Chapter 4 - The Fake Heir
For several seconds, I thought I had heard her wrong.
"Say that again."
"I'm not pregnant."
The words came faster now.
"I never was."
I closed my eyes.
Julian's voice returned to me.
She's carrying the real heir.
Beatrice applauding.
Arthur joining her.
An entire room participating in a humiliation built around a lie.
"Why?"
Chloe started crying.
"I was supposed to tell Julian I miscarried later."
"Why?"
"Because Beatrice paid me."
There it was.
Not love.
Not even ordinary infidelity.
A transaction.
"How long?"
"Seven months."
My stomach turned.
"You were sleeping with my husband for seven months because his mother paid you?"
"It didn't start like that."
"I don't care how it started."
"Please."
"No."
"Clara, she knows about your father's company."
That stopped me.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"Then call the FBI."
"I can't."
"You can."
"She'll destroy me."
I looked around the hospital room.
I had bruises across my abdomen.
My husband was in police custody.
Federal agents were tearing through my in-laws' lives.
I had run out of sympathy for people who thought Beatrice Vance's anger was more frightening than the truth.
"Chloe, she already owns you because you're protecting her."
Silence.
Then she whispered, "She wanted you unstable."
"What?"
"The baby shower was supposed to end differently."
A chill crawled along my arms.
"How?"
"You were supposed to see me."
"Obviously."
"You were supposed to discover the pregnancy."
"The fake pregnancy."
"Yes."
"And then?"
"Julian had divorce papers ready."
I stared at the ceiling.
Chloe continued.
"Beatrice believed you'd panic."
"She doesn't know me."
"No."
A humorless laugh escaped her.
"She really doesn't."
"What were the papers?"
"I never saw everything."
"Try."
"There was a postnuptial agreement."
My mind sharpened.
"Why would I sign a postnup while being served divorce papers?"
"Because Julian was supposed to offer to stay."
I understood.
Humiliate me.
Terrify me.
Make me believe my marriage was ending weeks before giving birth.
Then offer salvation.
For a price.
"What did they want?"
Chloe whispered, "Your signature."
"On what?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I heard Beatrice call it the guardian waiver."
The baby's monitor continued its steady rhythm beside me.
Guardian.
The word struck harder than I expected.
My child.
"What guardian waiver?"
"I don't know."
"Find out."
"I can't go back there."
"Then give Reed everything you have."
Chloe went silent again.
Finally she said, "There's a safe-deposit key."
"Where?"
"Beatrice gave it to me in case something happened."
"Why would she trust you?"
"She didn't."
"Then why give you anything?"
"Because the box isn't hers."
My pulse quickened.
"Whose is it?"
"Mine."
That surprised me.
"She made me open it under my name."
"For what?"
"I never looked."
"Chloe."
"I swear."
"Where is the key?"
Another pause.
Then came a sound on her end.
A door opening.
Chloe gasped.
Someone spoke in the background.
Male.
"Who are you talking to?"
The call ended.
I immediately called Agent Reed.
No answer.
I called again.
Voicemail.
Then my hospital room door opened.
A nurse stepped in.
"Mrs. Vance?"
Her face looked wrong.
"What?"
"Your husband has been released pending arraignment."
My chest tightened.
"How?"
"His attorney posted bond."
I reached for my phone.
Then another contraction hit.
This one was stronger.
The monitor changed.
The nurse turned toward the screen.
Her expression sharpened.
"Clara, I need you to lie back."
"What is happening?"
She pressed a button.
Two more nurses entered.
The baby's heartbeat slowed.
I watched the number fall.
"Why is it dropping?"
Nobody answered immediately.
"Why is it dropping?"
Dr. Patel rushed through the door.
She looked at the monitor once.
Then at me.
"We're going to the operating room."
My fear became absolute.
"Now?"
"Now."
As they unlocked the bed and started moving me, my phone rang again.
Agent Reed.
I answered with shaking fingers.
"We found Chloe," she said.
I barely heard her over the alarms.
"Is she okay?"
"Yes."
"Did she have the key?"
Reed's answer followed me toward the operating room.
"Yes."
"And Clara?"
"What?"
"The bank box contains a copy of your father's original patent assignment."
I gripped the rail.
May you like
Reed lowered her voice.
"His signature was forged."
