Chapter 3
The phone rang three times before Emily picked up. "Claire? Why are you calling so late?"
"Emily, I need your help with something," I said.
"Go ahead."
"I need to get a copy of a surgery record from 1997 at the Sacred Heart Hospital."
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Emily had been a lawyer for thirty years and had seen about everything, but she still asked, "Is it about you?"
"Yes," I replied.
"What kind of surgery?"
"Appendicitis. Or at least, that's what it seemed."
Emily didn't ask any more questions. "I'll have my assistant check it out tomorrow. Medical records are kept for thirty years, so the 1997 one should still be there. Send me your identification."
"Okay."
"Claire."
"Yeah?"
"No matter what we find, don't tip anyone off."
I hung up and went back to the bedroom.
Richard rolled over and mumbled, "Who was that on the phone?"
"Wrong number," I said.
He grunted and went back to sleep.
I lay beside him, wide awake until dawn.
*****
The next morning, Richard went to the office.
I sat in the living room, waiting for news from Emily.
At 10:30, Emily called. "Got it."
"Go ahead," I said.
"On March 14, 1997, you were admitted to the surgical ward at the Sacred Heart Hospital. The record says you had an acute appendectomy."
"What about the consent form?"
"It was signed by your husband, Richard. Besides the appendectomy, there was another operation: bilateral tubal ligation."
I gripped my phone tightly.
"Richard's name is on the signature line, but the section for the patient's informed consent was left blank. There's no signature or fingerprint from you," Emily continued.
"So, that means—" I said.
"That is, during your appendectomy back then, someone added a sterilization surgery to the consent form.
"Your husband signed it, but the section where you should give your consent was empty." Emily's voice turned icy and rigid, the same tone she used in court. "Claire, under the law at that time, this has constituted—"
"I know." My voice was so calm that it felt strange, even to myself. "Emily, please get me copies of all the original records and have them notarized."
"Anything else?"
"Investigate Richard for me. I need everything on his properties, company shares, and bank accounts."
"What are you planning?"
"I don't know. But I need to see for myself what kind of game I've been caught up in these thirty-eight years."
After hanging up, I walked into the bedroom and opened the closet. It was packed with clothes: Chanel, Hermès, and Dior. Every piece was bought by Richard. He never hesitated to spend money on me.
But suddenly, it felt like these clothes were nothing but a shroud wrapped around me.
The doorbell rang. I walked over and opened it. Standing there was a woman in her early forties. She had wavy hair, was dressed in a pale yellow trench coat, and held a Birkin bag.
She looked at me and smiled. "You must be Mrs. Claire Lane, right?"
"Who are you?" I asked.
She tilted her head, still wearing the same smile. "I'm Caroline Reed. I'm with Richard."
She paused. "I'm also the mother of his two kids."
I stood at the door, my hand still on the doorknob.
Caroline's gaze slid from my face to the crystal chandelier in the villa behind me and then to the oil painting worth 1 million dollars in the entryway. "Mrs. Lane, aren't you going to invite me in?"
"No. If you've got something to say, say it here," I replied.
She raised an eyebrow. "Alright, I'll keep it brief. Richard and I have been together for twenty-three years.
"Our oldest son is twenty-two and studying for his master's degree in Brotonica. Our daughter is seventeen, freshly accepted into a high school in Amiston."
They had been together for twenty-three years. Their oldest son was twenty-two. So in 2001, Richard had already fathered a child with Caroline.
That was the year he took me to Moronsia for a vacation. On the beach, he said, "Claire, having you is all I need in this life."
"So, what brings you here?" I asked.
Caroline reached up to fix her hair, and her diamond-encrusted Cartier bracelet on the wrist caught my eye with a glint. "Divorce. Mrs. Lane, I want you to propose a divorce to Richard."
"Why?"
"Because his two kids are grown up now. It's time they got the official status."
"So you're here acting on Richard's behalf?"
She smiled. "He doesn't know I'm here. But I figured you should handle this with dignity, Mrs. Lane. It's better than hearing it straight from Richard."
"You think I'd agree to a divorce?"
"I think you're a smart woman." She opened her Birkin bag and pulled out a piece of paper. "Here's the list of assets Richard set up for me and the kids.
"An east-side villa, valued at 12 million dollars. Two oceanfront apartments, together worth 10 million dollars. And an investment firm with 15 million dollars in capital. I'm its legal person."
She handed me the paper, but I didn't take it.
Caroline said, "Mrs. Lane, all these years you've been living in this big house, spending Richard's money, and playing the part of his wife. But in reality, you are a nobody.
"You have no children, no career, and no share. In this house, aside from your clothes and jewelry, nothing belongs to you."
I looked at her. "Are you finished?"
"I'm finished."
"Then you can see yourself out."
I closed the door. Before it clicked shut, I caught a flicker of surprise on Caroline's face.
She probably thought I'd fall apart or go crazy. But I didn't. It was because she had no clue that fifteen minutes before she showed up, Emily had told me about that surgery consent form.
Caroline thought she'd dealt me a great shock. What she didn't realize was that I'd been hit with something more crushing before she arrived.
I walked into the living room and sat down, replaying every word Emily had said on the phone in my mind.
The surgery consent form was signed by Richard. The informed consent section was left blank.
Twenty-seven years ago, he robbed me of the chance to be a mother without me knowing it.
Then he went off and had two kids with another woman.
I picked up the bowl of tomato soup from the coffee table, which had gone cold long ago, and downed it in one gulp.
I picked up my phone and sent Emily a text. [Dig up Richard's assets. The more details, the better. And find me a private investigator.]
Emily replied instantly: [I've got a private investigator in mind. He's been with me for fifteen years, never slipped up once. What do you want me to dig up?]
[I want everything between Richard and Caroline from the last twenty-three years: money transfers, real estate deals, and company setups.]
[Anything else?]
[And find out the name of the lead surgeon who did my operation back in 1997. I want to know who he is and where he is now.]
[Claire, are you planning to—"
[I want the truth. Every last bit of it.]