Chapter 5 - THE SIX MONTHS HE COULDN'T REMEMBER
Mara had lived with Adrian for two years without knowing he'd once lost six months of his life.
The discovery frightened her more than the gun at the airfield.
Because she'd always believed Adrian kept secrets deliberately.
Now she wondered how many had been kept from him.
“What happened?” she asked.
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“I was eighteen. My father sent me to a house in Vermont after a car accident.”
“Were you badly hurt?”
“Head injury. Broken ribs. I spent weeks in recovery.”
“And you don't remember?”
“Most of that winter is gone.”
Grant spoke carefully.
“Your father controlled the medical records. Walter handled the insurance paperwork.”
Adrian's expression darkened.
“I never questioned it.”
Mara touched his arm.
“Why not?”
“Because after Rose supposedly died, I stopped questioning anything my father told me.”
The answer sounded like a confession.
Not of guilt.
Of grief.
Helen sat down, looking shaken.
“My sister Rebecca worked at that house.”
Adrian lifted his head.
“What?”
“She was a caregiver. Your father hired her to help you recover.”
Grant studied the photograph again.
“And Rose was there too.”
Adrian looked toward the window.
For several seconds, he seemed far away.
“I remember a blue blanket,” he said quietly.
Mara waited.
“And someone singing.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Sometimes I remember a baby crying. I always thought it was something I dreamed while medicated.”
Mara's hand moved instinctively to her stomach.
Adrian noticed.
He looked at her with a strange expression.
“That's why the message mentioned my first child.”
Mara shook her head.
“You were eighteen. That doesn't mean—”
“It means someone wanted me to believe I had a child.”
Helen looked at him.
“Or someone wanted you to forget.”
Grant's tablet chimed with an internal notification.
He read it, then frowned.
“Walter Bell's old trust account was accessed yesterday.”
Adrian straightened.
“By whom?”
“Someone using your father's estate credentials.”
“Those credentials were deactivated.”
“They were supposed to be.”
Mara felt the room closing around her.
“Can we leave?”
Adrian turned immediately.
“Yes.”
“No,” she said. “I don't mean the airport. I mean all of this.”
He looked at her.
“I want to go somewhere ordinary. A hospital. A place where nobody needs permission to call the police.”
Adrian's expression tightened.
“You're safer with my people.”
Mara looked toward Owen.
“That's what Eli thought before someone pointed a gun at him.”
Adrian flinched.
Owen lowered his head.
Grant stepped forward.
“She's right about one thing. We don't know which parts of our security system are compromised.”
Adrian considered this.
Then he made a decision.
“No estate vehicles. No Vale properties. We take Mara to an independent hospital.”
Mara stared.
“You're agreeing?”
“I'm listening.”
She wanted to trust those words.
But trust wasn't something a person rebuilt in an afternoon.
An hour later, Mara sat in the back of an ordinary rented SUV.
Adrian drove himself.
No escort.
No flashing lights.
No guards crowding the sidewalks.
Grant followed separately with Helen and Eli.
At a hospital in White Plains, Mara was examined by a physician who knew nothing about the Vale family.
The baby was healthy.
The heat had caused dehydration, but no serious complications.
For nearly half an hour, Adrian sat beside her while the doctor explained prenatal warning signs.
He listened to every word.
He asked about appointments, nutrition, and emergency symptoms.
Mara watched him carefully.
This was the same man who could make an entire room fall silent by raising one finger.
Now he was asking whether his wife needed more water.
When the doctor stepped out, Adrian remained beside the bed.
“May I ask something?”
Mara almost smiled.
“You usually don't.”
He accepted the criticism.
“Have you heard our baby's heartbeat before?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have a recording?”
Mara hesitated.
Then she opened her phone.
She played a short audio clip.
A rapid, steady rhythm filled the room.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Something moved across his face.
Wonder.
Grief.
Regret.
He pressed his lips together.
“That's our baby?”
“Yes.”
His eyes glistened.
“I missed five months.”
Mara turned away.
“You were there.”
He looked confused.
“You lived in the same house,” she said. “You passed me at breakfast. You asked about the garden and the kitchen bills. You just never asked about me.”
Adrian didn't defend himself.
After a long silence, he said, “I thought giving you a beautiful house meant I was taking care of you.”
“It gave me somewhere to sleep.”
He nodded.
“And I thought leaving you alone meant I wasn't bringing my life into yours.”
“You married me, Adrian. Your life was already in mine.”
He looked down.
“I know.”
Outside the room, Grant approached carrying a small paper bag.
“I found something at the estate.”
Adrian stood.
“What?”
“Your father's old watch collection.”
He opened the bag.
Inside was a wooden jewelry box.
One compartment was empty.
Grant pointed to the velvet indentation.
“Walter's silver pocket watch belonged here.”
Adrian frowned.
“Why bring this?”
“Because I found a second compartment beneath the tray.”
He lifted out a faded photograph.
It showed eighteen-year-old Adrian sitting beside a young woman on a porch.
Her dark hair was tied with a blue ribbon.
She was holding a newborn wrapped in a pale yellow blanket.
Adrian stared.
Mara looked at the baby.
Then at the young woman.
“Who is she?”
Adrian whispered, “I don't remember.”
Grant turned over the photograph.
Three names were written in careful handwriting.
Adrian. Caroline. Grace.
Mara felt the blood drain from her face.
“Grace?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Do you know that name?”
Mara nodded slowly.
“My mother's name was Caroline.”
The hospital room became very quiet.
Adrian stared at the photograph.
Then at his wife.
“Mara, what was your mother's maiden name?”
She swallowed.
“Shaw.”
Helen, standing in the doorway, suddenly gripped the wall.
Because Caroline Shaw had been Rebecca's younger sister.
And the newborn in the photograph wore a tiny silver bracelet engraved with stars.
Mara looked at Adrian, horrified.
May you like
“Tell me that baby isn't me.”
Adrian couldn't answer.
