Chapter 4 - The First Time He Held His Son
Vincent arrived in under twenty minutes.
Claire hated how relieved she felt.
He entered Molly’s house with Marcus and two security officers.
Molly glared.
“This isn't a fortress.”
“No,” Vincent replied. “It's a target.”
Claire carried Noah downstairs.
Vincent froze.
The child was wearing a blue onesie with tiny stars.
His hair was nearly white-blond.
His eyes were pale.
Vincent couldn't breathe.
Claire noticed.
“He has your eyes.”
Vincent looked at her.
“I can see that.”
Noah reached toward him.
Claire hesitated.
Then, slowly, she placed the baby into Vincent's arms.
Vincent's hands were enormous around the tiny body.
He looked terrified.
The man who had built businesses under pressure, who had stared down armed men, was afraid to move because his infant son had blinked at him.
“Noah,” he whispered.
The baby grabbed his collar.
Vincent laughed softly.
A real laugh.
Claire turned away.
She didn't want him to see her cry.
Eleanor was next.
She had a little pink blanket wrapped around her.
Vincent held her against his chest.
Her tiny fingers curled around his thumb.
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“She has a small mark on her cheek.”
“Birthmark.”
He nodded.
He looked at Claire.
“Did you name them?”
“Yes.”
“Why Moretti?”
Claire's eyes flickered.
“Because they're yours.”
Vincent looked down.
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Then Noah began to fuss.
Vincent panicked.
Claire laughed despite herself.
“You're holding him too stiffly.”
“I don't know what I'm doing.”
“You're his father.”
“That doesn't automatically teach me.”
Claire stepped closer.
“Relax your arm.”
He adjusted.
Noah settled.
Vincent stared at him.
“I missed ten months.”
Claire nodded.
“Yes.”
“I can't change that.”
“No.”
“But I want every month after this.”
Her expression softened.
“We'll see.”
That afternoon, Vincent told Claire everything about the affair with Celeste.
He did not minimize it.
“I was with her,” he said.
Claire stared at him.
“Yes.”
“I betrayed you.”
“Yes.”
“I won't blame Gerald for that.”
She looked surprised.
“Good.”
“He manipulated what happened after you left. He did not force me into that room.”
Claire looked down.
“I needed to hear you say that.”
Vincent nodded.
“You deserved better.”
“I did.”
“I don't expect you to take me back.”
She looked at him.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I want my children safe.”
“And?”
Vincent took a breath.
“And because I still love you.”
Claire looked away.
She had feared those words.
She had secretly hoped for them.
Both truths could exist.
Over the next several days, Vincent moved security around the townhouse.
He transferred no money to Claire without permission.
He gave her no orders.
Instead he asked.
Would she allow a security driver?
Would she allow cameras?
Would she want a lawyer?
Claire noticed.
For the first time, Vincent was asking instead of deciding.
Celeste disappeared.
Three days later, she called Claire directly.
Claire almost ignored it.
Then she answered.
“Hello?”
Celeste's voice sounded different.
“I'm sorry.”
Claire was silent.
“I know that doesn't fix anything.”
“No.”
“I shouldn't have laughed at you.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“You laughed because you thought you'd won.”
“I did.”
“And now?”
“I realize there was never anything to win.”
Claire said nothing.
Celeste continued.
“Gerald used me.”
“You still chose to stay.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked toward the nursery.
“Then you live with that.”
Celeste cried quietly.
“I will.”
The call ended.
But Claire did not realize Celeste had also sent something.
A file.
Inside was a photograph of Gerald meeting Richard Vane six months earlier.
And another.
Gerald handing a folder to a man outside a neonatal clinic.
Claire enlarged the picture.
Her blood ran cold.
“That building…”
Vincent entered.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward him.
“That's where I delivered the twins.”
Vincent stared at the image.
The man beside Gerald was not Richard Vane.
He recognized him.
Assistant District Attorney Thomas Reed.
A man who had publicly praised Vincent's company for years.
Vincent's expression changed.
Marcus walked closer.
“That's impossible.”
“No,” Vincent said.
His eyes remained on the image.
“It's possible.”
The circle was getting larger.
Someone inside law enforcement had been helping Vane.
And someone had known exactly where Claire gave birth.
That evening, Claire woke to a sound outside.
A car door.
She sat upright.
The house was dark.
Then she heard glass break downstairs.
She ran toward the nursery.
Vincent was already there.
He had been sleeping in the guest room.
A shadow moved outside the window.
Vincent pushed Claire behind him.
“Take the children.”
“What about you?”
“Go.”
The window shattered.
Vincent grabbed Claire and pulled her into the hallway as something struck the wall.
Security officers rushed upstairs.
The attacker disappeared into the dark yard.
No one was injured.
But on the nursery floor, Vincent found a folded piece of paper.
One sentence.
THE CHILDREN ARE NOT YOURS TO KEEP.
Vincent's jaw tightened.
Claire read it.
“They're escalating.”
“Yes.”
“What do we do?”
May you like
Vincent looked at her.
“We stop running.”
