Chapter 6 - The Apartment on West Seventy-Third
The blond woman's name was Vanessa Cole.
She was thirty-one.
She had worked as the director of guest relations at the Whitmore Grand for six years.
And according to the records Rebecca obtained from public property filings, a company controlled by Margaret Whitmore had purchased a luxury apartment on West Seventy-Third Street eleven months earlier.
Vanessa lived there.
Daniel had a key.
I learned all of this before breakfast.
Rebecca sat across from me in my father's study, showing me documents one by one.
I looked at the apartment photographs.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
A white marble kitchen.
A private terrace.
A nursery painted pale green.
I stopped scrolling.
“Why is there a nursery?”
Rebecca looked at the picture.
“We don't know.”
I enlarged the photograph.
A white crib stood against the far wall.
Above it hung a wooden sign.
Welcome Home, Little One.
My stomach turned.
“Was she pregnant?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“There's no evidence of that.”
“Then why would they have a nursery?”
She didn't answer.
I thought about Daniel's refusal to look at Sophie.
The ten-thousand-dollar check.
Margaret's insistence that my daughter was unwanted.
Then I remembered a conversation from three months earlier.
Daniel had been sitting in bed, scrolling through his phone.
I'd asked whether he wanted to take parenting classes together.
He'd laughed.
“Of course.”
Then he'd added, “Mom says we should keep our options open about childcare.”
I'd thought he meant hiring a nanny.
Now I wasn't sure.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes?”
“Do they want Sophie?”
She looked at me carefully.
“It's possible they're planning a custody strategy.”
I swallowed.
“Why would Margaret call Sophie unwanted if she wants her?”
Rebecca studied the photograph.
“Because wanting control over a child isn't the same as wanting to care for one.”
I stared at the nursery.
An awful thought began forming.
“What if they want me gone but not Sophie?”
Rebecca's face tightened.
“We won't assume that without evidence.”
“But we won't ignore it either.”
At ten the next morning, Daniel appeared at my father's front gate.
He drove the silver Mercedes I'd bought him for our second anniversary.
The irony was almost funny.
He called me six times before I answered.
“I'm outside.”
“I know.”
“We need to talk.”
“You had three weeks to talk to me.”
“Emily, please.”
I stood beside the nursery window.
Below me, Marcus was speaking to Daniel through the gate's intercom.
“What do you want?”
“I want to see Sophie.”
“Have your attorney contact Rebecca.”
He went silent.
Then he said, “You hired a lawyer against me?”
“Your mother hired one first.”
“That's not fair.”
“You keep using that word.”
His voice sharpened.
“I am her father.”
“Then why did you try to buy us out of your life?”
“I was angry.”
“At a baby?”
“At you.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought you were stealing from me.”
“You know those papers were fake.”
He didn't answer.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Did you know?”
Silence.
“Did you know your mother forged those documents?”
“I didn't know everything.”
I felt my heart stop.
It wasn't a denial.
“What did you know?”
“Emily, this is complicated.”
“No.”
“It isn't.”
“You either knew I was being framed or you didn't.”
He spoke so quietly I almost missed it.
“I knew Mom was preparing documents.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What documents?”
“Financial paperwork.”
“For what?”
“I didn't ask.”
I laughed.
“You didn't ask?”
“I trusted her.”
“You trusted her enough to accuse your wife of stealing twenty-eight thousand dollars?”
“Emily—”
“Did you know that money was in her account?”
He went silent.
I closed my eyes.
“Daniel, answer me.”
“Yes.”
The word struck like a physical blow.
“You knew?”
“I knew where the money went.”
I stared through the window at him.
He stood beside his car, looking up at the house.
“You accused me anyway.”
“I thought it would make you leave quietly.”
My legs weakened.
There it was.
Not a misunderstanding.
Not an emotional reaction.
A plan.
“Why?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Mom said it was temporary.”
“What was temporary?”
“Our separation.”
I almost laughed.
“You offered me ten thousand dollars to abandon our marriage, and you thought it was temporary?”
“She said you needed to be away while some business issues were resolved.”
“Why?”
“Because your name complicated things.”
I felt sick.
“What things?”
“Ownership records.”
“Trust documents.”
“Emily, I don't understand half of it.”
“Then why did you help her?”
He looked away.
“Because I owe her.”
“How much?”
He didn't answer.
“Daniel.”
“More than I can pay.”
I stared at him.
I remembered the late nights.
The hidden statements.
The excuses about hotel expansion costs.
He had told me business was difficult.
I had believed him.
“Gambling?” I asked.
His head dropped.
That was answer enough.
“How much?”
“About three million.”
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
“Three million dollars?”
“I was trying to fix it.”
“With what?”
“I invested in a private development.”
“And lost everything.”
He didn't deny it.
“Mom covered the debt.”
I stared at him.
“And in exchange?”
He closed his eyes.
“Daniel.”
“Tell me.”
“She wanted me to marry you.”
The world seemed to go silent.
Sophie made a small noise from her crib.
I turned toward her.
My daughter looked up at the mobile above her, fascinated by the little wooden stars.
She had no idea her father had just confessed that our marriage began as payment on a debt.
I looked back through the window.
“Did you ever love me?”
Daniel's face twisted.
“Yes.”
I felt tears filling my eyes.
“Then why did you do this?”
“Because by the time I realized what Mom wanted, I did love you.”
“That doesn't make it better.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
I watched him grip his phone.
“You don't know what it feels like to remember every good moment of your marriage and wonder which ones were purchased.”
His eyes filled.
“Emily, I'm sorry.”
“Does Vanessa know?”
He stopped moving.
I saw it.
A complete change in his expression.
“Who?”
“Vanessa Cole.”
“Emily—”
“Does she know you married me to repay a debt?”
He looked toward the gate.
“Leave her out of this.”
I laughed through my tears.
“You put her in our marriage.”
“That's not fair.”
“Stop saying that.”
I wiped my face.
“Who paid for her apartment?”
He remained silent.
“Was it your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked up at the window.
“Emily, you need to stay away from Vanessa.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because she isn't who you think she is.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked frightened now.
More frightened than he'd been when my father confronted him at the hotel.
“Just promise me you won't go there.”
“Daniel.”
“Please.”
“Who is she?”
His voice broke.
“My mother told me she was helping us.”
“Helping us do what?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
Then he whispered, “Replace you.”
Before I could answer, another call appeared on my screen.
Rebecca.
I switched lines.
“Emily,” she said immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Upstairs.”
“Stay there.”
“Why?”
“Someone just attempted to enter the nursery through the service entrance.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Security stopped her.”
“Who?”
Rebecca took a breath.
“A woman carrying a forged hospital authorization.”
My heart hammered.
“What woman?”
“Vanessa Cole.”
I looked down through the window.
Daniel had begun running toward the house.
And for the first time, he wasn't trying to reach me.
May you like
He was screaming at someone I couldn't see.
“Vanessa, don't!”
