Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WAITING FOR MY HUSBAND
Vanessa Crane was not simply Grant’s mistress.
That would have been painful.
But simple.
Nothing about her was simple.
At 1:15 a.m., after Margaret ended the call, Vanessa took the champagne bottle from Grant’s hand and asked:
“How much control did we lose?”
Grant paced across her apartment.
“Thirty-one percent.”
“You said the trust was passive.”
“It was.”
“That is not what passive means.”
“Don’t start.”
Vanessa folded her arms.
“You promised the merger would close tomorrow.”
“It still can.”
“Without Amelia’s votes?”
Grant stopped.
The merger.
I knew nothing about it.
Not then.
At that exact moment, I was sedated beneath white hospital lights while machines recorded every fragile heartbeat.
But Grant had been preparing to merge Holloway Meridian with Crane Capital.
Vanessa’s family company.
A transaction valued at nearly four billion dollars.
The deal would make Grant chairman of the combined group.
Vanessa’s father, Richard Crane, would control the second-largest voting block.
And once the merger closed, the Carter Trust shares would be diluted enough that my influence would become almost meaningless.
That had been the plan.
Divorce me.
Finalize the merger.
Marry Vanessa later.
Start again.
Cleanly.
Except Grant had signed the divorce papers too early.
Vanessa walked toward the window.
“What about the medical incapacity provision?”
Grant turned.
“How do you know about that?”
She froze.
Too late.
Grant stared at her.
“You knew?”
Vanessa recovered quickly.
“I reviewed the trust summary.”
“When?”
“During due diligence.”
“My lawyers said nobody outside Carter counsel had the full trust.”
“I had access to a memo.”
“From who?”
She did not answer.
Grant’s suspicion began that night.
Mine began hours later.
At 5:32 a.m., one of my monitors changed rhythm.
A nurse entered.
Then another.
My blood pressure improved.
At 6:08, I moved my hand.
At 6:21, I opened my eyes.
Not dramatically.
Not like movies.
Everything was blurred.
My throat felt raw.
My abdomen felt as though someone had split me open.
Because they had.
I tried to speak.
No sound came out.
A nurse leaned over me.
“Mrs. Holloway? Amelia?”
I blinked.
“You’re in the ICU.”
I tried to move.
Pain stopped me.
“My babies,” I whispered.
The nurse smiled.
“All three are alive.”
I cried.
Immediately.
Silently.
Three babies.
Alive.
That was enough for several seconds.
Then I looked toward the doorway.
“Grant?”
The nurse’s expression changed.
Small.
But I saw it.
“Where’s my husband?”
She hesitated.
“He left.”
“When?”
“A few hours ago.”
“Why?”
She clearly did not want to answer.
Then another woman appeared at the door.
Margaret Sloan.
My father’s attorney.
She looked furious.
That frightened me more than the machines.
“Amelia.”
“Margaret?”
She came to my bedside.
“Do you remember signing any divorce papers?”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She exhaled slowly.
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Good.”
My pulse increased.
“Margaret…”
“Grant filed for divorce while you were unconscious.”
For several seconds, I thought medication had distorted her words.
Then I saw her face.
It was real.
My husband had left me while I was dying.
I asked the only question I could form.
“Why?”
Margaret squeezed my hand.
“I don’t know yet.”
Then her phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She turned the screen away from me.
Too late.
I had already seen the headline.
HOLLOWAY MERIDIAN ANNOUNCES EMERGENCY BOARD MEETING.
And beneath it:
PROPOSED CRANE CAPITAL MERGER EXPECTED TO RESHAPE OWNERSHIP.
Crane.
May you like
I knew that name.
Vanessa Crane had sent flowers to my baby shower.
