Chapter 4 - The Diagnosis That Destroyed a Marriage
The door opened three inches.
Roman caught it with one hand.
Grant stood outside in his wedding tuxedo.
Two security guards stood behind him.
Neither belonged to the hospital.
"Move," Grant said.
"No."
"This concerns my wife."
"Ex-wife."
Grant's eyes moved past Roman.
They found me.
Then Sophie.
Everything in his face disappeared.
Arrogance.
Anger.
Control.
For several seconds, Grant Kingsley simply stared at my daughter.
"She's newborn."
I said nothing.
"Elena."
"Leave."
His gaze dropped to the pink blanket.
"When?"
"None of your business."
"Today?"
Roman stepped forward.
"She asked you to leave."
Grant ignored him.
He looked at me.
"Was she premature?"
"No."
That one word was enough.
I saw the calculation happen.
Nine months.
Divorce six months ago.
Separation shortly before.
Grant's face changed.
"She's mine."
I tightened my hold on Sophie.
"You don't get to walk into this room and claim anything."
"Is she?"
"Get out."
"Answer me."
Roman moved between us.
Grant laughed without humor.
"There he is. Roman Vale. Always standing exactly where he shouldn't be."
"Grant."
My voice stopped them.
"Tell me what you meant about my father."
Grant looked at Roman.
Roman looked at Grant.
Neither spoke.
"Tell me."
Grant reached inside his jacket.
Roman's hand moved instantly.
"Easy," Grant said.
He removed a folded document.
He tossed it onto the bed.
It was an old newspaper clipping.
Eleven years earlier.
ACCOUNTANT KILLED IN LATE-NIGHT VEHICLE ACCIDENT.
My father's photograph stared back at me.
I knew the article.
I had read it hundreds of times.
But Grant had circled one sentence.
Police reported that another vehicle may have been present.
"What is this?"
"Ask him."
I looked at Roman.
"Was your car there?"
Roman didn't answer.
"Roman."
"Yes."
My stomach dropped.
Grant smiled.
"I'll leave you two to catch up."
"Wait."
He stopped.
"Why do you have this?"
"Because your father worked for mine."
I stared at him.
"No."
"Ask Roman."
"My father was an accountant."
"For Kingsley Holdings."
"He never told me."
"He wasn't supposed to."
Grant looked at Sophie again.
His expression softened for one dangerous second.
Then hardened.
"I want a paternity test."
"No."
"If she's mine—"
"She isn't property."
"I didn't say she was."
"You don't have to."
His jaw tightened.
"I have rights."
"You had a wife."
That hit.
"You humiliated her instead."
Grant stepped closer.
Roman blocked him.
"Do not come near the bed."
Grant's eyes narrowed.
"You're remarkably invested in another man's child."
Roman said quietly, "I'm invested in keeping both of them safe."
"From me?"
"From whoever falsified Elena's medical records."
Grant went still.
I watched him.
There.
Fear.
Not surprise.
Fear.
"You knew," I whispered.
Grant looked at me.
"You knew my results were normal."
"Elena—"
"You knew."
"The situation was complicated."
"Was your diagnosis real?"
He said nothing.
"Grant."
His silence confirmed it.
My chest hurt.
Not because I loved him.
That part had died.
Because I had once trusted him with every fragile part of myself.
"Why?"
"My father needed an explanation."
"So you gave him me."
Grant's face tightened.
"You don't understand Charles."
"No. I understand you."
Claire appeared behind the security guards.
Still wearing her wedding dress.
"Grant?"
Everyone turned.
Her face was pale.
"What are you doing here?"
Grant stepped toward her.
"Claire, go downstairs."
Her gaze passed him.
She saw me.
Then Sophie.
Her bouquet slipped slightly in her hands.
"That's the baby?"
The room went silent.
Grant slowly turned.
"What did you say?"
Claire realized her mistake.
"Nothing."
"You knew?"
"No."
"Claire."
She backed away.
Grant caught her wrist.
Roman moved.
"Take your hand off her."
Grant released Claire immediately.
Claire looked at me.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
Her eyes filled.
"I didn't know they would do this."
"Do what?"
Grant stared at his bride.
"Claire."
She ignored him.
"Dr. Harlan wasn't supposed to change your records."
My ears rang.
"What?"
"Claire, stop."
She looked at Grant.
"You told me she knew."
"Knew what?"
I demanded.
Claire covered her mouth.
Grant's expression became murderous.
Roman closed the door behind them.
Nobody was leaving now.
"Knew what?" I repeated.
Claire looked at me.
"That the diagnosis wasn't yours."
I felt strangely calm.
Perhaps there are betrayals so large the body refuses to react.
"Why would Grant need me to believe it was?"
Claire began crying.
"Because Charles gave him an ultimatum."
Grant stepped forward.
"Enough."
Roman blocked him again.
"What ultimatum?"
Claire whispered, "Produce a biological Kingsley heir or lose control of the company."
I looked at Grant.
Then at Sophie.
Suddenly everything made sense.
And nothing did.
"If Grant couldn't father children..."
Claire looked down.
My gaze dropped to her abdomen.
Eight weeks pregnant.
Grant followed my eyes.
His face changed.
"Claire."
She backed toward the door.
"Don't."
"Whose baby are you carrying?"
Claire started shaking.
"Grant, please."
"Whose?"
She closed her eyes.
Then someone outside slammed both hands against the door.
A man's voice shouted through it.
"Claire, don't tell him!"
Grant turned white.
Because he recognized the voice.
May you like
So did Roman.
It belonged to Grant's younger brother.
