Chapter 3

It was four in the morning when the front door opened.

I was sitting in the dark living room. I quickly closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep on the sofa.

Grant walked in. He smelled like cold night air and hospital sanitizer.

He didn't wake me. Instead, he carefully lifted me into his arms and carried me upstairs to our bed. He laid down beside me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and buried his face deep into my neck.

He let out a long, exhausted sigh.

He was seeking comfort from me after spending the entire night terrified for another woman.

The next morning, he kissed my cheek while putting on his tie.

"I have a sudden business trip," he told me, his eyes looking slightly guilty. "A project in the next city has some issues. I will be gone for two days."

He was lying. At twenty-one weeks, Paige was probably due for her detailed anatomy scan.

"Okay," I said calmly. "Drive safe."

He kissed me one last time, completely unaware that it would be his last.

As soon as Grant’s car left the driveway, I walked into his home office.

I needed to gather my passport and my mother’s old property deeds from the safe. While looking for them, I noticed the bottom drawer of his heavy oak desk.

It was locked.

I knew Grant’s habits better than he knew himself. I reached under the desk lamp and found the small silver key taped to the bottom.

I opened the drawer.

Inside was a thick stack of documents. I pulled them out one by one.

The first was a property transfer. Willow House had been put into a private trust.

The second was a premium education insurance fund. The beneficiary was Baby Mercer-Lawson.

The last item was a glossy photograph.

It was Grant and Paige. They were standing on the porch of Willow House. Paige was wearing a white dress, holding her swollen belly. Grant was standing behind her, his arms wrapped around her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

They looked like a perfect, happy family.

The documents were dated four months ago.

He had been planning this second family for months. He used private accounts and off-shore trusts so I would never see the money leaving his company.

He never intended to make a choice. He planned to keep me in the dark forever.

Suddenly, the backup phone Grant kept on his desk buzzed.

I picked it up. It was his executive assistant, Mark.

I pressed answer.

"Mr. Lawson," Mark said quickly, thinking I was Grant. "Miss Paige is insisting on posting her maternity photos on social media. I have blocked the PR release just like you asked. Don't worry, Mrs. Lawson will not see any news about it."

I stood perfectly still. The silence in the room was deafening.

"Mr. Lawson?" Mark asked.

"Thank you, Mark," I said, my voice eerily calm.

Mark gasped loudly on the other end, but I had already hung up the phone.

I didn't need any more proof.

I packed one small suitcase.

I only took my clothes, my IDs, and my mother’s jewelry. I did not take a single diamond Grant had bought me. I did not touch our joint bank accounts.

I turned off the location sharing on my phone. I took out my SIM card and threw it into the trash can.

Then, I walked into the kitchen.

I slid the heavy diamond wedding ring off my finger. It made a sharp clink as I placed it on the cold marble island.

Next to the ring, I left a signed divorce agreement.

And finally, I placed a white envelope on the table.

I wrote two words on the front: For Grant.

Inside the envelope, there was my eight-week ultrasound photo. There was a pair of tiny white baby socks I had bought days ago. There was the pregnancy announcement card I had planned to give him.

And a single sticky note.

I picked up a pen and wrote one sentence.

You do not have to hide her from me anymore.

I walked out of the front door. Megan was already waiting in her car at the end of the street.

At that exact moment, across the city, Grant was sitting in a sunny hospital room.

He was holding Paige’s hand. He was looking at the ultrasound monitor, watching their baby move, with a soft, gentle smile on his face.

He pulled out his phone and sent a message to my dead number.

My meetings are almost over, sweetheart. I will be home by dinner. Wait for me. I love you.

I didn't reply.

I got into Megan’s car and closed the door.

I placed one hand over the child he had never known existed and watched our home disappear behind me.

By the time Grant opened the envelope, his wife and baby were already gone.