Chapter 5
Elara was three years and ten months old. Her IQ test results were off the charts, and she had a real gift for languages. She was currently enrolled in an international kindergarten in Eldholm, and her teachers described her as "bright, sensitive, and independent."
There was also a copy of her medical report, with her blood type clearly listed as AB.
Zack's blood type was AB, and Queenie's was O.
The only possible blood type for the child was AB.
Elara was Zack's daughter. There was no doubt about it.
Zack closed the file, leaned back on the couch, and shut his eyes. Those four missing years were now filled with these cold facts and photos, but it only made his heart ache even more.
He'd missed Queenie's pregnancy, Elara's birth, her first smile, her first steps, her first time calling "Mommy." And Elara might never call him "Daddy."
And Queenie, out of his sight, had left behind the role of Mrs. Finch and grown even more radiant on her own.
She didn't need him anymore.
That realization was like someone had carved a hole in Zack's chest, letting the icy wind pour straight in.
The next day, Zack showed up at the Eldholm International Photography Exhibition.
Queenie's work had its own dedicated section. The theme was Regeneration.
Every photo was of plants: new shoots sprouting from dead wood, wildflowers fighting their way up through frozen earth, the first hint of green after a forest fire. Each one radiated an unstoppable vitality.
In the center of the exhibit was a large installation art piece: a nest made from recycled glass, metal, and dried plants. Inside were photos of Elara from birth to now, along with Queenie's handwritten note.
The note read: [You are the flower I nurtured from the ashes.
[I will give you a castle all your own, no prince required.
[We are stars for each other, shining together.]
Zack stood before the nest, looking at Elara's beaming photos and Queenie's graceful, strong handwriting. His eyes stung with emotion.
"You have an interest in natural art too, Mr. Finch?" A calm, crisp female voice sounded from behind him.
Zack spun around.
Queenie was standing ten feet behind him.
Today, she wore a charcoal gray blazer dress, her long hair down, her makeup impeccable, radiating confidence and poise. Gone was the gentle mother from the airport last night; standing there now was Queenie the artist.
"Queenie..." Zack's voice was hoarse.
"Mr. Finch, please call me Ms. Goodman," Queenie corrected calmly, her tone polite but distant. "We're not that close."
Zack swallowed hard, forcing down the ache in his chest. "I want to talk to you."
"What do you want to talk about?" Queenie raised an eyebrow. "If it's about the divorce agreement, my lawyer will contact you. If it's anything else, I don't think we have anything left to discuss."
Zack said, "Elara..."
"Elara is my daughter," Queenie cut him off, her gaze suddenly cold. "Zack, don't even think about claiming her. You were never around these past four years, so don't expect to take credit for her now."
Zack protested, "I didn't know. If I'd known you were pregnant, I never would've..."
"Never would've what?" Queenie smiled, but her smile didn't reach her eyes.
She continued, "Would you not have gone to Mandy on our anniversary? Would you not have shut me out for three years? Would you not have vanished every time I needed you?
"Zack, stop lying to yourself. Even if you had known, it would have changed nothing. You never wanted children, especially not mine."
Her words cut right to the heart of their marriage, sharp as knives.
Zack's face went pale. "That's not true... I..."
Just then, a tall, blond, blue-eyed man walked over and naturally put his arm around Queenie's shoulders. "Ms. Goodman, the media interviews are about to start. Time to get ready."
Queenie smiled at the man. It was a kind of relaxed, trusting smile Zack had never seen from her before. "Okay, I'll be right there."
She glanced at Zack, her polite distance returning. "Excuse me, Mr. Finch. I'll leave you to it. Feel free to look around."
With that, she and the man walked off side by side, chatting quietly.
The man leaned in, listening closely. The way he did it was unmistakably close.
Zack stood there, watching them walk away, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white with tension.
Zack wondered who the guy was.
Who was he to Queenie?
Was this guy the one by her side these past four years?
Jealousy coiled around Zack's heart like a snake, biting deep. But what right did he have to feel jealous? After all, he was the one who drove her away with his own hands.