Chapter 1 - Thirty-Seven Dollars
Ava Sullivan clutched her newborn against her chest and whispered, “Please don’t cry, baby.”
Adrien Moretti stepped through the hospital doors and noticed a divorce folder sticking from her battered suitcase.
A handwritten number showed beneath Daniel Sullivan’s signature.
$2,800,000.
Adrien stopped walking.
This was not only a divorce.
Three days earlier, Ava had believed the hardest thing she would ever survive was childbirth.
She had been wrong.
Twenty-one hours of labor had reduced the world to pain, fluorescent lights, whispered instructions, and Daniel pacing near the window as though he had somewhere more important to be.
Then her daughter cried.
Ava remembered laughing through her tears.
The nurse had placed the tiny, warm bundle against her chest, and everything inside Ava had changed at once.
“She’s perfect,” the nurse had whispered.
Ava had looked toward her husband.
Daniel’s face had gone still.
“No.”
At first Ava thought he had misunderstood something.
“What?”
Daniel stared at the baby.
Not frightened.
Not overwhelmed.
Disappointed.
“She’s healthy,” Ava said. “Seven pounds, four ounces.”
“My father knows.”
Ava blinked. “Knows what?”
“That it’s a girl.”
She waited for him to smile.
To apologize.
To hear how monstrous he sounded.
Instead, Daniel walked to the leather briefcase he had carried into the delivery room.
He opened it.
He removed a cream-colored folder.
Then he placed it beside her hospital bed.
“Preliminary divorce documents.”
Ava had stared at him, certain exhaustion had made her misunderstand.
“You brought divorce papers to the delivery room?”
“My attorney prepared them last week.”
The nurse stopped moving.
Ava felt the baby’s breath against her chest.
“You knew you were going to leave me?”
Daniel adjusted his cuffs.
“I knew there was a possibility this wouldn’t work.”
“This?”
“Our marriage.”
“No.” Ava’s voice shook. “You mean if I didn’t give you a son.”
His silence answered for him.
Daniel Sullivan had been charming when they met.
He had been attentive when he proposed.
He had told her he wanted a traditional family.
He had asked her to leave her teaching job after they married because, according to him, “our children deserve a mother who can be present.”
Ava had believed him.
She had not understood that Daniel’s definition of family had conditions.
His family’s investment company controlled the Park Avenue apartment.
The car was leased through the company.
Most of Ava’s household money flowed through an account Daniel managed.
He had once called those arrangements “simpler.”
Now she understood what they actually were.
Leverage.
“Where am I supposed to go?” she had asked.
For one moment, discomfort crossed Daniel’s face.
Then it disappeared.
“You should have planned better.”
He left less than an hour after his daughter was born.
He did not kiss the baby.
He did not touch her.
He did not say goodbye.
The hospital social worker tried to help, but Ava had been too stunned to explain how completely Daniel had separated her from the life she thought she owned.
Her old savings account contained thirty-seven dollars and fourteen cents.
Her debit card connected to the household account stopped working the next morning.
Her calls to Daniel went unanswered.
On the third day, she was medically cleared for discharge.
A social worker offered to contact an emergency family shelter.
Ava agreed.
Then the shelter called back.
No immediate beds.
Another facility had space, but transportation across Manhattan was delayed by the storm.
“Stay inside until the ride comes,” the nurse told her.
Ava tried.
Then the hospital administration needed the discharge area cleared for incoming patients from a traffic accident.
She told herself she could wait outside for ten minutes.
Twenty at most.
She had one suitcase.
One coat.
One newborn.
Thirty-seven dollars.
She made it twenty yards.
Pain from the delivery tore across her abdomen.
Her knees weakened.
Ava sat on a stone bench beside the hospital entrance and pulled her daughter close.
Snow swept sideways between the buildings.
Her daughter made a tiny sound.
“I’ve got you,” Ava whispered.
She opened her coat wider and wrapped both sides around the baby.
“I promise.”
She had no idea how she would keep that promise.
The revolving doors turned behind her.
Several men emerged.
Ava barely looked up.
Black coats.
Polished shoes.
Quiet movements.
Then one pair of shoes stopped in front of her.
She raised her head.
The man standing over her was tall enough to block part of the hospital lights.
Dark wavy hair.
Short beard.
Broad shoulders beneath a black overcoat.
Two men remained several steps behind him.
Ava recognized him.
Almost everyone in New York would have.
Adrien Moretti.
His photograph had appeared in newspapers beside words like organized crime, investigation, racketeering, construction contracts, and federal inquiry.
Nothing had ever stuck.
People in certain neighborhoods lowered their voices before saying his name.
Daniel once told a story at dinner about an executive who had made the mistake of crossing Moretti in a real-estate deal.
The executive had moved to Florida three weeks later.
Adrien looked at Ava.
Then at the bundle inside her coat.
“You have a baby out here.”
It was not a question.
“My ride is coming.”
Adrien glanced toward the empty curb.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes dropped to her suitcase.
The zipper had separated near one corner.
The cream divorce folder was visible inside.
A gust of wind lifted the top sheet.
Adrien caught it before it blew away.
Ava reached for it.
“That’s mine.”
He was already looking at the signature page.
“I know this name.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Give it back.”
Adrien’s gaze moved across Daniel Sullivan’s signature.
Then it stopped on a number scribbled near the lower corner.
$2,800,000.
His expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“Where did you get this?”
“My husband gave it to me.”
“When?”
“The day our daughter was born.”
Adrien slowly looked at the baby.
“He divorced you in the delivery room?”
Ava hated how humiliating the truth sounded when spoken aloud.
“He wanted a son.”
Something cold entered Adrien’s eyes.
Not the cold of the storm.
Something much older.
Behind him, one of his men shifted his weight.
Adrien handed the paper back.
“You cannot stay here.”
“I told you, transportation is coming.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re blue around the lips.”
Ava tried to stand.
Pain stopped her halfway.
Adrien immediately extended a hand.
She recoiled.
“I can do it.”
He withdrew his hand without argument.
“Then do it.”
She tried again.
Her knees nearly folded.
Adrien caught her elbow.
Ava stiffened.
“Don’t.”
“I’m stopping you from hitting the pavement.”
His grip was careful.
Nothing like what she expected from a man Daniel had once described as dangerous.
“My car is there,” Adrien said.
“I’m not getting into your car.”
One corner of his mouth moved.
“Good.”
Ava frowned.
“Good?”
“You shouldn’t get into a stranger’s car simply because he owns an expensive coat.”
“You’re not exactly a stranger.”
“That makes it worse.”
Despite herself, Ava almost laughed.
The sound caught in her throat.
Adrien looked toward his security man.
“Call St. Catherine’s Residence. Tell Sister Margaret I need the family suite tonight.”
Ava stared.
“I don’t need charity.”
“No?”
“No.”
“All right.”
He removed his gloves.
“Then consider it repayment.”
“For what?”
Adrien nodded toward the divorce folder.
“That number.”
Ava looked down.
“Two million eight hundred thousand?”
“Yes.”
“What does it mean?”
“Your husband knows.”
Ava’s fingers tightened around the folder.
Adrien crouched slightly so they were closer to eye level.
“When Daniel Sullivan handed you those documents, did he expect you to read every page?”
“I just gave birth.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Ava’s heart began beating faster.
“What is happening?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That isn’t reassuring.”
“It isn’t supposed to be.”
The baby stirred.
Adrien’s attention shifted instantly.
Ava expected annoyance.
Instead he lowered his voice.
“How old?”
“Three days.”
“Name?”
Ava looked down.
“Lily.”
Adrien repeated it once.
“Lily.”
The baby’s tiny face remained tucked against Ava’s sweater.
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
His security man returned.
“Residence has a room, boss.”
Adrien stood.
A black SUV waited beside the curb.
A uniformed hospital employee emerged with a wheelchair.
“I didn’t ask for that,” Ava said.
“I did.”
“You’re very comfortable giving orders.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what that number means.”
Adrien studied her.
Then he reached into his coat and removed his phone.
He typed something.
A second later, he turned the screen toward her.
Ava stared at an old corporate filing.
Sullivan Capital Holdings.
Transfer authorization.
Acquisition reserve.
Amount: $2,800,000.
Authorized recipient:
Ava Sullivan.
Her mouth went dry.
“I’ve never seen this.”
“I thought you might say that.”
“What is it?”
“Money.”
“I can see that.”
“Money transferred through an account bearing your name.”
“I don’t have an account with that amount.”
“Apparently someone thinks you do.”
The snow seemed to disappear.
The hospital entrance disappeared.
All Ava could see was her own name.
“Daniel did this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know something.”
“I know Sullivan Capital made a payment eighteen months ago through a shell company my accountants investigated.”
“Why?”
“Because the payment was connected to property my organization purchased.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Your organization?”
“My legitimate organization.”
“That clarification doesn’t help.”
Adrien almost smiled again.
Then his expression became serious.
“If Daniel used your identity without your knowledge, those divorce papers may not simply be about ending a marriage.”
Ava looked at Lily.
She suddenly remembered Daniel insisting she sign tax forms without reading them.
His irritation when she asked questions.
His father telling her at Christmas that family business was “not something wives needed to worry about.”
She remembered Daniel asking for a copy of her passport.
Her Social Security number.
Her old teaching pension information.
Normal things, she had thought.
Marriage things.
“What could they have done?”
Adrien looked toward the SUV.
“Not here.”
“Tell me.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“When your daughter isn’t turning cold in your arms.”
That ended the argument.
Ten minutes later, Ava sat inside the SUV with Lily against her chest.
Heat flowed from the vents.
Her suitcase rested beside her.
Adrien sat across from her.
He did not touch her.
He did not ask for gratitude.
He simply made one phone call.
“Marco.”
Pause.
“Find everything attached to Ava Sullivan’s name.”
Ava looked up.
Adrien’s eyes met hers.
“Everything,” he repeated.
Another pause.
His face hardened.
“Start with Sullivan Capital.”
He ended the call.
Ava swallowed.
“What happens if you find something?”
Adrien looked at Lily.
“That depends on what your husband stole.”
The SUV turned onto Madison Avenue.
Ava’s phone suddenly vibrated.
Daniel.
Her first call from him in three days.
She stared at the screen.
Adrien said nothing.
Ava answered.
“Daniel?”
There was breathing on the other end.
Then her husband spoke.
“Where are the divorce papers?”
Ava’s blood turned cold.
“With me.”
A pause.
“Did you show them to anyone?”
Her eyes moved to Adrien.
“No.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s something inside that folder you were never supposed to see.”
Ava looked down.
The zipper of her suitcase had fallen open.
The folder was no longer where she had left it.
One sheet had slid onto the floor.
Adrien bent to pick it up.
He looked at the bottom of the page.
Then he became completely still.
“What?” Ava whispered.
Adrien turned the sheet toward her.
Beneath Daniel’s signature was another name.
A name Ava knew.
May you like
Her dead father’s.
And beside it was a date written six months after he had been buried.
