Chapter 5 - HE WAS STANDING OUTSIDEClaire stumbled away from Ryan.
Her expression transformed into terror.
“Daniel, thank God.”
Ryan stared at her.
“What are you doing?”
“He forced his way in,” she cried. “I didn’t know how to make him leave.”
Ryan’s mouth fell open.
“That’s a lie.”
Claire moved toward me.
“He threatened me.”
I stepped back before she could touch me.
The movement stopped her.
For the first time, she understood that I was not going to rescue her from the scene she had created.
“I heard everything,” I said.
“You heard part of a conversation.”
“I heard him call the baby his.”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
She had always been able to cry quickly.
During our marriage, I had mistaken that ability for emotional honesty.
Now I watched the tears form without changing the muscles around her eyes.
They were real tears.
The fear behind them was not.
“Ryan became obsessed with me,” she said.
“Stop,” Ryan snapped. “You called me tonight.”
Claire ignored him.
“He believes the baby is his because I let him believe it.”
The words struck both of us.
Ryan stepped forward.
“You showed me a paternity report.”
“I showed you what I needed to show you.”
His face tightened.
I looked from him to Claire.
“Where is that report?”
Neither answered.
“Where is it?”
Ryan pointed toward Claire’s bedside cabinet.
She blocked his path.
“Don’t.”
That single word told me the report existed.
I entered the bedroom.
The room smelled of Claire’s perfume and Ryan’s cologne.
Our wedding photograph still stood on the table beside the bed.
I opened the top drawer.
Vitamins.
Prescription receipts.
A velvet jewelry case.
Nothing else.
Ryan crossed the room and pulled open the lower drawer.
Claire grabbed his wrist.
He pushed her hand away.
Not violently.
But enough to make her recoil.
“You told me Daniel was sterile,” he said.
I looked at Claire.
She avoided my eyes.
Ryan removed a cream-colored folder from beneath a silk scarf.
My name was printed on the tab.
Inside was a prenatal laboratory report.
The page stated that the probability of Ryan Carter’s paternity was 99.8 percent.
My hands went cold.
Claire reached for it.
I held it away.
“Is this real?”
She said nothing.
Ryan answered for her.
“She told me you agreed to use a donor.”
I stared at him.
“And you believed her?”
“She had documents.”
“What documents?”
“Medical records. Your signature.”
I turned toward Claire.
Her tears had stopped.
The woman standing before me was no longer frightened.
She was calculating.
Watching.
Deciding which lie still had a chance.
Then I noticed a second paper beneath the paternity report.
A transfer authorization.
May you like
Five million dollars.
Approved in my name.
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