Another.
**You will find that continuing this relationship will become expensive.**
Another.
**You should consider whether being difficult is worth the consequences.**
I stared at the screen.
“Thomas sent these?”
“Rebecca said they came from his executive assistant.”
“That could mean anything.”
“I know.”
“Did she report it?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
James gave me a look.
Because Rebecca had spent most of her adult life running.
Running from conflict.
Running from family.
Running from a husband who made her feel small.
Running from embarrassment.
Running from anyone who tried to tell her she deserved better.
And now she was dead.
I looked at Lily again.
“What happens legally?”
“We need a lawyer.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
James understood.
He stood and crossed his arms.
“If we petition for guardianship, the court will look at Rebecca’s wishes. But if Adrian proves paternity and wants custody…”
“He could get her.”
“He could.”
I felt something primitive rise in me.
Protective.
Possessive.
Terrifying.
I had held this child for less than ten minutes and already hated an imaginary courtroom for trying to take her from me.
“This is insane,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“We have three children.”
“Yes.”
“We have a mortgage.”
“Yes.”
“I work part-time because childcare already costs too much.”
“I know.”
“We don’t even have a bedroom for her.”
“I can convert the office.”
I glared at him.
“That is not the point.”
“I know.”
“And you lied to me for three months.”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
I expected him to defend himself.
He didn’t.
That somehow made me angrier.
“Why, James?”
His answer was barely audible.
“Because I knew what this would do to you.”
“What?”
“Hope.”
I went still.
He looked directly at me now.
“For years, I watched you pretend you were fine every time someone had a daughter. Every baby shower. Every pink blanket. Every time one of the boys asked why they didn’t have a sister.”
My eyes burned.
“I was fine.”
“No, you survived it.”
“That’s cruel.”
“I know.”
He crouched again.
“When Rebecca told me about Lily, I wanted to tell you immediately. I almost did. But then she said she might survive treatment. She said if she made it, she wanted to keep Lily.”
“Of course she did.”
“And if I told you, you would have spent three months imagining this child in our home.”
I had no answer.
“Then if Rebecca lived, you would have been happy for her and devastated for yourself. And you would’ve hated yourself for being devastated.”
Tears spilled down my face.
He knew me too well.
“I thought I was protecting you,” he said.
“You weren’t.”
“I know.”
“But you thought you were.”
“Yes.”
I looked down.
Lily had wrapped one tiny hand around my finger.
That did it.
I started crying again.
Not delicately.
Not quietly.
The kind where your shoulders shake and you become embarrassed by the sound of yourself.
James knelt beside me and put one hand on the back of my neck.
For a moment we were not angry spouses.
We were two people mourning someone who had died and terrified of loving someone who had just arrived.
“I can’t lose her,” I whispered.
James froze.
I realized what I had said.
Not I don’t want to.
I can’t.
He looked at Lily.
Then at me.
“Are you saying yes?”
I stared at that tiny face.
“Yes.”
The word came from somewhere deeper than logic.
“Yes.”
James’s face crumpled.
He kissed my forehead.
Then Lily’s.
And for about thirty seconds, the world became simple.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
James looked at the screen.
“Answer.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody knows you’re here.”
That made me uneasy.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice spoke.
“Is this Claire Bennett?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“My name is Daniel Ross. I’m an attorney representing Vale Medical Group.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
James heard enough from my expression to know.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I’m calling regarding an infant currently in your physical custody.”
I stood so fast James reached for Lily.
I passed her to him.
“How did you get my number?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss investigative methods.”
“Investigative methods?”
“Mrs. Bennett, I strongly advise that you do not leave the hospital with the child.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why?”
“Because my client has reason to believe the child may be a member of the Vale family.”
James’s face lost color.
“How does your client know she exists?”
“I can’t discuss that.”
“Then we have nothing to discuss.”
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
James whispered, “That’s impossible.”
“What?”
“Rebecca told nobody.”
“Apparently she told someone.”
“No. She didn’t.”
“Then how did Thomas Vale know before Rebecca’s body is even cold?”
James looked toward the hallway.
I followed his gaze.
A man in a dark suit had appeared near the nurses’ station.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
Perfect posture.
He was speaking to Dr. Morgan.
Then he looked directly at us.
Even through the glass, I recognized him.
Thomas Vale.
I had seen his face on billboards and charity reports.
He crossed the hall toward the room.
James moved instinctively between him and Lily.
Thomas stopped at the doorway.
He looked first at James.
Then at me.
Then at the baby.
Something strange happened to his expression.
For one second, the powerful polished executive disappeared.
He looked old.
Almost frightened.
“Mr. Bennett,” he said.
James’s voice hardened.
“You need to leave.”
Thomas ignored him.
His eyes stayed on Lily.
“How old is she?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“How old?”
“Why?”
Thomas finally looked at me.
“Because my son has been missing for nine months.”
The room went silent.
I felt the floor tilt.
“Missing?”
“Yes.”
James stepped forward.
“What are you talking about?”
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
“Adrian disappeared last November. No bank activity. No calls. No vehicle recovered.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” James said. “Rebecca was hiding from him.”
Thomas’s eyes sharpened.
“My son was hiding from me.”
Nobody spoke.
He reached inside his coat.
James tensed.
Thomas removed a photograph.
He held it out.
I did not want to take it.
But I did.
The picture showed Rebecca and Adrian standing outside what looked like a lakeside cabin.
Rebecca was visibly pregnant.
Adrian’s hand rested on her stomach.
The photograph had a date printed in the corner.
Seven months ago.
My breathing stopped.
“That’s impossible.”
James snatched the photo.
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