Chapter 2

Series 1 Chapter 2

At seven the next morning, Daniel came home carrying coffee and cranberry scones.

He glanced at the untouched Thanksgiving dinner, then crossed the room and pressed his hand to my forehead.

"Why are you so pale? Were you sick again last night?"

Daniel knew the medication after my embryo transfer made me nauseous. He did not know that this transfer had worked.

A sweet, woodsy scent clung to his coat. My stomach lurched.

It was the same scent as the perfume in the box.

I rushed to the bathroom. Daniel followed, gathered my hair over one shoulder, and brought me a glass of warm water.

His movements were no different from the way he had cared for me over the past four years. If anything, he was more patient than most husbands would have been.

That was exactly what made me sick.

A man could spend the night in his mistress's bed, then come home the next morning and rub his wife's back while she threw up.

"Did the clinic call yesterday?" he asked.

I gripped the sink and looked at him in the mirror.

"The doctor wants me back next week for another checkup."

"Another one?" Daniel frowned. "Nora, if this round didn't work, we need to stop. Four years is enough. I can't keep watching you put your body through this."

Six months earlier, he had held my hand and begged me to try one last time. He had promised that no matter what happened, he would see me through it.

Now our baby was here, and suddenly I did not want him to know.

"Where did you sleep last night?" I asked.

Daniel did not look away.

"In a hotel suite. The maintenance crew worked until three in the morning. I couldn't exactly abandon everyone."

He bent and kissed my forehead.

"Stop overthinking things. Get some rest. I'll shower, then we'll have breakfast together."

The lie came too easily. He did not even pause.

If the perfume had not been locked in my office, I might have believed him again.

While Daniel showered, I opened my laptop to pay for the next checkup.

The account page loaded, and I froze.

The "Future Fund" we had built together had only $3,214 left in it. Nine months earlier, the balance had been more than $56,000.

I downloaded every statement.

Daniel had made eight payments totaling $48,000 to St. Catherine's Academy. The last payment, for $21,000, was labeled ANNUAL TUITION PAID IN FULL.

The first payment had been made nine months earlier, the same month he commissioned Lauren's perfume.

More cruelly, he had made it the day after convincing me to move the last of my premarital savings into our "Future Fund."

He had told me his company was short on cash and that we needed to save for another transfer.

I believed him.

I moved thirty thousand dollars into our joint account, switched to cheaper health insurance, and sold the camera my mother had left me.

While Daniel told me to save every dollar for our baby, he took $48,000 from that account to pay tuition for someone I did not even know.

It was not that he did not have the money.

He simply did not want to spend it on me or our child.

Catherine, the divorce attorney, called as soon as she reviewed the statements.

"Don't confront him yet. We still don't know how St. Catherine's is connected to Lauren. Right now, you need to do two things. Preserve every record, and build an exit that does not depend on him."

After the call, I contacted Maya, the woman who had been my business partner six years earlier.

When I married Daniel, he wanted me to focus on managing his company's books, so I stepped away from the consulting firm I had helped build. Once a year, Maya asked if I was ready to come back.

Every year, I told her to give me more time.

This time, I did not wait.

As soon as she answered, I asked, "Is the senior consultant position you mentioned last month still open?"

Maya was silent for two seconds.

"It is. If you're sure, you can start Monday. Nora, what happened?"

"I'll tell you when I'm settled." I tightened my grip on the phone. "Send me the contract first."

Before the water stopped running in the bathroom, I signed the employment agreement.

Daniel came out drying his hair, looking relaxed. He told me he had booked us a table for Saturday night to make up for Thanksgiving.

"Seven o'clock. The place where we had our first date. Just the two of us this time. I promise I won't take a single work call."

The moment he finished speaking, an alert appeared on the laptop he had left open on his desk.

ST. CATHERINE'S WINTER LIGHTS

FAMILY DONOR CHECK-IN

SATURDAY, 6:00 P.M.

Daniel snapped the laptop shut.

I looked at him and deliberately asked, "No work on Saturday?"

"None," he answered too quickly. "I'll pick you up on time."

I smiled and nodded.

Daniel did not know I had memorized the school's address.

On Saturday night, I had no intention of waiting for him at the restaurant. I wanted to see for myself what kind of family he had bought with our $48,000.

Chapter 2

Series 1 Chapter 2

At seven the next morning, Daniel came home carrying coffee and cranberry scones.

He glanced at the untouched Thanksgiving dinner, then crossed the room and pressed his hand to my forehead.

"Why are you so pale? Were you sick again last night?"

Daniel knew the medication after my embryo transfer made me nauseous. He did not know that this transfer had worked.

A sweet, woodsy scent clung to his coat. My stomach lurched.

It was the same scent as the perfume in the box.

I rushed to the bathroom. Daniel followed, gathered my hair over one shoulder, and brought me a glass of warm water.

His movements were no different from the way he had cared for me over the past four years. If anything, he was more patient than most husbands would have been.

That was exactly what made me sick.

A man could spend the night in his mistress's bed, then come home the next morning and rub his wife's back while she threw up.

"Did the clinic call yesterday?" he asked.

I gripped the sink and looked at him in the mirror.

"The doctor wants me back next week for another checkup."

"Another one?" Daniel frowned. "Nora, if this round didn't work, we need to stop. Four years is enough. I can't keep watching you put your body through this."

Six months earlier, he had held my hand and begged me to try one last time. He had promised that no matter what happened, he would see me through it.

Now our baby was here, and suddenly I did not want him to know.

"Where did you sleep last night?" I asked.

Daniel did not look away.

"In a hotel suite. The maintenance crew worked until three in the morning. I couldn't exactly abandon everyone."

He bent and kissed my forehead.

"Stop overthinking things. Get some rest. I'll shower, then we'll have breakfast together."

The lie came too easily. He did not even pause.

If the perfume had not been locked in my office, I might have believed him again.

While Daniel showered, I opened my laptop to pay for the next checkup.

The account page loaded, and I froze.

The "Future Fund" we had built together had only $3,214 left in it. Nine months earlier, the balance had been more than $56,000.

I downloaded every statement.

Daniel had made eight payments totaling $48,000 to St. Catherine's Academy. The last payment, for $21,000, was labeled ANNUAL TUITION PAID IN FULL.

The first payment had been made nine months earlier, the same month he commissioned Lauren's perfume.

More cruelly, he had made it the day after convincing me to move the last of my premarital savings into our "Future Fund."

He had told me his company was short on cash and that we needed to save for another transfer.

I believed him.

I moved thirty thousand dollars into our joint account, switched to cheaper health insurance, and sold the camera my mother had left me.

While Daniel told me to save every dollar for our baby, he took $48,000 from that account to pay tuition for someone I did not even know.

It was not that he did not have the money.

He simply did not want to spend it on me or our child.

Catherine, the divorce attorney, called as soon as she reviewed the statements.

"Don't confront him yet. We still don't know how St. Catherine's is connected to Lauren. Right now, you need to do two things. Preserve every record, and build an exit that does not depend on him."

After the call, I contacted Maya, the woman who had been my business partner six years earlier.

When I married Daniel, he wanted me to focus on managing his company's books, so I stepped away from the consulting firm I had helped build. Once a year, Maya asked if I was ready to come back.

Every year, I told her to give me more time.

This time, I did not wait.

As soon as she answered, I asked, "Is the senior consultant position you mentioned last month still open?"

Maya was silent for two seconds.

"It is. If you're sure, you can start Monday. Nora, what happened?"

"I'll tell you when I'm settled." I tightened my grip on the phone. "Send me the contract first."

Before the water stopped running in the bathroom, I signed the employment agreement.

Daniel came out drying his hair, looking relaxed. He told me he had booked us a table for Saturday night to make up for Thanksgiving.

"Seven o'clock. The place where we had our first date. Just the two of us this time. I promise I won't take a single work call."

The moment he finished speaking, an alert appeared on the laptop he had left open on his desk.

ST. CATHERINE'S WINTER LIGHTS

FAMILY DONOR CHECK-IN

SATURDAY, 6:00 P.M.

Daniel snapped the laptop shut.

I looked at him and deliberately asked, "No work on Saturday?"

"None," he answered too quickly. "I'll pick you up on time."

I smiled and nodded.

Daniel did not know I had memorized the school's address.

On Saturday night, I had no intention of waiting for him at the restaurant. I wanted to see for myself what kind of family he had bought with our $48,000.