Chapter 5 - The Baby I Was Told I Lost
I had never been pregnant.
At least that was what I believed.
After three years of marriage, the doctors had told me I was healthy.
There had never been a miscarriage.
There had never been a child.
So when I saw that photograph, I couldn’t breathe.
“Explain it.”
Vincent didn’t move.
“Claire…”
“Explain the baby.”
He lowered his head.
“When we were dating, there was an incident.”
“What incident?”
“You were attacked outside the studio.”
I vaguely remembered that night.
I had been walking home.
A van had nearly hit me.
Vincent arrived before the police.
He said it was an accident.
“You were pregnant?”
His silence answered me.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
“You didn’t know.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“You were unconscious.”
My entire body shook.
“How long?”
“Six weeks.”
I covered my mouth.
“What happened?”
Vincent’s eyes filled with grief.
“You lost the pregnancy.”
The room spun.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You told me I had fainted.”
“You were barely conscious when they brought you in.”
“Why did you lie?”
“Because the attack wasn’t random.”
“Who did it?”
“We suspected Marco.”
“But Marco was dead.”
“Not yet.”
I looked at him.
“What happened to the baby?”
Vincent swallowed.
“You miscarried.”
Then Vanessa interrupted.
“That isn’t what happened.”
Vincent turned.
“Vanessa.”
She looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Tell me.”
She hesitated.
“The pregnancy continued.”
I stared at her.
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Claire, listen to me.”
“No.”
I pointed at Vanessa.
“Tell me.”
Vanessa whispered, “You gave birth to a baby girl.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“She was born prematurely.”
I shook my head.
“This is impossible.”
“She survived.”
I looked at Vincent.
He couldn’t look at me.
“Where is she?”
He whispered, “Safe.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“You let me believe my child died.”
“I was trying to save her.”
“From whom?”
“Marco.”
I screamed.
“You stole my daughter!”
“No.”
“You stole years from me!”
“I protected her.”
“Where is she?”
Vincent finally looked at me.
“She’s alive.”
I couldn’t speak.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“She was placed with a family under protection.”
“Why?”
“Because Marco wanted leverage against Vincent.”
I stared at my husband.
“Who has her?”
“A family outside Illinois.”
“Take me to her.”
“Claire—”
“Take me to my daughter.”
Vincent nodded.
The drive lasted three hours.
I sat in silence.
My entire identity had shifted.
I had thought I was a wife.
A dancer.
A woman trying to balance career and marriage.
Now I was a mother.
The Moretti family had stolen eighteen months of my daughter’s life.
When we arrived, a woman opened the door.
She was in her fifties.
She looked frightened.
Then a little girl ran into the room.
She had dark hair.
Green eyes.
And a small birthmark near her left eyebrow.
I gasped.
Vincent whispered, “Her name is Lily.”
The little girl looked at me.
“Who are you?”
My heart shattered.
I knelt.
“My name is Claire.”
She studied me.
“Are you my mom?”
Tears fell down my face.
“Yes.”
Vincent turned away.
The woman who had cared for Lily cried too.
“I was told her mother would eventually come.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We were afraid.”
I looked at Vincent.
He said, “They threatened to kill you.”
I stood.
“You decided I didn’t deserve the choice.”
“I thought death was better than your funeral.”
“That’s not love.”
He flinched.
“No.”
“You don’t get to call that protection anymore.”
Lily reached for my hand.
I took it.
That single touch changed everything.
We returned to Chicago the next morning.
I didn’t go home with Vincent.
I took Lily to my sister Emily’s house.
Vincent did not argue.
The next day, he came alone.
He stood outside.
“I brought everything.”
“What?”
“Your medical records. Lily’s original birth certificate. Every report.”
He handed me a folder.
I didn’t let him in.
“I know what you think of me.”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“I loved you.”
“I know.”
“That’s why I made terrible choices.”
I stared at him.
“Love without honesty becomes control.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He nodded.
“I’m trying to.”
For the first time, his voice sounded less like a crime boss and more like a broken husband.
Behind me, Lily called my name.
Vincent looked toward the sound.
His eyes filled.
“Can I see her?”
I hesitated.
Then I said, “Tomorrow.”
He nodded.
“Thank you.”
He walked away.
I watched him disappear into the winter darkness.
Vanessa called me that night.
“We need to talk.”
“About what?”
“The casting.”
“What about it?”
“Vincent didn’t give me the role because he loved me.”
“I know.”
“He gave it to me because the production has hidden access points.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Money transfers. Security routes. Private meetings.”
I understood.
The production wasn’t just a ballet.
It was bait.
Someone was using it to draw Adrian out.
But Vanessa had one more piece of information.
“Your husband made one mistake.”
“What?”
“He never told you that Adrian has someone inside the Moretti organization.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do we find out?”
Vanessa looked at me.
“We use the production.”
I stared at her.
“You want me to dance?”
“Yes.”
“In Vanessa’s role?”
She nodded.
“Adrian believes the show contains the ledger.”
I looked at the ballet shoes on the floor.
For eight months, I had destroyed myself chasing the role.
Now that role could help expose the people who had lied to me.
I picked up my pointe shoes.
“All right.”
I would dance.
May you like
But this time, I wasn’t dancing for Vincent.
I was dancing for my daughter.
