Chapter 5 - The First Time I Held My Children
Three days after I returned from Miami, I received the most important email of my life.
It was not from an investor.
It was not from a government official.
It was from Margaret Ellis.
The subject line read:
Proposed Initial Parenting Visit.
I opened it so quickly that my hands shook.
Claire had agreed to let me meet Ethan and Eva.
The visit would take place at a private family services office in downtown Chicago.
It would last ninety minutes.
A licensed newborn care specialist would be present, along with Margaret.
Claire would decide whether she wanted to attend.
I was asked not to bring gifts, photographers, or company security personnel.
I immediately accepted.
Then I sat at my desk staring at the confirmation.
For years, ninety minutes had been an amount of time I complained about losing.
A meeting that ran late.
A delayed flight.
A restaurant taking too long to serve dinner.
Now ninety minutes with my own children felt more valuable than every contract I'd ever signed.
The night before the visit, I watched six instructional videos about newborn care.
I learned how to support a baby's head.
How to prepare a bottle.
How to recognize hunger cues.
How to change a diaper.
How to soothe an infant without shaking or jostling.
I wrote notes in a small notebook.
I was forty-one years old.
I managed a multinational corporation.
And I had to learn basic things that Claire had been trying to share with me for months.
At 9:30 the following morning, I arrived at the family services office.
I wore jeans and a dark sweater.
For the first time in years, I had no watch on my wrist.
I didn't want to spend even one second checking the time.
A woman named Karen Mitchell greeted me.
She was a pediatric nurse and newborn care specialist with twenty years of experience.
"Mr. Knox?"
"Yes."
"Your children are already here."
My heart stopped.
She opened the door.
Two bassinets stood beside a large window.
And inside them were my son and daughter.
Ethan was sleeping.
Eva was awake, moving her tiny fists beneath a pale pink blanket.
For a moment, I couldn't move.
I had watched videos.
I had studied photographs.
But nothing prepared me for seeing them in person.
They were real.
Not names on hospital bracelets.
Not images on a tablet.
Two living children.
Mine.
Karen spoke gently.
"Would you like to come closer?"
I nodded.
My legs felt strangely unsteady.
I approached Eva first.
She had dark hair like mine.
Her nose was small and delicate.
Her eyes were open, studying something beyond my shoulder.
"Hello, sweetheart," I whispered.
My voice broke.
"I'm your dad."
The word felt unfamiliar.
Dad.
I had imagined being called that for years.
But I had never imagined introducing myself to my daughter after she had already spent days in the world without me.
I touched one finger against her tiny hand.
Her fingers curled around it.
And I cried.
I couldn't help it.
Karen gave me a tissue.
"Would you like to hold her?"
I looked up.
"Can I?"
"Of course."
She demonstrated how to support Eva's head and body.
Then she placed my daughter carefully in my arms.
Eva weighed a little over five pounds.
She was so light that I was afraid to breathe.
I looked down at her.
"Hi, Eva."
Her mouth moved.
A tiny sound escaped her.
I smiled through tears.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there."
She blinked.
"I'm so sorry."
There was no way she could understand.
But I needed to say it.
I needed those words to exist somewhere outside my head.
After several minutes, Karen gently suggested I meet Ethan.
My son had begun to wake.
He stretched his arms and opened his mouth in a small yawn.
I laughed.
It startled me.
I hadn't laughed since discovering the empty cribs.
Karen placed him in my arms.
He looked like a miniature version of my father.
The same dark hair.
The same serious expression.
I swallowed.
"Your grandfather would have loved you."
Ethan wriggled.
"He would've taught you how to fix things."
I looked at his tiny face.
"Maybe he'll have to teach me something instead."
The door opened.
Claire stood in the doorway.
I hadn't heard her arrive.
She wore a blue cardigan and loose black pants.
Her hair was pulled back.
She still looked tired.
But there was something softer about her expression as she watched me holding Ethan.
For one dangerous second, I imagined everything could return to normal.
That I could walk toward her.
That she would smile.
That we would take the twins home.
Then I remembered the hospital.
The yacht.
The calls.
I stayed where I was.
"Hi," I said.
"Hi."
She looked at Ethan.
"He's usually very serious when he wakes up."
I smiled faintly.
"Like my father."
"Yes."
Our eyes met.
Claire looked away first.
Karen asked whether I wanted to try feeding him.
I did.
Under her guidance, I prepared a bottle using the milk Claire had provided.
Ethan latched onto it immediately.
I watched in astonishment as he drank.
"He's hungry," I whispered.
Claire almost smiled.
"He usually is."
For twenty minutes, the room felt almost peaceful.
We discussed feeding schedules.
Eva's follow-up appointment.
The babies' weight gain.
The fact that Ethan disliked having his feet uncovered.
The way Eva settled when someone hummed softly.
Then I asked the question I'd been trying not to ask.
"Are you getting enough rest?"
Claire looked at me.
"As much as anyone with newborn twins can."
"Do you have help?"
"Yes."
"Good."
I hesitated.
"If you need anything—"
"Adrian."
I stopped.
She looked at the bottle in my hand.
"They need you to keep showing up."
I nodded.
"I will."
"Even when it's inconvenient."
"Yes."
"Even when they cry for hours."
"Yes."
"Even when there's nothing exciting about it."
I met her eyes.
"Especially then."
She studied me for several seconds.
Then she looked away.
At the end of the visit, Karen showed me how to change Ethan's diaper.
I managed to fasten it backward on my first attempt.
Claire let out a small laugh.
The sound caught me completely off guard.
For a second, she looked like the woman I had married.
Then she covered her mouth.
"Sorry."
"Don't be."
I looked down at Ethan.
"Your father is apparently incompetent."
Karen helped me correct the diaper.
I wrote another note in my notebook.
Claire noticed.
"Are you taking notes?"
"Yes."
"About diapers?"
"And feeding. And how Eva likes to be held."
She looked at me strangely.
I swallowed.
"I should have been learning this with you."
Her face changed.
For a moment, I thought she might cry.
Instead, she said, "Yes. You should have."
The visit ended at eleven.
I placed Ethan back in his bassinet.
I kissed Eva's forehead.
Then I looked at Claire.
"Thank you."
She nodded.
"Margaret will contact you about the next visit."
I wanted to ask whether she would come.
But I didn't.
I walked out alone.
In the elevator, I leaned against the wall and cried again.
Not because Claire had refused to come home.
Because I had finally held my children.
And I knew I had almost thrown away the privilege of knowing them.
At noon, Rebecca called.
"We have a problem."
I straightened.
"What happened?"
"A reporter from the Chicago Herald contacted our communications office."
"About what?"
"Someone told her Claire disappeared with the twins after learning about your affair."
I closed my eyes.
"That's true."
"That's not all."
Rebecca continued.
"The source claims Claire is refusing reasonable contact and intends to use the children to force a major financial settlement."
My blood turned cold.
"Who said that?"
"The reporter won't identify the source."
"Has she published?"
"Not yet."
I looked at the photograph of Ethan and Eva on my phone.
"Prepare a statement."
Rebecca hesitated.
"Adrian, you should speak with counsel first."
"I will. But I know what I'm going to say."
An hour later, with approval from independent counsel and after informing Margaret, I released a short statement.
My wife recently gave birth to our two children. I was not present because I made a deeply selfish decision.
Claire has acted to protect our children, and I support their safety and privacy.
She has not demanded money in exchange for access to them. Any suggestion otherwise is false.
Our family matters are private, and I ask that Claire and the children be left alone.
I read the statement several times before allowing it to be released.
It was the first public statement of my career that did not attempt to make me look successful.
I didn't blame scheduling.
I didn't mention stress.
I didn't pretend there had been a misunderstanding.
I simply told the truth.
By evening, the story was everywhere.
Billionaire Abandons Wife During Twin Delivery.
Knox Dynamics Founder Admits Affair.
$11.8 Million Miami Penthouse Linked to Marriage Collapse.
Commentators discussed my wealth.
My marriage.
My morality.
Some called me cruel.
Others wondered whether Claire had been planning an expensive divorce.
I turned off the television.
For once, I didn't care what strangers thought of me.
I cared that Claire would have to read those headlines while recovering from childbirth.
I called Margaret.
"Please tell Claire I didn't authorize the leak."
"She knows."
"Is she upset?"
"Of course."
I closed my eyes.
"I didn't want this."
"Neither did she."
A silence followed.
Then Margaret spoke again.
"Mr. Knox, Claire asked me to pass along a message."
I sat up.
"What?"
"She appreciated that you didn't make her defend herself publicly."
I swallowed.
"That's the least I could do."
"Yes," Margaret said. "It is."
After the call, Daniel entered my office.
He looked exhausted.
"Sir, we've traced the media leak."
"To whom?"
"A communications consultant connected to Sienna Vale."
I stared at him.
"Does Victor know?"
"Possibly. There are overlapping contacts."
I stood.
"Then it's time to stop allowing these people to hide behind contracts."
Daniel hesitated.
"There's something more urgent."
He placed a photograph on my desk.
It showed a dark SUV parked outside the family services office.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
"Where did you get this?"
"An independent security investigator working with Margaret's firm noticed a vehicle conducting repeated passes around the building. The investigator documented it and contacted police."
I looked closer.
The license plate was partially obscured.
But I recognized the model.
A black Chevrolet Suburban.
The same type of vehicle Knox Dynamics used for executive protection.
"Was it one of ours?"
"We're checking."
I stared at the photograph.
Then Daniel showed me another image.
The driver was visible through the windshield.
Julian Mercer.
I felt all the warmth leave my body.
Julian had been outside the building while I held my children.
He knew where my first parenting visit was taking place.
And he hadn't been there to protect anyone.
I grabbed my phone and called Margaret.
"Move Claire and the babies away from that location," I said.
"They've already left."
"Julian Mercer was outside."
A sharp silence.
Then Margaret answered.
"We know. That's why we ended the visit on schedule and used a different departure route."
I gripped the desk.
"Is Claire safe?"
"Yes."
"And the twins?"
"Yes."
I exhaled.
"Do not tell me where they are. Just make sure someone trustworthy is with them."
Margaret's voice softened.
"That's the first sensible instruction you've given me."
I ended the call.
Then I looked at Daniel.
"Find out who Julian answers to."
Daniel nodded.
But as he reached the door, his phone rang.
He answered, listened, and went pale.
"Sir."
"What?"
"Northbridge's internal legal liaison just contacted Rebecca."
"And?"
"There's been an incident involving one of their former employees."
My pulse quickened.
"What kind of incident?"
"A woman named Ava Ruiz has been trying to report unauthorized surveillance for months."
"Is she all right?"
"She is. But someone entered her apartment while she was at work and searched her files."
I stared at him.
"Did they take anything?"
"Her laptop."
"Was she hurt?"
"No. She went directly to the police."
I exhaled slowly.
Daniel swallowed.
"Adrian, she says she has evidence that the monitoring program was never meant to protect Claire."
I looked toward the empty nursery through the open office door.
"What was it meant to do?"
May you like
Daniel's answer came quietly.
"Control her before your children were born."
