Part 4

She explained that we would need to file for divorce and request temporary orders from the family court. She couldn’t promise me that Garrett would never see his children, and I didn’t ask her to. What I wanted was to keep his money from becoming a weapon.

While she drafted the petition, I checked the bank reference. It matched a deposit description I had found three months earlier in our joint account: BEACON ADVANCE. Garrett had called it a travel expense reimbursement. Because the account was in both our names, I downloaded the full statement, with the date and amount: $11,000. It didn’t prove a crime by itself, but it demanded an explanation.

Then I looked up Beacon’s public business records. The majority owner was Kendra Mercer, the same woman who approved campaigns at Pacific Harbor Freight. The proposal, Garrett’s signature, and the transfer into our account formed a chain neither of them had disclosed in any paperwork I knew of.

That was the real twist. Kendra hadn’t just taken my place in Garrett’s life. The two of them appeared to have used their positions at my father’s company to profit together. This wasn’t about firing an unfaithful husband. It was about determining which services had actually been purchased, how much had been paid, and where the money went.

At 8:58, the receptionist called to say Garrett was insisting on coming up. I told her to let him through only when Dana and a hospital representative were present. I kept Harper close; Owen was resting in his bassinet.

Before the door opened, another text from him arrived.

I was told there were two births. Explain right now what you’re hiding.

For the first time since I had known him, Garrett realized he didn’t control all the information. And I listened to his footsteps coming down the hall with a terrible certainty: he was going to look at my children and try to choose one.

Garrett walked in wearing the same blazer as the day before. He saw the two bassinets and stopped cold. Then he spotted the blue bracelet on Owen’s wrist and walked straight toward him.

“Is it a boy?” he asked.

“His name is Owen,” I said. “And she’s Harper.”

He didn’t even glance at Harper. He leaned over Owen and smiled in disbelief. Then he turned on me.

“You hid it from me that I was having a son.”

“I tried to tell you at twenty-five weeks. You left for a flight, and then you stopped coming to my appointments.”