Chapter 4 - The Wedding That Never Happened
By sunrise, the wedding had technically been postponed.
By nine o'clock, everyone in Grant's life knew something was wrong.
By noon, half of Manhattan seemed to know.
Grant's mother called me first.
I almost didn't answer.
Eleanor Holloway and I had once been close.
That ended when Grant told his family I had betrayed him.
She believed her son.
Most mothers would.
"Claire?"
Her voice trembled.
"I heard about Miles."
I closed my eyes.
"From Grant?"
"He called me at four this morning."
That surprised me.
"What did he say?"
"He said he has a son."
Silence.
"And that he may have made the worst mistake of his life."
I looked toward Miles's crib.
"He made several."
"I know."
No excuses.
That surprised me more.
Eleanor arrived at the hospital two hours later.
She cried the moment she saw Miles.
Quietly.
Hands pressed over her mouth.
"Oh, sweetheart."
I thought she meant me.
Then she looked through the glass.
"My grandson."
Grant arrived soon after.
He had changed clothes.
He had also changed somehow.
Maybe sleeplessness did that.
Maybe guilt.
He carried a cardboard box.
"What is that?" I asked.
"Everything from Serena's office."
I stared at him.
"You went through her office?"
"I own the building."
"That wasn't my question."
He lowered the box.
"I couldn't sleep."
I gave him a tired look.
"Welcome to parenthood."
For the first time in months, the corner of his mouth almost moved.
Then he became serious again.
"I found something."
Inside the box were printouts.
Emails.
Company memos.
Copies of legal correspondence.
Serena had been intercepting information for months.
Not only mine.
Grant showed me internal messages where she instructed staff not to forward calls from my attorney.
Another told the receptionist that any hospital message regarding me was to be routed through her.
Then came the financial records.
A consultant I didn't recognize had been paid almost sixty thousand dollars.
The payments were labeled "reputation management."
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"I don't know yet."
Grant pulled out another page.
The consultant had communicated with the outside firm handling our divorce paperwork.
One message referred to "finalizing Claire's exit."
My pulse accelerated.
"I never agreed to exit the company."
"I know that now."
"Now?"
Grant looked ashamed.
"I believed what I was shown."
I stared at him.
"Because you wanted to."
He nodded.
That stopped me.
Grant had always defended himself.
Always explained.
Always reframed.
Now he simply nodded.
"Yes."
The admission hurt more than an argument.
Before we could continue, Dr. Shah entered.
She had another physician with her and a hospital administrator.
I knew immediately this wasn't a routine update.
"Is Miles okay?"
"He's doing very well," she said quickly. "This is about you."
We moved into a private consultation room.
Dr. Shah explained that the capsule sample had been independently retested.
Same result.
A compound known to affect vascular function had been present at a significant concentration.
The hospital could not determine how it got there.
That was a legal question.
But medically?
The timeline mattered.
"So you're saying this caused Miles to be born early?" Grant asked.
Dr. Shah chose her words carefully.
"Medicine rarely gives us perfect certainty in cases like this. But Claire developed abnormal symptoms after beginning those supplements. Those symptoms worsened. She then experienced acute placental dysfunction."
She paused.
"The exposure could reasonably have contributed to the emergency."
My hands went cold.
Grant stared at the floor.
I remembered headaches.
Dizziness.
Swollen hands.
Serena telling me pregnancy was uncomfortable.
I remembered calling my obstetrician and being told to monitor my blood pressure.
I remembered feeling guilty for complaining.
Grant asked, "Could Miles have died?"
Dr. Shah didn't soften it.
"Yes."
Grant turned pale.
"So could Claire."
Serena's face appeared in my memory.
Smiling at my apartment door.
Holding the little paper bag.
You may hate me, but I don't hate the baby.
I stood abruptly.
"I need air."
Grant followed me into the hallway.
"Claire."
"Don't."
"I need to say something."
"No, you need to listen."
He stopped.
I faced him.
"You made me doubt myself."
His expression tightened.
"Every time something felt wrong, you told me I was emotional."
"I know."
"When Serena inserted herself into our marriage, you said I was jealous."
"I know."
"When I told you the baby was yours, you accused me of lying."
His eyes filled.
"I know."
"When my lawyer sent DNA proof, you chose not to look."
"I didn't see—"
"You chose the system that made sure you wouldn't see."
That landed.
Grant looked away.
"You gave her access to everything."
"Yes."
"You gave her credibility."
"Yes."
"You made me the enemy."
He rubbed his face.
"I was wrong."
I laughed bitterly.
"That sentence is too small."
"I know."
"Stop saying you know."
He looked at me.
"I don't know what else to say."
"Then don't say anything."
For once, he didn't.
That afternoon, law enforcement arrived.
Not sirens.
Not dramatic arrests.
Two investigators in plain clothes.
They asked questions.
When did Serena deliver the supplements?
Was anyone else present?
Did I keep the packaging?
Thankfully, yes.
After Miles was born, my sister had packed everything from my apartment.
The bottle was in a toiletry bag at her house.
The investigators collected it.
Grant gave them Serena's business information.
Then they asked whether Serena knew about the pregnancy.
I laughed softly.
"Everyone knew."
"Did she know about the paternity?"
Grant answered.
"She received the email."
The investigator looked at him.
"You didn't?"
"Apparently not."
"Did Ms. Vale have access to your account?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Grant looked at me.
"Because I trusted the wrong person."
That evening, Serena finally called.
Grant put the phone on speaker.
Her voice came through the room.
"Grant, please meet me."
"No."
"We need to talk privately."
"We can talk now."
She hesitated.
"Is Claire there?"
"Yes."
"Of course she is."
I nearly responded.
Grant touched my wrist.
Not possessively.
Just asking.
I stayed silent.
Serena said, "This entire thing is getting out of control."
"A premature baby isn't a thing."
"I mean the investigation."
"Then cooperate."
"I haven't done anything."
"Where did the supplements come from?"
"I told you. I don't remember."
Grant's voice hardened.
"Three hundred people were supposed to watch me marry you today."
Silence.
"I think I deserve a better answer."
Serena began crying.
It sounded real.
Maybe it was.
"After everything I did for you?"
Grant closed his eyes.
"That's what I'm trying to understand."
"I stood beside you when Claire tried to destroy you."
I felt anger surge.
Grant replied before I could.
"No."
Serena stopped.
"She didn't destroy me."
His voice became quieter.
"I destroyed my marriage all by myself."
I looked at him.
He didn't look back.
Serena's crying stopped.
"You'll regret choosing her."
"This isn't about choosing Claire."
Grant looked through the glass at Miles.
"This is about choosing my son."
Then Serena made the mistake that changed the entire investigation.
"You didn't even want that baby."
Grant's eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"You told me."
"No."
"Grant, you said the pregnancy would complicate everything."
He went completely still.
I remembered the night Grant left our house.
Our argument.
His suitcase.
His words:
I can't do this anymore.
But he had never said he wanted Miles gone.
Grant asked slowly, "Why does what I wanted matter?"
Serena didn't answer.
"Serena?"
"I was upset."
"What did you mean?"
The line disconnected.
Grant stared at the phone.
Ten minutes later, one of the investigators called.
"Don't contact her again."
"Why?"
"We're heading to her apartment."
Something in my stomach twisted.
"What happened?"
The investigator hesitated.
Then said, "Ms. Vale just booked a one-way international flight."
Grant looked at me.
The woman he had planned to marry that morning was trying to leave the country.
May you like
And suddenly, everything stopped looking accidental.
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