Chapter 4 - The First Time He Held His Son Like a Father
Twelve days after Claire left, Grant Mercer walked into a family counseling center carrying a diaper bag.
He had bought the bag himself.
Not instructed an assistant to order it.
Not told Maria to prepare it.
He had driven to a baby store, stood in front of a wall of unfamiliar products, and spent almost forty minutes trying to understand why there were so many different kinds of diapers.
The young cashier had recognized him.
Her eyes had widened.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Grant had felt ridiculous holding two packages of diapers and a set of burp cloths.
“Yes?”
“Congratulations on your babies.”
He had stared at her.
Then he managed, “Thank you.”
Now he stood outside a private room where he was supposed to see Eli and Grace for the first time in nearly two weeks.
His hands were shaking.
Grant Mercer did not shake.
Not when gunmen had opened fire on his vehicle seven years earlier.
Not when prosecutors questioned him about missing funds.
Not when a business partner threatened to expose secrets that could destroy his companies.
But the thought of seeing his children without Claire beside him made his pulse race.
Sloane Parker approached from the hallway.
“Mr. Mercer.”
He turned.
“Ms. Parker.”
She looked at the diaper bag.
“Prepared?”
“I think so.”
Her expression remained neutral.
“Before we begin, I need to review the arrangements.”
Grant nodded.
“Of course.”
“This visit will last ninety minutes. Claire has agreed to remain nearby because the babies are still very young and their feeding needs are unpredictable.”
“I understand.”
“No photography for public use. No recording Claire. No security personnel inside the building.”
“They're waiting off-site.”
“Good. If either child needs something you're uncertain about, ask.”
Grant looked at her.
“That's why I'm here.”
Sloane studied him for a moment.
Then she opened the door.
Claire was sitting on a sofa beside the window.
Grace slept against her shoulder.
Eli lay in a portable bassinet beside her.
Grant stopped breathing.
For a moment, the world narrowed to the three people in front of him.
Claire looked different.
Her dark hair was pulled into a loose knot.
There were shadows beneath her eyes.
She wore jeans, a soft gray sweater, and no jewelry except a small silver necklace her mother had given her.
Her wedding ring was gone.
Grant noticed immediately.
He had given her a diamond that cost more than most people earned in several years.
Now the finger where she'd worn it was bare.
“Hello, Grant,” she said.
Her voice was calm.
It hurt more than anger would have.
“Claire.”
He wanted to walk toward her.
He wanted to put his arms around her.
He wanted to tell her everything he had learned in twelve days.
Instead, he stayed where he was.
“Thank you for coming,” he said.
Claire looked down at Grace.
“I wanted the babies to see you.”
He swallowed.
“Can I?”
She nodded toward Eli.
“He's awake.”
Grant moved to the bassinet.
His son was staring toward the ceiling with the unfocused seriousness of a newborn.
He wore a tiny blue outfit decorated with white elephants.
Grant leaned closer.
“Hey, buddy.”
Eli blinked.
Grant smiled despite himself.
“It's me.”
Claire watched silently.
Grant reached toward the baby, then stopped.
“Can I pick him up?”
“Yes.”
He slipped one hand beneath Eli's head and the other beneath his back.
The baby made a startled noise.
Grant froze.
Claire leaned forward.
“Support his neck.”
“I am.”
“A little higher.”
He adjusted his hand.
Eli began crying.
Grant looked alarmed.
“What did I do?”
“Nothing,” Claire said.
The answer was immediate.
For years, he'd been accustomed to people blaming someone whenever anything went wrong.
Now a newborn was crying in his arms, and nobody was at fault.
Claire stood.
“He's probably hungry.”
Grant looked down at his son.
Eli's face had turned red.
His little fists opened and closed.
“What do I do?”
Claire reached for the diaper bag.
“Sit down.”
Grant obeyed.
She prepared a bottle of expressed milk she'd brought for the visit, checked its temperature, and handed it to him.
“Hold him slightly upright. Let him take the nipple when he's ready.”
Grant followed her instructions.
Eli latched onto the bottle.
The crying stopped.
Grant stared.
His son was drinking.
Such a small thing.
Something Claire had done hundreds of times.
Yet Grant felt as though he'd witnessed a miracle.
“He's okay,” he whispered.
Claire looked at him.
“Yes.”
Grant held the bottle carefully.
Eli's tiny fingers rested against his hand.
For the first time, Grant paid attention to the way his son's breathing changed as he settled.
The little movements of his eyebrows.
The soft sound he made between swallows.
It occurred to him that he'd never really watched Eli eat.
He'd seen Claire feeding him.
He'd walked past her while she was feeding him.
He'd kissed the top of the baby's head and continued toward another room.
But he had never sat still long enough to learn the rhythm of his own child.
After a few minutes, Eli stopped drinking.
Grant looked toward Claire.
“Is he finished?”
“Maybe. Give him a moment.”
She showed him how to burp the baby.
Grant placed Eli against his shoulder.
A tiny burp escaped.
Then a small amount of milk landed on his expensive black sweater.
Grant froze.
Claire's lips parted.
For one second, he thought she might laugh.
Instead, she handed him a burp cloth.
“Congratulations,” she said. “You've officially been initiated.”
Grant looked at the stain.
Then at his son.
And he laughed.
A real laugh.
Not the controlled chuckle he used in business meetings.
Not the low, arrogant sound Vanessa had enjoyed hearing.
The laugh of a man who had just discovered something unexpectedly wonderful.
“Worth the sweater,” he said.
Claire looked away.
But he had seen it.
The briefest trace of a smile.
For the next forty minutes, Grant held Eli, changed his diaper with Claire guiding him, and listened while she explained which cries meant hunger and which usually meant discomfort.
When Grace woke, Claire placed her in his arms.
Grant looked down at his daughter.
She had his eyes.
He had noticed that at the hospital.
Now, looking at her tiny face, the resemblance seemed almost unbearable.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
Grace blinked slowly.
He touched her cheek with one finger.
“I'm your daddy.”
Claire turned toward the window.
Grant's voice cracked.
“I know I haven't been very good at that.”
Claire's shoulders stiffened.
He immediately stopped.
He would not turn the babies' visit into a performance of his guilt.
He looked down at Grace.
“But I'm learning.”
The baby made a little sound.
Grant smiled.
“Yeah. I know. You have every reason to be skeptical.”
This time, Claire actually laughed.
Only once.
But he heard it.
And for a moment, something warm moved through the room.
Then the moment passed.
Near the end of the visit, Claire placed Grace back in her bassinet.
Grant stood.
“Can I speak to you for a minute?”
Claire looked toward Sloane, who had been sitting quietly near the door.
Sloane nodded.
“I'll be right outside.”
When the door closed, Grant looked at his wife.
There were a thousand things he wanted to say.
He had rehearsed apologies in the shower.
In the car.
Alone in their bedroom.
Now the words seemed embarrassingly inadequate.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
Claire looked down.
“I know.”
“No. I don't think you do.”
She raised her eyes.
Grant took a breath.
“I knew I was having an affair. I knew I was lying. I knew I was hurting you. But I kept telling myself our marriage was strong enough to survive whatever I did.”
Claire said nothing.
“I treated your loyalty like a guarantee. I treated your exhaustion like an inconvenience. And I treated our children like something I could enjoy whenever I found the time.”
Her eyes filled.
Grant forced himself to continue.
“When Grace was sick, you called me. I listened to that voicemail.”
Claire's face changed.
“You finally listened?”
“Yes.”
She pressed her lips together.
He could see her trying not to cry.
“Grant, I was terrified.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
He lowered his head.
“You're right.”
Claire's voice trembled.
“Grace was so small. She barely weighed seven pounds. The doctor said we needed to bring her in immediately, and I couldn't even think straight. I had Eli crying in the other room. I couldn't find my shoes. I couldn't remember where I'd put the insurance cards.”
Grant stood motionless.
“I kept calling you,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“I thought you would answer because it was about our daughter.”
Tears ran down her face.
“I thought that, whatever was happening between us, you'd still answer for her.”
Grant felt something inside his chest collapse.
“Claire—”
“I watched the nurses examine her. I kept looking toward the doors. Every time someone walked into the room, I thought it would be you.”
She wiped her cheeks angrily.
“I waited until three in the morning.”
Grant could barely breathe.
“I am so sorry.”
Claire shook her head.
“Do you know what finally made me stop waiting?”
He said nothing.
“Naomi brought me a cup of coffee and asked whether I wanted her to stay. She didn't have to. She had worked a twelve-hour shift.”
Claire's voice broke.
“She stayed anyway.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“That was when I realized I didn't need someone who could buy me anything. I needed someone who would show up.”
He looked at her.
“I should have been there.”
“Yes.”
No comfort.
No softening.
Only the truth.
Grant nodded.
“I can't change that night.”
“No.”
“But I can stop making excuses for it.”
Claire crossed her arms.
“What do you want from me, Grant?”
He thought carefully.
“I want to be their father.”
“You already are.”
“I want to be a father who actually earns that word.”
Claire looked toward the bassinets.
“And us?”
He swallowed.
“I still love you.”
Tears filled her eyes again.
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Grant remembered the letter.
Love is what you do.
He looked directly at her.
“I want my marriage. I want you. But I know wanting something doesn't mean I'm entitled to have it.”
Claire stared at him.
“I don't know whether I can ever trust you again.”
“I understand.”
“And I cannot come back to that house.”
“Then don't.”
She looked surprised.
Grant continued.
“You don't have to come back. Not for me. Not for the children. Not because people expect you to.”
He paused.
“I will make sure the twins have what they need. We'll arrange parenting time. I'll respect whatever boundaries we agree on.”
Claire studied his face.
“Even if I decide our marriage is over?”
The words almost brought him to his knees.
But he answered.
“Yes.”
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Claire said quietly, “I hope you mean that.”
“So do I.”
Their eyes met.
Grant realized something painful.
For years, Claire had trusted his promises.
Now even his sincerity frightened her.
Because she had learned that his promises could disappear the moment keeping them became inconvenient.
Sloane knocked gently.
“Time's up.”
Grant nodded.
He knelt beside the bassinets.
“Goodbye, Eli.”
He touched his son's tiny hand.
“Goodbye, Gracie.”
Grace opened her eyes for a moment.
Grant smiled.
“I'll see you soon.”
Then he stood.
Claire watched him walk toward the door.
“Grant?”
He turned immediately.
“Yes?”
She hesitated.
“Thank you for not making this harder.”
His throat tightened.
“You shouldn't have to thank me for that.”
“No,” she whispered. “I shouldn't.”
He left.
Outside, cold air struck his face.
For the first time in his life, Grant Mercer had spent ninety minutes with his children without checking his phone.
He had not negotiated a deal.
He had not answered a business call.
He had not made anyone afraid.
He had simply held his babies.
And it had been the most important ninety minutes of his life.
He was halfway to his car when Anton approached.
“Boss.”
Grant frowned.
“What?”
Anton held out a phone.
“You need to see this.”
A news article had appeared on a popular Chicago gossip website.
The headline read:
MERCER HEIRS DISAPPEAR AS SOURCES QUESTION NEW MOTHER'S EMOTIONAL STATE.
Below it was a photograph.
Claire.
Carrying one infant carrier while Tommy carried the other.
Leaving the mansion at one fifteen in the morning.
Grant stared at the image.
It had been taken inside his own home.
From a private security camera.
The article claimed Claire had become increasingly unstable after childbirth.
It quoted an unnamed family source saying she had removed the twins without consulting medical professionals.
Every detail was false or deliberately misleading.
Grant's hand tightened around the phone.
“Who released this?”
Anton looked grim.
“We believe Daniel Cross accessed the footage.”
Grant scrolled lower.
The article included a quote from a woman described as a close friend of the Mercer family.
Grant has done everything possible to support his wife during a difficult period.
Grant read it twice.
Then he saw the final line.
The source denied rumors of an extramarital relationship.
He looked toward Anton.
“Vanessa.”
Anton nodded.
“That's our suspicion.”
Grant stared at the photograph of Claire.
A woman who had begged him not to use his power against her.
A mother who had done everything she could to protect her newborn children.
Now her private life had become entertainment for strangers.
And the woman he'd betrayed her with was trying to make Claire look dangerous.
Grant handed the phone back.
“Call Katherine.”
“What do you want her to do?”
“Preserve everything. Identify who distributed that photograph. Coordinate with Claire's attorney. We need to protect the children's privacy.”
Anton nodded.
“And Vanessa?”
May you like
Grant's expression turned cold.
“She's about to learn that I won't protect her from the consequences of what she's done.”
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