Chapter 3 - The Secret Behind Claire’s Silence
Claire did not sleep that night.
Neither did Molly.
The twins slept in shifts, and every small sound from the nursery made Claire’s heart race.
At 3:08 a.m., she finally opened the old laptop she had not touched in months.
She searched for messages from Vincent.
There were none.
She searched her archived email.
Nothing.
She searched spam.
Nothing.
She pulled out her old phone.
That one was almost dead.
She charged it.
Then she found something buried beneath thousands of medical alerts.
A message.
From Vincent.
Fourteen months earlier.
Claire's hands shook.
The timestamp was one day after she had left.
COME HOME. WE NEED TO TALK.
She stared at it.
Then another.
PLEASE ANSWER.
Another.
CLAIRE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. CALL ME.
Then one more.
I'M SORRY.
Her breath caught.
She had never seen any of them.
Molly stood behind her.
“What is it?”
Claire turned the screen.
Molly read.
“Oh my God.”
Claire started scrolling.
There were dozens.
All sent over the next three days.
Then suddenly none.
“What happened after that?” Molly asked.
“I don't know.”
Claire opened her phone account.
There was a transfer request.
Her number had been ported to another device.
She had never authorized it.
Molly stared.
“So someone hijacked your phone.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“Who?”
“We'll find out.”
But Claire already knew there was another question.
Why?
The next morning, Vincent drove to Queens without security.
Marcus protested.
Vincent ignored him.
He parked two blocks away.
He had no idea what he was going to say.
He had planned board meetings more complicated than this.
He had negotiated hostile takeovers with men who threatened his life.
But standing outside Molly’s house with his hands in his coat pockets, Vincent suddenly felt like the least important man in the world.
The door opened.
Molly stepped outside.
She closed it behind her.
“You have five minutes.”
Vincent stared at her.
“I need to see Claire.”
“Why?”
“I found out about the twins.”
“She knows.”
“Are they mine?”
Molly's expression hardened.
“You already know the answer.”
Vincent swallowed.
“Yes.”
“You don't deserve to meet them yet.”
“I know.”
That answer surprised her.
Vincent looked at the house.
“I don't want to take them.”
“Good.”
“I don't want to control Claire.”
“Good.”
“I just want a chance to become their father.”
Molly crossed her arms.
“Then start by telling the truth.”
Vincent looked down.
“I don't know the whole truth.”
“That’s because you never asked enough questions.”
Molly walked away.
Vincent remained by the sidewalk.
The front door opened again.
This time Claire stood there.
She wore a cream sweater and loose black pants.
Her hair was tied back.
She looked tired.
Beautiful.
Different.
Vincent had seen her a thousand times.
But he had never seen her like this.
She no longer looked as though she needed anything from him.
“Claire.”
She remained by the doorway.
“You found out.”
“Yes.”
“I didn't tell you.”
“I know.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw the communications that were hidden from me.”
Silence.
“What communications?”
“Emails. Hospital alerts. Messages.”
Claire went pale.
“You received nothing?”
“No.”
She looked at Molly.
Molly shook her head.
Claire stepped outside.
“Tell me.”
Vincent did.
All of it.
For twenty minutes they stood on the sidewalk while he explained what had been uncovered.
When he finished, Claire said quietly, “I thought you never cared.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I cared too late.”
Her eyes filled.
“I was carrying your children.”
“I know.”
“I spent eight months terrified.”
“I know.”
“I gave birth alone.”
His face broke for the first time.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire looked away.
“I don't need your apology.”
“I know.”
“I need you to understand that sorry doesn't give me back those nights.”
“I know.”
She looked at him again.
That was what frightened her.
He wasn't arguing.
He wasn't demanding.
He wasn't trying to convince her.
He was accepting.
“Can I see them?”
Claire hesitated.
“No.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
She added, “Not yet.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
She almost cried because she had expected anger.
Instead he simply said, “I'll wait.”
That afternoon, Gerald Pike was found in a hotel outside Atlantic City.
Marcus brought him to a private office.
Vincent sat behind the desk.
Gerald looked older than he had two weeks before.
“You know,” Vincent said.
Gerald stared.
“I know enough.”
“I can explain.”
“Start with Claire.”
Gerald said nothing.
“Start with the pregnancy.”
Finally, Gerald whispered, “Mr. Vane knew she was pregnant before you did.”
“How?”
“He had people monitoring your household.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed you were about to expose his smuggling operation.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“What does Claire have to do with that?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why target her?”
Gerald looked at the floor.
“Because she was your weakness.”
Vincent stood.
“Keep going.”
“Vane thought if you were distracted by a public affair, Claire would leave.”
Vincent said nothing.
“He didn't expect twins.”
A sick silence filled the room.
Gerald continued.
“Once Claire left, I intercepted every message.”
“Why?”
“I was paid.”
“By Vane?”
Gerald nodded.
“And Celeste?”
“Celeste was useful.”
Vincent's expression went flat.
“You told her Claire would disappear.”
“I told her Claire would leave permanently.”
“And the babies?”
Gerald looked genuinely afraid.
“I was ordered to make sure you never learned they existed.”
“Ordered by who?”
Gerald hesitated.
Vincent leaned forward.
“Who?”
“Vane.”
Vincent stared at him.
“Then why is Claire still alive?”
Gerald looked up sharply.
“Because the order changed.”
Something cold moved through Vincent.
“What order?”
Gerald whispered:
“They wanted the children.”
Vincent's entire body went still.
“They wanted my children?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Gerald closed his eyes.
“Because your inheritance structure changes if you have legitimate heirs.”
That night, Vincent sat alone in his office reading every legal document involving Moretti Holdings.
His father had died years earlier.
Vincent had inherited the company.
But there was a clause.
If Vincent had no legal heirs, voting control could eventually shift to a trust overseen by several investors.
With two children, that structure changed completely.
Richard Vane had not simply wanted Vincent's company.
He had wanted control of the company through the children.
The next morning, Claire received a package.
Inside was a tiny stuffed bear.
And a note.
YOU CAN'T PROTECT THEM FOREVER.
Claire's hands trembled.
She called Vincent.
He answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“They know where we are.”
“I know.”
“What do you mean, you know?”
“I've been watching the area.”
She closed her eyes.
For the first time in fourteen months, she allowed herself to admit something.
She did not want to face this alone.
“Vincent.”
“Yes?”
“I need help.”
May you like
His answer came without hesitation.
“I'm coming.”
