Chapter 6 - A Bank Account for an Unborn Baby
Sloane stared at the hospital paperwork until the letters blurred.
Her daughter had not been born.
She didn't even have a name.
Yet someone had created a financial identity using her expected birth date and her parents' information.
Harper stood beside her.
“Can they actually do that?”
“Not legally,” Sloane answered. “These records are fraudulent.”
She had already contacted her attorney.
The documents were being preserved for investigators.
But the thought that someone had used her unborn child as part of a financial scheme made her physically sick.
Her phone rang.
Rafe.
She watched it for several seconds.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
His voice was quieter than she remembered.
“Sloane.”
She closed her eyes.
“I saw the documents,” he said.
“I thought you should.”
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
The answer surprised her.
Rafe continued.
“About me leaving. About the way I treated your time as something I could always ask for later. About making choices without asking you.”
Sloane stared out the window.
“I didn't leave because I stopped loving you.”
“I know.”
“I left because loving you was becoming lonely.”
A long silence followed.
Then Rafe whispered, “I'm sorry.”
She swallowed hard.
“I believe you mean that.”
“But it doesn't fix what happened.”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Sloane, I need to ask you something. Not as your husband trying to control you. As the father of our daughter.”
She waited.
“Will you let me help protect her identity?”
Sloane considered the question.
“Yes. Through our lawyers. And I want to be included in every decision.”
“Of course.”
For the first time in months, he had asked rather than instructed.
They spoke for twenty minutes.
About the records.
The foundation.
The shipment.
And finally, about their daughter.
“She's kicking a lot,” Sloane admitted.
Rafe went silent.
“Is she?”
“Yes.”
“Does she still kick when you play that ridiculous old jazz record?”
Sloane smiled despite herself.
“Every time.”
Rafe laughed softly.
They both remembered dancing in the kitchen during her first trimester.
Back when the pregnancy had felt like a shared miracle.
Before every emergency became more important.
At the end of the call, Rafe asked, “Can I see you?”
Sloane's heart tightened.
“Not yet.”
He didn't argue.
“Okay.”
After hanging up, Sloane returned to the documents.
Something bothered her.
The hospital foundation account had been opened using private medical information.
Only a handful of people could have accessed those details.
She checked the authorization records.
One signature appeared repeatedly.
A senior hospital administrator.
Dr. Nathaniel Price.
Sloane recognized the name.
He had attended her baby shower.
He'd even given her a silver picture frame.
She searched his professional biography.
The medical foundation was established by a private donor.
Grant Kesler.
Sloane felt ice slide through her chest.
Then Harper appeared in the doorway.
“Sloane, there's someone downstairs.”
“Who?”
Harper's face was pale.
“Your doctor.”
Sloane frowned.
“Why would Dr. Price come here?”
Harper swallowed.
“He says your husband sent him to take you for an emergency examination.”
Sloane looked down at her phone.
May you like
Rafe hadn't mentioned an examination.
And Dr. Price wasn't her obstetrician.
