Chapter 1
When I reached the emergency room after my husband's car accident, I heard a little boy crying, "Dad, please don't leave me."
The voice came from behind the half-closed curtain of Ethan's bay.
Forty minutes earlier, the hospital had called while I was approving payroll at our medical center.
Ethan had briefly lost consciousness after the crash. A nurse found my number in his emergency contact file.
Ethan was supposed to be at an orthopedic conference in Boston. His assistant, Marcus, had sent me the itinerary that morning.
I stopped outside the curtain and looked through the gap.
Ethan sat on the edge of the bed with a bandage above his eyebrow. A boy of about six stood between his knees, both hands twisted in Ethan's shirt.
"I'm staying right here," Ethan said.
He held the boy against his chest and rubbed his back until the crying eased.
Vanessa sat beside them. She had worked as our billing coordinator before leaving the medical
center six years ago. Her coat was open over a pregnant belly.
Six years.
I looked at the boy again.
Ethan's mother stood on his other side. She bent down and wiped the tears from the boy's face with a tissue.
"Grandma's here, Leo," she said. "Your mom and dad are safe."
My stomach tightened. I gripped the strap of my purse and stayed where I was.
Three years earlier, after five failed IVF cycles, the adoption agency had been ready to match us with a child. Ethan put the withdrawal form on our kitchen table.
"I can't do this, Claire."
"You said you wanted a family."
"I wanted our child. I can't raise someone else's."
I signed the form. Ethan held me while I cried and told me we were enough.
A nurse approached me in the hallway. "Mrs. Harman?"
I stepped away from the curtain before anyone inside saw me.
"Your husband's injuries are minor," she said. "The doctor is checking the woman and the boy who were in the car with him. She'll speak with you when she's finished."
"I have to go," I said. "His morning surgeries need new doctors. Please tell him I was here."
The head nurse met me at the medical center elevator with Ethan's schedule in her hand.
"His first surgery is at seven tomorrow. What do you want me to do?"
"Give the first two to Dr. Vance. I'll call the other patients."
She handed me the schedule and hurried away.
Before I reached my office, Dr. Vance caught up with me.
"I can take Ethan's first surgery, but the implant order was never signed."
I found the form buried under a stack of unopened mail on Ethan's desk and sent it to the supplier myself.
Dr. Vance glanced at his watch. "I knew you'd fix it."
A week earlier, that would have sounded like praise. Now I wondered how many years I had spent making Ethan look capable.
The payroll screen was still waiting in my office. Ethan had left the approval to me, as he did every Friday.
I authorized the employees' checks, downloaded our latest bank statements, and called Mara.
She answered on the second ring.
"Claire? Is everything okay?"
My fingers tightened around the phone. I had made it through the hospital and the medical center without crying. Hearing her voice nearly broke me.
"No," I said. "I need you to file for divorce."
Mara went quiet.
"And before Ethan finds out," I continued, "I need to know how much money he can move."