Chapter 4
Outside, the night had settled in, and the chill of March seeped through the cracks in the window.
The light in the study next door was still on.
Edward's voice drifted over, too faint to make out what he was saying.
But Claire knew exactly what was going on.
He was calling Isabelle White.
Back then, she'd thought it was just a work call.
This time, she wasn't even going to bother guessing.
She rolled over, closed her eyes, and let herself drift off.
She had better sleep, because the next day was going to be busy.
Just before sleep claimed her, one last thought lingered.
It was Edward Harper.
He had played the perfect husband for twelve years.
This time it was her turn to put on a show for him.
She would play the perfect little wife, obedient and sweet and completely in the dark, exactly the way he liked her.
She would keep the act up until he finally let his guard down.
She would keep it up until he was certain he had everything under control.
And then the last part would come.
When the curtain finally fell, he would find that the director had been replaced long ago.
*****
On the third day, Claire went to the hospital.
The OB-GYN department at Riverside General Hospital was thick with the smell of disinfectant. Expectant mothers queued up in the hallway, their bellies prominent, while their husbands hovered nearby, clutching thermos mugs and patient files.
Claire came alone.
She had an appointment with Helen Grant.
In her previous life, Claire had only met Helen after she was already confined to a wheelchair.
Helen was her attending physician during her post-surgery recovery, and there was always a hint of helplessness in her eyes when she looked at Claire.
"Claire, if you'd had an MRI before delivery and chosen a C-section, it didn't have to be this way," Helen had said.
It did not have to be this way.
Those words had weighed on her for twelve years.
This time, she came early.
She registered, waited in line, and finally got called.
Claire pushed open the door to the exam room. Helen was filling out paperwork and glanced up at her.
Helen was in her forties, with short, tidy hair and black-rimmed glasses. She looked every bit the seasoned surgeon.
"Have a seat. What's going on?" Helen asked.
Claire handed over her patient file.
"Dr. Grant, I'm three months pregnant and would like a full pelvic and spinal assessment," Claire said.
Helen flipped through the file, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Who suggested you get this assessment? It's a bit early for a pelvic evaluation at three months," Helen said.
"I want it done," Claire replied, her voice steady. "I've had a previous lumbar injury, and I just want to make sure it won't affect how I give birth."
That was a lie. She didn't have any old injury. But she needed a reason for Helen to pay attention to her spine early on.
Helen gave her a look, her gaze lingering for a couple of seconds.
"An old injury? When did that happen?" Helen asked.
"I fell playing basketball in high school. Back then, I didn't really pay attention to it," Claire replied.
Helen adjusted her glasses. "Alright, I'll write you a referral. We can't do MRI or X-ray during pregnancy, so we'll start with an ultrasound and a physical exam."
Claire nodded.
"Also," Claire said, "Dr. Grant, I want to know everything about C-sections ahead of time."
Helen stopped writing and looked up at her.
"You're only three months along. It's a bit early to discuss that," she replied.
"I want to know now," Claire said, her tone firm. "If my pelvic condition isn't good, I won't take any chances with a natural birth."
Helen stared at her for a few seconds, realizing Claire wasn't going to back down.
"Alright," Helen said, picking up her pen to write the referral. "Let's get the assessment done first, and we'll talk about it once the results come in."
By the time Claire finished her check-up and got home, it was already two in the afternoon.
Edward wasn't home.
Claire changed into some comfy clothes and settled into the study.
The Harper estate's study was huge. One wall was lined with books, and the other featured a safe and several file cabinets.
There was the safe.
The code was Edward's father's birthday, November 23, 1947.
In her previous life, Claire only found out the code just before Deborah died. She held Claire's hand, her eyes filled with guilt.
"Claire, there are some things in the safe. Take them..." Deborah had said.
But she never finished the sentence, because she passed away.
By the time Claire got to the safe, the Harper family's butler had already emptied it.
Inside, there was just a blank page and an empty envelope.
Every will and every agreement had been wiped out.
This time, she wasn't going to let them empty it again.
Claire walked up to the safe, her finger hovering over the keypad.
1-9-4-7-1-2-3.
The lock clicked open.
As she opened the door, Claire's heart skipped a beat.
There was more inside than she'd expected.
On the top shelf, there were stacks of cash and a few property deeds.
The middle shelf held several file folders, each labeled: [Harper Holdings Charter], [Shareholding Agreement] and [Notarized Will.]
On the bottom shelf was a deep blue velvet box.
Claire picked up the [Shareholding Agreement] first.
She opened it and scanned through each page.
It was exactly what she had thought.
It matched her memory exactly.
Edward's 34% stake was registered under Deborah's name. The agreement stated that if Edward died or became incapacitated, the shares would be inherited by his direct descendants, with the legal guardian acting as trustee.
Claire took out her phone and snapped a photo of every page.
Next, she took out the notarized will.
It was Deborah's will.
But when Claire opened it, her breath caught in her throat.
This will was nothing like what she'd been told in her last life.
"Mrs. Deborah Harper said, everything goes to her grandson." That was what the butler told her back then.
But the will revealed a completely different truth.
[I, Deborah Harper, hereby declare.]
[Upon my death, the 34% stake in Harper Holdings that I hold in trust shall be managed solely by Claire Jennings, with no interference from anyone else.]
Claire has full rights to handle these shares as she sees fit, and that includes selling, transferring, or mortgaging them.]
Claire's fingers trembled.
It was not for her grandson.
It was for her, and it was for Claire.
She had full control.