Chapter 1
There were only two days left before our mandatory pre-divorce separation period was up when Michael Johnson walked through the door carrying his mistress's baby.
A three-month-old infant, wrapped in a $1,600 blanket.
I'd seen that blanket in his shopping cart last month. The note said: [For Anna's Baby].
"Mom said the baby has a little cough. Can you take a look?" Michael said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, as if I were still the family's free babysitter.
His mother, Margaret Johnson, followed behind him, carrying a huge bag of baby supplies. The formula tin had an imported label: [32 ounces, $156].
I'd spent $93,000 buying this house, $15,000 on the car, and over $26,000 over three years transferring money to his family.
However, they wanted me to take care of his baby from the affair.
"Emily, please help out. The baby is innocent." Margaret's tone was as if she were giving me a chance to prove myself.
I looked at the crib in the living room. It had been brought in this morning and cost $2,200. The delivery address on the order was right here.
The divorce papers were still under the glass on the coffee table. In two days, our one-year separation period would be complete, and we could finally file.
I pulled out my phone, hit the record button, and said flatly, "Sure. $660 a day. Pay up front."
*****
"Are you crazy?" Michael's voice jumped.
I lounged on the couch, legs propped up, watching the countdown tick away on my phone screen.
Divorce countdown: 47 hours and 22 minutes left.
"Even a nanny would charge this much. Let alone what you want me to take care of..." I paused, my gaze falling on the baby wrapped in that expensive blanket. "Your bastard child."
Margaret's face flushed red. "Hey. What are you saying? Bastard child? This is Michael's own flesh and blood."
"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
The air in the living room felt like it had turned to ice.
Michael shoved the baby into Margaret's arms and stormed over, his finger practically in my face. "Emily, don't be so shameless. You really think you'll have it good after the divorce?
"This house is mine. The car is mine. You've been a stay-at-home wife for three years. What could you possibly do out there?"
His spit landed on my face.
I didn't flinch. I wiped my face and placed my phone on the coffee table, speaker side up.
The recording kept rolling.
"Alright, see you on the 30th." I stood up, grabbed my bag, and walked out.
"Where are you going?" Michael grabbed my arm. "Don't even think about leaving. You're staying home these next few days and taking care of the baby."
He squeezed so hard my arm hurt.
"Why should I?"
"Because my name's still on the deed." Michael acted as if I owed him for everything I'd done for this family over the past three years.
Margaret walked over, holding the baby, her face dripping with disdain. "Emily, don't think you're some big deal. You haven't worked in three years, just mooching off us. Michael's been footing the bill for you.
"It's not like it's been easy. Now we ask you for a little help, and you start acting all high and mighty?"
I stared straight into Margaret's eyes.
Three years ago, she was holding my hand, telling me, "Emily, you're like my own daughter."
Back then, I'd wired her 100 grand, telling her it was so she and her husband could take a trip and treat themselves.
At this moment, her eyes were only for that three-month-old baby.
"Margaret, your son cheated, got his mistress pregnant, and now you expect me to look after their kid? How is that even right?" I asked.
"Why not?" Margaret shot back, her voice even louder. "You can't give him a child, but Anna can. This baby is the Johnson family's bloodline."
My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag.
"You can't give him a child." Those three words pierced my heart like a dagger.
I couldn't have kids, but not because of any health issue. Three years ago, I had my tubes tied.
Back then, I'd landed a huge case and was planning to take a two-year break. Michael said he wanted a baby. I told him to wait, and he claimed he respected my choice.
But later, I realized he never really respected me. He was waiting for someone who could actually have his baby.
"Whatever. Have it your way." I shook off Michael's hand and stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind me.
Margaret's voice echoed behind me. "What kind of attitude is that? You're getting more disrespectful every day."
I leaned against the door and closed my eyes.
My phone buzzed. Jessica Lane texted: [See you tomorrow. Bring all the evidence.]
I replied: [Got it.]
Then I opened my contacts, found the number labeled "Benjamin Williams," and sent a text.[Benjamin, see you on the 30th.]
He replied instantly: [Got it, Ms. Carter. Everything's ready.]
I slipped my phone into my bag and gazed out the window.
Night had settled in, and the streetlights downstairs lit up one by one.
47 hours left. I could wait this out.