Chapter 5: The Woman Who Wanted My Daughter
I didn't go home.
Instead, Owen drove Natalie and me to his attorney's office.
He insisted we avoid using our own vehicles because he suspected Damon might be tracking them.
I sat in the back seat with my hand resting over my stomach.
Every few minutes, I checked my phone.
Damon had sent seven messages.
Claire had sent four.
Neither had received a response.
Finally, Natalie took my phone from my hand.
“Stop reading them.””
“I need to know what they're doing.””
“No, Emily. You need to think about what they're trying to make you do.””
She squeezed my fingers.
“You've spent twelve years trusting Claire. You're not going to understand everything in one afternoon.””
I looked out the window.
“What if they've been planning this since before I met Damon?””
Natalie didn't answer.
Because neither of us wanted to consider that possibility.
Owen's attorney was named Margaret Lewis.
She was a sharp-eyed woman in her late fifties with silver hair and a habit of reading documents without looking up.
She listened to everything.
The closet.
The notebook.
The money.
The trust.
The hospital records.
When I finished, she closed the folder.
“Mrs. Carter, I'm going to ask you something. Please answer honestly.””
“Okay.””
“Have you ever signed an agreement giving Claire Whitmore temporary custody of your child?””
“No.””
“Have you ever signed a document authorizing your husband to make medical decisions on your behalf?””
“No.””
“Have you ever been diagnosed with a pregnancy-related psychiatric disorder?””
“No.””
Margaret nodded.
“Good. We have grounds to challenge the documents.””
Owen leaned forward.
“Can we stop the transfer?””
“Yes, but we need to act quickly.””
She turned toward me.
“Your husband's filing claims that you are medically incapable of managing your affairs. If the court accepts that claim temporarily, he may gain access to certain financial decisions.””
“What about my daughter?””
Margaret's expression hardened.
“That is the more serious issue. The proposed custodial agreement could be used to support an emergency petition after delivery.””
I felt my throat close.
“Could they take her?””
“Not automatically. But they could create a legal battle that would be extremely difficult for you while recovering from childbirth.””
Natalie slammed her palm against the table.
“They planned this!””
Margaret remained calm.
“Then we need proof.””
Owen opened his briefcase.
“I have the original payment records and the forged agreement.””
“That's useful,” Margaret said.
“But we need to establish who created them.””
I remembered the notebook.
“Damon had a black notebook in his bedroom. It listed my appointments and payments.””
Margaret looked at me.
“Do you still have it?””
“No. He took it.””
“Can you get it?””
I shook my head.
“I won't go near that house.””
Owen leaned back.
“Claire has a duplicate.””
Everyone looked at him.
“How do you know?”” I asked.
“Because I found a second notebook in her desk.””
He removed a photograph from his briefcase.
It showed an open drawer.
Inside was another black notebook.
But something about the photograph bothered me.
The notebook was next to a framed picture of Claire and Owen.
The picture had been taken at their engagement party.
I remembered that evening.
Claire had worn a white dress and cried when Owen proposed.
I had stood beside her, holding her bouquet.
She had whispered, “You're going to be my daughter's favorite aunt.””
I had laughed.
Now I wondered whether she had already been planning to become something else.
“Why didn't you confront her?”” I asked.
Owen looked away.
“Because I found something worse.””
He handed Margaret another document.
It was a copy of a life insurance policy.
The insured person was me.
The beneficiary was Damon Carter.
The policy had been opened six months earlier.
The coverage amount was $3 million.
My hands went numb.
“Damon took out life insurance on me?””
Owen nodded.
“Without telling you.””
Margaret examined the signature.
“This appears to be forged.””
I stared at the page.
“Why would he need three million dollars?””
Owen answered quietly.
“Because your father's trust is worth considerably more.””
I felt sick.
“How much?””
Margaret closed the file.
“Approximately eighteen million dollars, including the assets that have accumulated since your father's death.””
Natalie whispered a curse.
I looked at Owen.
“And what does Claire get?””
He didn't answer.
I asked again.
“What does she get?””
Owen finally spoke.
“She was promised a share of the estate.””
“How much?””
“Two million.””
I stared at him.
“And you?””
“Nothing.””
“Then why would she do this?””
Owen's jaw tightened.
“Because she believes Damon promised her a future with him.””
The words landed like a slap.
I looked down.
“She wants my husband?””
Owen gave a bitter laugh.
“I don't think she ever wanted him the way you mean. I think she wanted what he could give her.””
He paused.
“But I don't believe Damon ever intended to leave you.””
I looked up.
“What?””
“Claire thinks she's going to replace you. But Damon has been making plans that don't include her, either.””
Margaret closed her folder.
“That's enough speculation. We need evidence.””
She stood and walked to her desk.
“I'll file an emergency objection to the trust transfer. I'll also send a preservation notice to the clinic demanding that the original medical records be protected.””
I nodded.
“Can you prove the diagnosis is fake?””
“We can request the original examination notes and identify who entered it.””
My phone rang.
The hospital.
I answered immediately.
“Hello?””
“Mrs. Carter, this is Susan from the maternity department. We need you to confirm an appointment scheduled for tomorrow.””
“What appointment?””
“A psychiatric assessment.””
My blood ran cold.
“I didn't schedule one.””
The woman hesitated.
“Your husband called yesterday. He said you had been experiencing severe emotional distress and requested an urgent evaluation.””
“I never agreed to that.””
“I understand. However, the appointment is listed as mandatory under your care plan.””
“Who authorized it?””
“Dr. Rebecca Miles.””
I looked at Margaret.
She immediately wrote the name down.
“Can you cancel it?””
“I'll need to speak with the supervising physician.””
“Please do.””
The woman lowered her voice.
“Mrs. Carter, I should tell you something. Your husband and a woman named Claire visited the department last week.””
My grip tightened.
“What did they do?””
“They requested a copy of your prenatal file.””
“Were they given one?””
“I wasn't involved in that decision.””
“Did they get it?””
Silence.
Then she said, “I think you should speak with your attorney before coming back here.””
The call ended.
Margaret stood.
“We're changing your medical provider immediately.””
But before she could say anything else, my phone rang again.
This time, it was Claire.
I answered.
“Hello?””
Her voice sounded soft and wounded.
“Emily, thank God.””
I said nothing.
“Where are you?””
“Why?””
“Because I'm worried about you.””
I almost laughed.
“That's new.””
She sighed.
“Listen, I know you're upset about Damon and me. But you need to understand something.””
“What?””
“I didn't mean for you to find out like that.””
I looked at Owen.
He closed his eyes.
“Find out about what, Claire?””
“The affair.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“You admit it?””
“Emily, please don't make this ugly.””
“Ugly? You were hiding in my closet.””
She started crying.
“I love you. I never wanted to hurt you.””
“Then why did you sleep with my husband?””
There was a long pause.
Then her voice changed.
“I didn't steal Damon from you.””
I gripped the phone.
“What?””
“He was never really yours.””
I felt something inside me break.
Claire continued.
“Damon and I were together before you met him. Your father knew about our relationship. He was the one who arranged everything.””
I couldn't breathe.
“You're lying.””
“Ask Damon.””
“Why would my father arrange my marriage?””
“Because he needed someone to protect the money.””
I looked at Margaret.
She was listening carefully.
Claire lowered her voice.
“Emily, I wanted to tell you in person. But you've made everything so complicated.””
“What's complicated?””
“The baby.””
I pressed my hand against my stomach.
“What about her?””
Claire took a breath.
“I've already prepared a nursery.””
I stared at the wall.
“What?””
“Pink walls. White furniture. The little moon-shaped lamp you showed me last year.””
My blood turned to ice.
“You went into my house and planned a nursery for my daughter?””
“I've been planning it for months.””
“Why?””
Claire's next words were almost cheerful.
“Because I was supposed to raise her.””
I couldn't speak.
“You're not taking my baby.””
“Emily, please. Don't be dramatic.””
“She's my daughter.””
Claire sighed.
“Not according to the agreement.””
I heard a click.
Then a notification appeared on my screen.
A photograph.
It showed a hospital room.
A newborn baby lay in a clear plastic bassinet.
The picture was several years old.
But the baby wore a small bracelet with a familiar surname.
Whitmore.
Underneath the photograph, Claire had written:
*You should ask Owen why his family has been preparing for your daughter's arrival for years.*
I looked at Owen.
He had gone completely pale.
“What's that?”” Natalie asked.
I showed him the photograph.
His hands began trembling.
Then he whispered:
“That's impossible.””
“Why?””
He stared at the bracelet.
“Because that's my sister's baby.””
I frowned.
“Your sister?””
Owen swallowed.
“My sister died seven years ago.””
He turned the phone toward Margaret.
“Emily, that photograph was taken after her daughter was born.””
I felt my blood run cold.
“What happened to the baby?””
Owen looked directly at me.
“She was adopted.””
“By whom?””
He closed his eyes.
May you like
Then he said the name.
“Claire.””
