposit box.”
“Where?”
“Commonwealth Bank downtown.”
Daniel’s bank.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know. But he visits it every Friday.”
My father typed another message.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at me.
“He was angry when you got pregnant.”
My heart broke in a new place.
“He acted happy.”
“He told me it ruined the timing.”
“What timing?”
“The trust.”
My father’s face hardened.
Claire continued.
“He said once the baby was born, everything would become more complicated legally.”
My father nodded slowly.
“He’s right.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Your daughter becomes a contingent beneficiary.”
“So he needed me to transfer everything before she was born.”
“Yes.”
Claire covered her mouth.
“I didn’t know.”
My father ignored her.
I stared down at my stomach.
My daughter moved.
A tiny kick beneath my palm.
Daniel hadn’t simply betrayed me.
He had seen his own unborn child as an obstacle.
Tears ran down my face.
“I want a divorce.”
My father looked at me.
“I can arrange an attorney.”
“No.”
He seemed surprised.
“I want you.”
“Emily, I’m your father.”
“You’re also the best attorney I know.”
“Which creates emotional complications.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
“Dad.”
He sat beside me.
“I will protect you. I will coordinate everything. But I want an independent family-law specialist representing you so nobody can later claim I controlled your decisions.”
I understood immediately.
Even now, he was thinking ten moves ahead.
“Fine.”
Claire shifted toward the door.
“Can I go?”
My father looked at her.
“No.”
She froze.
“I’m not holding you here.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I mean if you walk out without speaking to law enforcement, Daniel may convince you to change your story by morning.”
“I won’t.”
“He convinced you to help create a shell company.”
Claire went silent.
My father continued.
“You need your own attorney.”
“I can’t afford someone like you.”
“You don’t need someone like me.”
He handed her a business card.
“You need someone who understands criminal exposure.”
Claire’s face went pale.
“Criminal?”
“You participated in a planned transfer of assets worth tens of millions of dollars.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Then start proving it.”
She stared at the card.
I looked away.
I felt exhausted.
Then my phone vibrated on the bedside table.
Daniel.
My father reached for it.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
I picked it up.
There were twelve missed calls.
Seven messages.
The newest read:
You’re making this worse than it needs to be. We can still fix this privately.
I laughed softly.
“What?”
I showed my father.
He read it.
Then another message appeared.
Your father doesn’t know everything.
A second later:
Ask him why your mother really died.
My breathing stopped.
My father saw the message.
His face changed.
Not anger.
Something else.
Fear.
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Emily—”
“What does he mean?”
He didn’t answer quickly enough.
My whole body went cold.
My mother had died when I was twelve.
Car accident.
That was what I had always been told.
“Dad.”
He sat down slowly.
Claire looked between us.
“I should leave.”
“No,” I whispered.
I couldn’t take my eyes off my father.
“What doesn’t he think I know?”
My father rubbed his hands together.
It was something he did only when nervous.
I hadn’t seen him do it since my mother’s funeral.
“Your mother’s death was an accident.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I know.”
“Then answer me.”
He looked older suddenly.
Much older.
“Your mother had been planning to leave me.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She was unhappy.”
“You told me you were happy.”
“We loved each other.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
I felt betrayed all over again.
“Why was she leaving?”
My father looked toward the window.
“Because she discovered something about the family trust.”
I looked at the blue folder.
“What?”
“She believed someone was stealing from it.”
“Who?”
“We never proved it.”
“Dad.”
His eyes came back to mine.
“The financial advisor she suspected was Peter Lang.”
The same man Daniel was meeting.
A chill ran through me.
“But you fired Peter seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Mom died twenty-two years ago.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“Then why did you keep him working for you for another fifteen years?”
My father’s silence answered before his words did.
“Because I didn’t believe her.”
The pain in his face was real.
“I thought she was wrong.”
I whispered, “And then?”
“Years later, I found evidence that she wasn’t.”
My phone vibrated again.
Another message from Daniel.
Peter knows what happened to your mother.
I showed my father.
He stood so fast his chair fell backward.
“Marcus.”
He called immediately.
Marcus answered.
“Sir?”
“Find Peter Lang now.”
A pause.
Then Marcus said, “We already tried.”
My father went still.
“What do you mean?”
“His apartment is empty.”
“When?”
“Looks like he cleared out recently.”
“How recently?”
“Tonight.”
My father closed his eyes.
Then Marcus continued.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“We checked airport records through our security contact.”
My father’s grip tightened around the phone.
“Peter Lang has a ticket out of Logan.”
“What flight?”
“Zurich.”
I looked at Claire.
She looked at me.
Three tickets.
Daniel.
Claire.
Me.
But now Peter was flying to the same city too.
My father spoke quietly.
“When?”
Marcus answered.
“His flight leaves in two hours.”
My father looked at me.
May you like
And for the first time in my life, I saw Richard Callahan genuinely afraid.
“Stop him.”
