Chapter 8 - SLOANE’S CONFESSION
Sloane came to my house alone.
Two years after the library.
No cream dress.
No diamonds.
No triplets.
She left the boys with a nanny and parked at the curb for ten minutes before walking to my door.
I almost did not open it.
Then I did.
“Why are you here?”
She held out a folder.
“To stop lying.”
I stared.
“Start.”
She cried almost immediately.
“I knew the embryos were yours.”
“Yes.”
That still hurt hearing aloud.
“My father told me they were legally donated.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“When did you stop?”
“When Gordon asked me to sign a secrecy agreement before transfer.”
There it was.
Choice.
“How much did he pay you?”
Her face crumpled.
“Nothing directly.”
“Indirectly?”
“He promised the boys would be Ashford heirs.”
“That was enough?”
She looked ashamed.
“I loved Preston.”
“No. You wanted his life.”
She did not argue.
Fair.
Then Sloane said:
“I thought he would choose me.”
“He did.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He chose not to fight for you. That isn’t the same thing.”
That sentence surprised me.
“What happened after the divorce?”
“Preston stayed.”
“With you?”
“In the guest room.”
I stared.
“He didn’t move in with you?”
“No.”
“But the wedding?”
“Was always postponed.”
Two years.
Why?
“He said he needed time.”
“So why is it scheduled now?”
Sloane’s expression changed.
“Gordon gave him an ultimatum.”
Of course.
Marriage before year-end or lose control of a development fund.
Preston had agreed.
Had he?
I had not asked him.
That mattered.
Sloane continued:
“Then the DNA petition came.”
“And?”
“I knew everything would collapse.”
“Why not tell the truth?”
“I was afraid you’d take the boys.”
Her voice broke.
“They call me Mommy.”
There it was.
The one part I understood.
“I’m not taking children like furniture.”
She stared.
“You mean that?”
“Yes.”
“Even after what I did?”
“This is not about you.”
It was about them.
Children should not be ripped away to satisfy adult ownership.
But legal parentage needed resolution.
Therapists.
Gradual contact.
Courts.
Truth appropriate to age.
No dramatic kidnapping in designer clothes.
Then Sloane handed me the folder.
Inside were emails.
Gordon to Howard Mercer.
Howard to Sloane.
Transfer instructions.
Payments.
One email from Lenora.
My stomach tightened.
She knew too.
LENORA:
Once Camille is gone, we can finally give Preston the family he needs.
I stopped reading.
“Lenora knew?”
Sloane nodded.
“Not everything.”
“How much?”
“She knew the embryos came from your cycle.”
That hurt almost as much as Gordon.
Lenora had hugged me after failed IVF.
Brought soup.
Told me motherhood was not the measure of a woman.
Then helped transfer my embryos to someone else.
I wanted to throw the folder.
Instead I kept reading.
Then one email appeared from Preston.
To Sloane.
Three months after the divorce.
PRESTON:
My father says not to discuss the clinic with me again.
SLOANE:
Why?
PRESTON:
Because I’m beginning to think Camille was right to leave all of us.
I stared.
Sloane said:
“He changed after you left.”
“That doesn’t undo anything.”
“I know.”
Then:
“He never proposed to me.”
I frowned.
“The wedding?”
“Gordon announced it.”
“Preston agreed?”
“He hasn’t canceled it.”
Again.
Passivity.
The same sin.
I looked at Sloane.
“Why are you still going through with it?”
She laughed sadly.
“Because I spent two years trying to prove stealing your place was worth it.”
That was painfully honest.
Then she said:
“There’s something else.”
Of course.
“Gordon asked me to sign a new guardianship document last week.”
“For the boys?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“In case something happens to Preston.”
“Who becomes trustee?”
“Gordon.”
My blood went cold.
He was still building control around children.
Then Sloane whispered:
“I didn’t sign.”
Good.
Finally.
“And that’s when Gordon told me something.”
“What?”
“He said the boys were never the only heirs he was planning around.”
I looked at Jane playing across the room.
Sloane followed my eyes.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Not her.”
“Then who?”
Sloane looked toward my triplets.
“Your son.”
Alexander.
May you like
Gordon knew about my pregnancy.
He had known before the divorce became final.
