Chapter 7
I stared at Ryan.
“That is impossible.”
“I know.”
“I never signed anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why was my name on it?”
Ryan shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
My voice rose.
“You expect me to believe you signed a document about me without reading it?”
“I had a gun pointed at me.”
“And before the gun?”
He stopped.
Exactly.
There was always a before.
A moment when Ryan still had a choice.
A moment when he chose silence.
A moment when he chose Diane.
“I need to see those papers.”
“The police have copies.”
“Then leave.”
“Claire—”
“Now.”
He walked out.
I called Detective Morales.
Within an hour, an investigator brought copies.
The document looked official.
That was what scared me.
It had my full legal name.
My address.
My date of birth.
Emma’s expected due date.
It claimed that I had agreed to allow Ryan full custody after birth.
Another page said I intended to relocate out of state.
A third said I had experienced “episodes of emotional instability.”
I stared at the words.
“They built a case against me.”
The investigator nodded.
“It appears someone was preparing to.”
“Look at the signature.”
At the bottom was my name.
It looked almost perfect.
Almost.
But I knew how I signed.
The curve on the C was wrong.
“That is forged.”
“We believe so.”
“Who did it?”
“We are investigating.”
I already knew.
Diane.
Or someone working for her.
“Could this actually have taken Emma away from me?”
“Not by itself.”
“By itself?”
“It could have been used as part of a larger attempt to create a false record.”
I thought about every argument Diane had provoked.
Every time she recorded me on her phone.
Every text she sent that made me furious.
Every time Ryan told me to calm down instead of defending me.
My stomach turned.
“Was Ryan helping her document me?”
“We don’t know.”
I did.
Maybe he did not understand the full plan.
But he participated.
He had been there.
The investigator continued.
“There is another issue.”
I almost laughed.
“There is always another issue.”
“The notary stamp.”
I looked at the paper.
“What about it?”
“It belongs to someone who works at your husband’s office.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who?”
“Melissa Grant.”
I knew the name.
Ryan’s assistant.
She had come to our house twice.
She had brought us a baby gift.
A tiny blanket with Emma embroidered on it.
I suddenly felt sick.
“Did she notarize my forged signature?”
“That is what the document indicates.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“She is not answering her phone.”
Of course she wasn’t.
I called Ryan.
I hated myself for doing it.
He answered immediately.
“Claire?”
“Who is Melissa Grant?”
Silence.
My pulse jumped.
“Ryan.”
“She works with me.”
“I know that.”
“What are you asking?”
“The custody papers have her notary stamp.”
Ryan stopped speaking.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know about your mother’s plan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Were you sleeping with her?”
“What?”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
The answer came fast.
Too fast.
Then he whispered, “Not exactly.”
I closed my eyes.
Rachel, sitting beside me, mouthed, What?
I held up a hand.
“What does not exactly mean?”
Ryan breathed out.
“We kissed.”
The room became very quiet.
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
I was six months pregnant.
“Where?”
“At work.”
“How many times?”
“Claire—”
“How many?”
“Twice.”
“Did you want to sleep with her?”
Silence.
That was the answer.
I felt something inside me die.
Maybe it was the last piece of my marriage I had not buried yet.
“Did your mother know?”
“Yes.”
I laughed softly.
“Of course.”
“Nothing else happened.”
“Stop.”
“I ended it.”
“Stop.”
“I was confused.”
“You were not confused.”
He went silent.
“You were dishonest.”
“Yes.”
“You were weak.”
“Yes.”
“You were cruel.”
“Yes.”
I could hear him crying again.
It did not move me anymore.
“Did Melissa know about the forged documents?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she ever mention custody?”
“No.”
“Did she ever sign papers for your mother?”
Ryan hesitated.
“Once.”
My heart thudded.
“What papers?”
“Mom said they were related to the trust.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
The same time Michael overheard the plan.
“What did Melissa say?”
“She asked why Mom needed her stamp.”
“And?”
“I told her Mom was handling family estate documents.”
“You told her.”
“Yes.”
“So you helped.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You never know, Ryan.”
He went silent.
“You never know because you never ask the question that might force you to do the right thing.”
I hung up.
Rachel stared at me.
“He cheated?”
“He kissed his assistant.”
“While you were pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Rachel stood so fast the chair almost fell.
“I’m going to prison.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
A real laugh.
It lasted three seconds.
Then I cried.
Rachel hugged me carefully.
“I am so sorry.”
“I feel stupid.”
“Don’t.”
“I lived with him.”
“People can hide whole lives inside normal days.”
I thought about that sentence for hours.
That afternoon, police found Diane.
She and Thomas were stopped at a private airfield outside Milwaukee.
They had luggage.
Cash.
Two passports each.
And copies of the company’s financial records.
Diane was arrested.
Thomas was arrested.
The news should have made me feel safer.
Instead, I felt numb.
Michael came to the hospital after speaking with federal investigators.
He looked destroyed.
“Thomas has been charged.”
“And Diane?”
“Several charges are pending.”
“Will she get bail?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will she be allowed near me?”
“No. Your attorney can request an emergency protection order. Police also recommended it.”
My attorney.
I did not have one.
Michael noticed my expression.
“I called someone.”
I looked at him sharply.
“No.”
“Claire, listen.”
“I do not want your family choosing my lawyer.”
“She is not our family lawyer.”
“Who is she?”
“Laura Bennett.”
I knew that name.
Everyone in Chicago knew that name.
She was a high-profile family attorney who represented athletes, executives, and people far richer than me.
“I cannot afford Laura Bennett.”
“She has agreed to meet you.”
“Who is paying?”
“I offered.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No money from you.”
He looked hurt.
“That money is not clean to me.”
He nodded slowly.
“I understand.”
A voice came from the doorway.
“You don’t need his money.”
A woman in a navy suit walked in.
She looked about fifty.
Confident.
Calm.
Sharp.
“Claire Walker?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Laura Bennett.”
I glanced at Michael.
She continued.
“Your sister called my office.”
I turned toward Rachel.
Rachel shrugged.
“I know people who know people.”
Laura almost smiled.
“I reviewed the basic facts. I’ll take your case.”
“I really cannot afford you.”
“You can.”
“How?”
“Because I also represent victims in civil matters, and there are several possible claims here.”
I stared at her.
“Against Diane?”
“Possibly Diane. Possibly others.”
Her eyes moved toward Michael.
He understood.
“I’ll leave.”
After he was gone, Laura sat down.
“I need you to understand something immediately.”
“What?”
“Your husband’s family has money.”
“I found that out.”
“Money can buy excellent lawyers.”
My chest tightened.
“But it cannot erase hospital records, video evidence, police reports, forged documents, or witnesses.”
I took a slow breath.
“What should I do?”
“Do not speak privately with Diane, Thomas, Melissa, or anyone representing them.”
“Okay.”
“Do not delete messages.”
“Okay.”
“Do not post about this publicly.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
“What about Ryan?”
Laura studied me.
“That depends on what you want.”
“A divorce.”
She nodded.
“And Emma?”
I looked toward the NICU.
“I want her safe.”
“That is the right answer.”
“Can Ryan take her from me?”
“Not tonight.”
“But later?”
“A court will decide custody based on evidence and the child’s best interests.”
I hated uncertainty.
Laura saw it.
“We have strong facts.”
“Ryan says he didn’t know the whole plan.”
“That may matter criminally. It does not erase what he did in your marriage.”
I nodded.
Then she placed a document on the table.
“This was filed electronically this morning.”
I stared at it.
“What is it?”
“A petition.”
“For what?”
Laura’s face hardened.
“Emergency custody.”
I stopped breathing.
“Who filed it?”
“Ryan.”
The room spun.
“That is impossible. He was here.”
“The filing came through his attorney.”
“What does it say?”
Laura looked directly at me.
“It claims your hospitalization makes you temporarily incapable of caring for Emma.”
I felt rage rise through the pain.
“He did this after begging me not to take her.”
Laura turned the page.
“There’s more.”
I read the final paragraph.
Then I understood why Laura looked so angry.
May you like
The petition requested that, once Emma was discharged, temporary physical custody be given not to Ryan.
But to Diane.
