Chapter 5 - THE BABY HE PROMISED HER
“He told her what?”
Claire stared at the photograph until the letters blurred.
Claire's baby could still be ours.
Rose was sleeping in the neonatal intensive care unit, barely three days old.
Her lungs were still developing.
She had never seen the world beyond hospital walls.
And her father had apparently promised her to another woman.
Owen stood across from Claire's hospital bed.
“We don't know exactly what Grant meant.”
Claire looked up.
“I do.”
“Claire—”
“He promised Paige my daughter.”
Her voice was steady.
That frightened Owen more than tears would have.
“He planned to get rid of me, take custody of Rose, and make Paige believe she was getting the family she lost.”
Owen didn't contradict her.
Claire closed her eyes.
She remembered Grant painting the nursery.
His hands covered in yellow paint.
The little white crib.
The way he had pressed his ear against her stomach.
Had any of it been real?
Or had he already been imagining someone else standing beside that crib?
Rebecca Sloan returned the following morning.
Claire demanded to know what Paige had told investigators.
Rebecca remained careful.
“I can't disclose every detail. But Miss Mercer acknowledged that Grant repeatedly discussed raising a child together after her miscarriage.”
Claire clenched her jaw.
“Did he tell her Rose would be that child?”
“She says he described a future in which you were no longer involved.”
“What does that mean?”
“He allegedly told her you were emotionally fragile and might not survive childbirth.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“My blood pressure.”
Rebecca nodded.
“He used information about your medical condition to make the possibility seem believable.”
Claire felt sick.
“He spent weeks preparing her.”
“That's one interpretation we're examining.”
“And the fire?”
“Paige maintains that she expected a small, quickly extinguished flame that would make you appear endangered but not seriously injured.”
Claire stared.
“Who thinks setting someone's dress on fire is harmless?”
“Someone who has been misled about the substance, the setting, and the available safety measures. It doesn't excuse her conduct.”
Claire remembered Paige throwing the lighter.
The speed of the fire.
The pain.
“No,” she said quietly. “It doesn't.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Claire, Paige now believes Grant intended you to die.”
“Because he abandoned her?”
“Partly.”
“What else?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because he sent her an instruction shortly before the attack.”
Claire's heart pounded.
“The message on her phone.”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
Rebecca opened a folder.
The message contained only six words.
Do it now. She's wearing it.
Claire read the sentence.
Then looked up.
“He knew exactly what was on my dress.”
Rebecca nodded.
“We consider that significant.”
That afternoon, Claire asked to see Richard alone.
He arrived carrying a small velvet box.
She recognized it before he opened it.
Her mother's necklace.
The blue enamel rose.
The tiny gold key.
Richard placed it in her bandaged palm.
“I should have given this to you years ago.”
Claire studied the delicate chain.
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I couldn't bear to sort through her things.”
Claire looked up.
“That's what you told yourself.”
Richard sat down.
“Yes.”
She waited.
“I was ashamed,” he admitted. “Elizabeth was right about Margaret. And I let my pride matter more than the truth.”
Claire traced the rose.
“Did Mom know about the trust?”
“She created it.”
“Did she know someone might try to take it?”
Richard hesitated.
“Your mother was worried about people using children to gain control of money.”
Claire frowned.
“Why?”
Richard rubbed his hands together.
“Shortly before she died, she discovered that several company executives were creating accounts in the names of employees' children.”
“Margaret's daughter?”
“Possibly.”
Claire's stomach tightened.
“Did you investigate?”
“Not thoroughly enough.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“You keep saying that about things that ruined people's lives.”
Richard accepted the words without defending himself.
“I know.”
Claire closed the velvet box.
“I need you to do something.”
“Anything.”
“Find Margaret Mercer.”
Richard went still.
“Claire—”
“I want to know what happened to her.”
He nodded.
“I'll find her.”
“And Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“If she is alive, don't approach her with a checkbook.”
Richard's eyes filled.
“I understand.”
Two days later, Rose was strong enough to have her breathing support reduced.
Claire stood beside the incubator, one hand resting against the glass.
The nurse smiled.
“She's a fighter.”
Claire smiled back.
“She comes from stubborn women.”
Then the hospital's patient advocate approached.
“Mrs. Hale, I need to discuss a privacy concern.”
Claire turned.
“What concern?”
“Someone attempted to obtain your daughter's discharge planning information.”
“Grant?”
“The request came through an outside pediatric care agency.”
Claire's heart sank.
The advocate continued.
“The agency listed a planned residence for Rose after discharge.”
Claire took the paper.
The address was not her home.
It was a townhouse on the Upper East Side.
A house Grant had secretly purchased six months earlier.
Claire knew because her father had found the property records during his investigation.
Paige lived there.
Claire looked up.
“He's already prepared her nursery.”
The advocate's face tightened.
“We've blocked unauthorized access. We're coordinating with the hospital security team.”
Claire pressed the paper against her chest.
For the first time since the fire, her fear changed shape.
She wasn't just afraid of losing Rose.
She was afraid someone would walk into the NICU and take her.
Owen responded immediately.
Additional security was placed outside the neonatal unit.
Hospital staff received updated access instructions.
Richard arranged for independent legal counsel for Claire.
And Grant's attorneys were formally notified that any attempt to remove Rose without authorization would be contested.
But Grant made his next move publicly.
At a press conference, his lawyer announced that Claire was suffering from “significant emotional instability following a traumatic incident.”
The lawyer claimed Grant had been unfairly denied access to his newborn daughter.
He also announced that Grant intended to challenge Richard Bennett's suitability as a guardian.
A reporter asked why.
The answer made headlines within minutes.
“Mr. Bennett's historical treatment of vulnerable employees raises serious questions about his judgment.”
Claire watched the footage in silence.
Grant was using Margaret's story.
He was taking Richard's worst mistake and turning it into a weapon against Claire.
And the worst part was that Richard had actually done something wrong.
That evening, Owen arrived with news.
“We found Margaret Mercer.”
Claire sat upright.
“Where?”
“A care facility in Connecticut.”
“Is she sick?”
“She's recovering from a stroke. She's able to communicate, but her speech is limited.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Another family damaged.
Another woman who had spent years paying for Richard's mistake.
“Does Paige visit her?”
“Yes.”
“Can we speak with Margaret?”
“We're arranging it through her legal representative.”
Owen looked uncomfortable.
“There's something you should know first.”
Claire waited.
“Margaret sent a package to your father's office seven months ago.”
“Before Grant's affair?”
“Approximately the same week it began.”
“What was inside?”
“Copies of financial records. A letter requesting a meeting. And an old photograph.”
Claire frowned.
“Did Dad receive it?”
“No.”
“Where did it go?”
Owen placed a delivery receipt on the bed.
A signature appeared at the bottom.
Grant Hale.
Claire felt the familiar chill.
He had intercepted Margaret's warning.
He had known who Paige was.
He had known what Richard had done.
And somehow, he had turned a desperate woman's daughter against the family that had once sheltered her.
But Owen wasn't finished.
“The records Margaret sent weren't only about what happened twenty-seven years ago.”
Claire looked up.
“What else?”
“They show money moving out of your daughter's trust during the past year.”
Claire froze.
“That's impossible.”
Owen's expression was grim.
“The funds were transferred through a company controlled by Grant.”
Claire whispered, “How much?”
“Twenty-four million dollars.”
Then Owen placed a bank statement on the bed.
One final detail had been circled in red.
The transfers carried two authorizations.
One belonged to Grant.
May you like
The other belonged to someone Claire had trusted her entire life.
Richard Bennett.
