Chapter 3 - What Serena Had Been Hiding
Serena recovered quickly.
That was one of the things she had always been good at.
Give her five seconds and she could turn panic into confidence.
Ten seconds and she could turn confidence into accusation.
"This is insane," she said.
Grant stared at her.
"Answer the question."
"I brought Claire vitamins."
Dr. Shah did not react.
"The capsules sent for testing contained an active compound that wasn't listed on the label."
Serena looked at me.
"Then Claire tampered with them."
I actually laughed.
It came out sharp and exhausted.
"You think I poisoned myself while I was pregnant?"
"I'm saying you've done everything possible to stop this wedding."
Grant turned.
"Serena."
"What? Think about it."
"No."
His voice was different now.
Quiet.
Hard.
She noticed.
So did I.
"You don't get to dismiss this," Grant said.
"I am not dismissing anything."
"Then explain it."
"I can't explain something I didn't do."
Dr. Shah raised a hand.
"This isn't the appropriate place for accusations. Our responsibility is Miles and Claire's medical care. Because of the laboratory findings, the hospital has already documented the matter. Further questions may involve legal authorities."
Serena's face changed again.
"Legal authorities?"
"The hospital has reporting obligations when there is reason to believe a patient's exposure may not have been accidental."
Grant slowly turned toward me.
"Did you know?"
"No."
That answer was easy.
"I thought the doctors were reviewing why the delivery happened. I didn't know they found this."
"When did she give you the capsules?"
"About five weeks before Miles was born."
Grant looked back at Serena.
She lifted her chin.
"I was trying to make peace."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"Peace?"
"Yes."
"You were sleeping with my husband."
"Ex-husband."
"He was still married to me when your affair started."
Grant closed his eyes.
"Enough."
I looked at him.
"No. You don't get to say enough now."
My voice shook.
"You accused me of carrying another man's child. You ignored a paternity test. You blocked my attorney. You tried to take the company we built together. And while I was dealing with all of that, the woman you chose over me was bringing things into my home."
Grant looked as if I had struck him.
Good.
Maybe he needed to feel one percent of what I had felt.
Serena grabbed his sleeve.
"We're leaving."
Grant didn't move.
"Our rehearsal dinner—"
"I said I'm not leaving."
Serena stared.
"You can't be serious."
"My son is in there."
The words landed heavily.
My son.
Again.
Serena's expression hardened.
"And tomorrow?"
Grant looked toward Miles.
"I don't know."
That was when Serena's composure finally cracked.
"You're going to destroy our wedding because Claire produced one suspicious bottle?"
I stepped forward.
"That suspicious bottle may be why my son spent his first month connected to machines."
"May be."
Dr. Shah spoke carefully.
"We cannot make definitive legal conclusions about intent. But medically, Claire experienced several abnormalities consistent with the compound identified in the capsules."
Grant stared at her.
"Could it have caused the premature delivery?"
"It could have contributed substantially."
My stomach twisted.
Contributed.
A clinical word.
A small word for nights spent watching my child struggle to breathe.
Serena shook her head.
"I didn't do this."
"Then where did you buy them?" Grant asked.
She hesitated.
"I don't remember."
"You recommended them."
"Someone recommended them to me."
"Who?"
"I don't remember."
Grant laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"You were giving supplements to my pregnant wife and you don't remember where they came from?"
"Ex-wife."
He looked at her.
"She wasn't my ex-wife then."
That shut her up.
Dr. Shah asked whether Grant wanted to see Miles more closely.
He did.
I almost said no.
Then I looked at my son.
Whatever Grant had done to me, Miles would someday have questions about his father.
I didn't want my anger answering those questions for him.
So I allowed the nurse to take us inside.
Grant washed his hands carefully.
He followed every instruction.
When he reached Miles's bedside, the businessman disappeared.
For years, Grant had walked into conference rooms as though they belonged to him.
He intimidated investors twice his age.
He could silence twenty executives simply by leaning forward.
Now he stood helpless beside a baby who weighed less than a bag of flour.
"Can I touch him?"
The nurse nodded.
"Place your hand gently on his back."
Grant did.
Miles shifted.
Grant inhaled sharply.
"He's warm."
I almost cried.
Of all the things he could have said, somehow that was what broke through my defenses.
"Of course he's warm."
"I know."
He swallowed.
"I just…"
He couldn't finish.
Serena remained outside the room.
Through the glass, I saw her checking her phone.
Not watching Miles.
Not watching Grant.
Her phone.
Something about it bothered me.
Maybe because she had always done that when nervous.
At company meetings, when an investor challenged a number Serena had presented, she immediately reached for her phone.
When I confronted her about the affair, she had done the same thing.
Scrolling.
Typing.
Controlling something.
I turned toward Grant.
"Who handles messages from your attorneys?"
"What?"
"Your lawyers contacted you about Miles."
"I told you I never saw anything."
"Who receives notices?"
"My office."
"Who specifically?"
He looked through the glass.
At Serena.
I didn't have to say it.
Grant's face changed.
"She managed communications during the divorce."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course she did."
Grant pulled out his phone.
He started searching.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking archived emails."
"Now?"
"Claire, I need to know."
"Know what?"
"How much I didn't see."
He scrolled faster.
Then stopped.
His expression emptied.
"What?"
Grant showed me the screen.
An email from his attorney.
Subject line:
URGENT: PRENATAL PATERNITY RESULTS CONFIRMED
The message had been marked as read.
Four months earlier.
Grant whispered, "I never opened this."
I stared at him.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No."
He looked toward Serena again.
"But I know who had access to this account."
We searched another folder.
There were hospital messages.
Three.
All marked read.
One forwarded internally.
The forwarded recipient was Serena.
I felt sick.
Grant stepped out of the NICU.
"Serena."
She looked up.
"What?"
He held out his phone.
"Why were Miles's hospital messages forwarded to you?"
Her face froze.
Then she shrugged.
"I was managing your communications."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I thought it was manipulation."
"You don't get to decide whether my child being born is manipulation."
"Grant—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her voice sharpened.
"Because tomorrow is our wedding!"
The hallway went silent.
A nurse at the station looked over.
Serena lowered her voice.
"We were finally getting everything Claire had been trying to take away from us."
I stared at her.
"Take away from you?"
"The company."
Grant looked between us.
"What does the company have to do with this?"
Serena immediately realized she had said too much.
"Nothing."
But Grant knew her.
So did I.
And we both recognized the moment she lied.
"What about the company?" he repeated.
Serena crossed her arms.
"Claire was demanding shares she wasn't entitled to."
"They were my shares," I said.
She looked at me.
"You signed them away."
"No, I didn't."
Grant frowned.
I turned toward him.
"Tell her."
"Tell her what?"
"That you know I challenged the transfer."
Grant looked confused.
"What transfer?"
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I understood.
The divorce agreement had been presented to me as a settlement.
A document claiming I had voluntarily surrendered my twenty-eight percent ownership in Holloway Development in exchange for a lump-sum payment.
But I never signed that document.
My attorney had been fighting it for months.
Grant had always insisted the signature was mine.
Now he looked genuinely confused.
"You told me she signed," he said to Serena.
Serena stepped back.
"I told you what legal told me."
"Our attorney said Claire signed?"
"Yes."
"Which attorney?"
She hesitated.
Grant's jaw tightened.
"Which attorney, Serena?"
"I don't remember."
I watched him recognize the pattern.
The vitamins.
The messages.
The paternity report.
The company shares.
Every answer led back to Serena.
And every explanation ended with the same sentence.
I don't remember.
Grant took one step toward her.
"Tomorrow's wedding is postponed."
Serena stared at him.
"No."
"Yes."
"Three hundred people are coming."
"I don't care."
"My parents flew in."
"I said I don't care."
Her eyes filled with furious tears.
"This is exactly what she wanted."
I shook my head.
"No."
Both of them looked at me.
"I wanted my husband to believe me when I told him his baby was his."
Grant's expression crumpled.
"I wanted him to answer when the hospital called."
My throat tightened.
"I wanted my son to have a father before he had an incubator."
No one said anything.
Then Miles's monitor sounded softly.
I turned instantly.
Everything else disappeared.
Grant followed.
Serena didn't.
When I reached Miles, his numbers had already stabilized.
The nurse smiled.
"He's okay. Just being dramatic."
I touched his tiny foot.
Behind me, Grant whispered, "Claire."
I didn't turn.
"I am going to fix this."
I looked over my shoulder.
"You can't fix twenty-six days."
"I know."
"You can't fix the pregnancy."
"I know."
"You can't fix what you said to me."
His eyes lowered.
"I know."
"Then stop promising to fix things."
Grant swallowed.
"What do I do?"
"Start by finding the truth."
He nodded.
May you like
And for the first time since our marriage ended, Grant Holloway did exactly what I asked.
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