Chapter 4 - The Baby
Sloane told me she was pregnant during lunch at a crowded Manhattan restaurant.
She placed the ultrasound photograph beside my plate.
For one foolish second, I assumed she was finally becoming a mother with someone else.
Then I saw the guilt in her eyes.
“How far along are you?” I asked.
“Fourteen weeks.”
I calculated the date immediately.
Daniel and I had celebrated our anniversary in Napa fifteen weeks earlier.
He had spent half that trip texting someone from the hotel balcony.
Now I knew who.
“Does the father know?”
Sloane looked down.
“Yes.”
“Is he married?”
Her face tightened.
“Technically.”
I picked up the ultrasound photograph.
The tiny shape in the center looked innocent and fragile.
The child had done nothing wrong.
That truth made what I planned more complicated.
It did not make it impossible.
Sloane reached across the table.
“I never wanted it to happen this way.”
“Then how did you want it to happen?”
“I hoped you and Daniel would separate quietly.”
“So you could move into my house?”
“It isn’t about the house.”
“My company?”
“No.”
“My husband?”
She pulled her hand away.
“You’ve never appreciated him.”
There it was.
The justification every betrayer eventually invents.
I had worked eighty-hour weeks to save Hartwell during a national recession.
I had paid Daniel’s mother’s debts.
I had given Sloane a job at my charitable foundation after she lost her previous position.
Now they had rewritten my sacrifices as neglect.
Sloane lowered her voice.
“Daniel needs someone who believes in him.”
“I made him CEO.”
“You always reminded him that the company belonged to your family.”
“It does.”
Her eyes became cold.
“Maybe that’s the problem.”
I pushed the ultrasound photograph back toward her.
“Does Daniel plan to leave me?”
“He’s afraid you’ll retaliate.”
“He should be.”
Sloane laughed nervously.
“You would never hurt us.”
“You’re right.”
I stood and picked up my purse.
“I won’t have to.”
That evening, Naomi called me.
The investigators had found evidence that Sloane had helped forge the medical paperwork.
She had also transferred foundation donations into Northstar’s accounts.
Money intended for children’s hospitals had paid for luxury vacations, designer clothing, and the apartment where she met my husband.
Naomi asked the question again.
“Are you ready to end this?”
I looked at the calendar.
Our fifteenth-anniversary gala was seven weeks away.
“No.”
May you like
I stared at the gold invitation Daniel had approved.
“Let them make their announcement first.”
