Chapter 7 - THE CHILD WE DIDN'T LOSE
I drove to Nathan Cole's house at midnight.
I didn't call first.
When he opened the door, he took one look at the ultrasound photographs and closed his eyes.
“You knew.”
He stepped aside.
“Nathan.”
“Yes.”
“Was Grace carrying twins?”
“Yes.”
I nearly hit him.
Instead I gripped the wall.
“You told me she miscarried.”
“She did.”
“One baby?”
His silence answered.
My knees almost gave out.
“One survived.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“Where is my child?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Grace made me promise.”
“I am the father.”
“And she was terrified.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of me?”
“Not exactly.”
That hurt more.
Nathan explained.
Grace had experienced severe bleeding.
One fetus was lost.
The second survived.
But the surviving pregnancy was fragile.
Grace begged the hospital to keep the information private.
She believed whoever had caused the first loss might try again.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
Nathan looked at me with something close to disgust.
“Because the night she nearly lost both children, you were in Dubai with Vanessa.”
I looked away.
“She asked me whether I thought you would protect the baby.”
“And?”
“I said yes.”
He paused.
“She asked whether I thought you'd protect the baby from Vanessa.”
I couldn't answer.
Nathan continued.
“She didn't know what you'd choose.”
That sentence destroyed me.
My wife had been pregnant with my surviving child and couldn't trust me to choose them over my mistress.
“When is she due?”
“Six months.”
I calculated.
Our child was alive.
Somewhere.
Grace was carrying our baby.
“What was the secret in the recording?”
Nathan's face changed.
“Not the twin.”
“What?”
“She expected you might eventually learn that.”
“Then what secret?”
“I can't tell you.”
I stepped closer.
“Nathan.”
“She made me swear.”
“My wife is being hunted.”
“That is exactly why I can't tell you.”
There was something else.
Something bigger.
I forced myself to step back.
“Fine.”
For once, I didn't use money.
Didn't threaten.
Didn't command.
I left.
At sunrise, I instructed Marcus to stop every active search for Grace.
He stared at me.
“Stop?”
“Yes.”
“What if Vanessa finds her?”
“Continue looking for Vanessa. Do not track Grace.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked me not to.”
Marcus studied me.
Then nodded.
It was the hardest order I had ever given.
For sixteen years, I had believed power meant making things happen.
Now loving Grace required doing nothing.
Three days later, the FBI found Vanessa.
Alive.
She'd been hiding in a church basement.
She agreed to cooperate in exchange for protection.
I met her once.
Behind glass.
She looked ten years older.
“Who gave you the medication?”
She stared at me.
“You won't believe me.”
“Try.”
“It wasn't Jonathan.”
“Who?”
She swallowed.
“Grace's financial adviser.”
I frowned.
“Grace doesn't have one.”
“Yes, she does.”
Vanessa slid a photograph across the table.
A man in his late fifties.
I recognized him immediately.
Arthur Bennett.
My chief financial officer.
My closest professional adviser for twenty-two years.
The man who had been best man at my wedding.
Vanessa whispered:
“He said Grace and the baby would destroy everything we'd built.”
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And suddenly I understood why Grace hadn't trusted anyone inside my company.
The man hunting her had keys to my entire empire.
