MY MAFIA BOSS HUSBAND ABANDONED ME IN LABOR TO WELCOME HIS MISTRESS’S SON

I counted every turn.

Every traffic light.

Every intersection.

By the time our driver reached the hotel, my hands were trembling.

Not because I believed Vincent would necessarily hurt Emily.

Because I knew how quickly fear could become control in his world.

"Take the service entrance," I told the driver.

He glanced at the mirror.

"Ma'am?"

"Please."

He obeyed.

The SUV continued past the hotel.

I waited until it disappeared before allowing myself to breathe.

Inside our room, Emily changed into pajamas and carefully placed her award on the bedside table.

"Mommy?"

"Yes?"

"Did Daddy come because he knew I was getting a prize?"

"No, sweetheart."

"Then why was he there?"

"He helps sponsor the program."

She thought about that.

"That's a strange coincidence."

I almost smiled.

"Very strange."

Emily climbed beneath the blankets.

"Do you think he likes math?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe I could ask him someday."

The innocence of that sentence hurt more than any accusation Vincent could have made.

I sat beside her.

"Emily, you can ask questions about your father whenever you want. You never have to worry about hurting my feelings."

She nodded.

"But you don't have to decide anything tonight."

"Okay."

Within minutes, she was asleep.

I called Madison.

She answered immediately.

"I saw the video."

My stomach dropped.

"What video?"

"Someone posted Claire Bennett confronting Vincent Moretti at his foundation ceremony. It's spreading everywhere."

I closed my eyes.

"Wonderful."

"How's Emily?"

"She's fine."

"And Vincent?"

"I don't care."

Madison paused.

"Claire."

"What?"

"His people are already contacting the foundation administrators for information about her."

I went cold.

"How do you know?"

"One of the program's attorneys called me. They wanted to know whether they could release her application records."

"What did you tell them?"

"Absolutely not without proper legal authority."

I walked toward the window.

Chicago glittered beneath the clouds.

"I think Anthony Russo followed us."

Madison's tone changed.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Then document it. I'll contact local counsel tonight."

The next morning, a bouquet arrived.

White roses.

My favorite flowers when I was twenty-three.

Attached was a card.

Claire, please give me one chance to explain. Vincent.

I sent them back.

An hour later, the hotel manager called.

"Mrs. Bennett, there's a gentleman downstairs."

"Tell him I'm unavailable."

"He says his name is Vincent Moretti."

"Then he should know how to contact an attorney."

I hung up.

Five minutes later, my phone rang from an unfamiliar number.

I answered.

"Claire."

I recognized his voice immediately.

"How did you get this number?"

"Please don't hang up."

"Vincent."

"I know you're angry."

I laughed once.

"Angry?"

"Let me explain."

"Seven years ago, you walked away from me while I was giving birth. You looked at our daughter and answered another woman's phone call. What explanation could possibly make that acceptable?"

Silence.

Then he said, "I was told you left because you never wanted me near her."

"You signed the custody documents."

"I know."

"You knew where we lived."

"I know."

"You could have sent a birthday card."

His breathing changed.

"You think I don't regret it?"

"I think regret is very convenient when nobody is asking you to do anything difficult."

"Claire, I want to meet her."

"That is not your decision alone."

"She's my daughter."

I closed my eyes.

"She was your daughter when she was born."

He made a sound that was almost a gasp.

Then he said, "I'll give you anything."

I stared at the phone.

"What?"

"Money. Security. A house. Whatever Emily needs."

"She has a home."

"I can establish a trust."

"She has savings."

"I can give her opportunities you can't imagine."

My voice turned quiet.

"Vincent, she already has the one thing you never gave her."

"What's that?"

"A parent who shows up."

I ended the call.

That afternoon, Vincent sent a formal request through his attorney seeking to review the custody arrangement and establish a gradual relationship with Emily.

Madison called me after receiving it.

"He has the right to petition the court," she explained. "But he doesn't get to dictate the outcome. Emily's best interests come first."

I stared at the documents.

"What should I do?"

"Tell the truth. And let the process work."

I looked toward the adjoining room.

Emily was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, helping the hotel housekeeper's teenage daughter solve an algebra puzzle.

She was laughing.

Happy.

Safe.

Unaware that her father had decided to reenter her life.

Then my phone buzzed.