PART 2
Caleb’s father stood behind him.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
The only sound in the hallway was Elodie crying from the bedroom and water dripping from the ends of my hair onto the floor.
Robert Mercer looked from me to his son.
Then his eyes shifted toward the bathroom.
The digital timer was still beeping.
Four minutes had expired.
The water had been cut off.
And apparently, for the first time, someone besides me could see exactly how absurd my life had become.
Robert slowly stepped past Caleb.
“What is that noise?”
Caleb glanced toward the bathroom.
“It’s nothing.”
Robert walked inside.
A few seconds later, the timer stopped.
He came back holding the small digital device in one hand.
His expression had changed.
“What is this?”
Caleb sighed like his father was asking him to explain something painfully obvious.
“A timer.”
“I can see that.”
Robert looked at the strip of tape still attached to its back.
“Why was it taped beside the shower?”
Caleb rubbed his forehead.
“Dad, seriously, it’s not a big deal.”
Robert looked at me.
I suddenly became painfully aware of how ridiculous I must have looked standing there in my robe with shampoo residue still clinging to the back of my neck.
He noticed.
“Tessa,” he said quietly, “why is your hair still covered in soap?”
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
I had spent weeks defending Caleb in my own mind.
He was tired.
Work was stressful.
The baby cried a lot.
Money mattered.
Maybe I really did need to move faster.
Maybe I was being sensitive because I hadn’t slept properly in six weeks.
But standing in front of Robert, I couldn’t make any of those excuses sound reasonable.
Caleb answered for me.
“She ran out of time.”
Robert turned slowly.
“What does that mean?”
Caleb crossed his arms.
“It means she gets four minutes.”
Robert stared at him.
“For what?”
“A shower.”
I watched Robert’s expression go completely still.
Not angry.
Not yet.
Just still.
“What happens after four minutes?”
Caleb hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“I turn off the water.”
Robert looked at me again.
I wished I could disappear.
Instead, I pulled my robe tighter.
“He shuts it off at the main valve,” I said quietly.
Robert’s eyes narrowed.
“How often?”
I could feel Caleb staring at me.
“Most mornings.”
“Tessa.”
Robert’s voice softened.
“How often?”
“Every morning lately.”
The silence that followed was worse than yelling.
Caleb stepped forward.
“Dad, you’re making this sound insane.”
Robert looked at him.
“You are making it sound insane all by yourself.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened.
“The water bill went up after the baby was born. Everything went up. Electricity. Laundry. Groceries. Diapers. She’s home all day. I’m trying to keep some structure.”
Robert glanced toward the bedroom where Elodie was still crying.
“Structure?”
“Yes.”
“You are rationing showers to the woman caring for your six-week-old daughter.”
“It’s not rationing.”
“What would you call it?”
Caleb said nothing.
Robert held up the timer.
“Four minutes.”
“She doesn’t need twenty.”
“I never take twenty,” I said.
Caleb shot me a look.
“That isn’t the point.”
“No,” Robert said.
“It absolutely is.”
Caleb exhaled sharply.
“You don’t live here.”
“No. I don’t.”
Robert placed the timer on the hallway table.
“But your wife apparently barely does either.”
That silenced everyone.
Elodie cried again.
I instinctively turned toward the bedroom.
Robert stopped me gently.
“Stay.”
Then he looked at Caleb.
“Pick up your daughter.”
Caleb frowned.
“She wants Tessa.”
“Pick. Up. Your. Daughter.”
Something in Robert’s voice changed.
Caleb went into the bedroom.
A moment later, he came back carrying Elodie awkwardly against his chest.
She continued crying.
Caleb bounced her once.
Twice.
“This is what happens,” he said. “She doesn’t settle for me.”
Robert stared at him.
“She doesn’t know you.”
Caleb looked offended.
“What?”
“She knows your voice. Maybe your smell. Maybe your face.”
Robert stepped closer.
“But she doesn’t know you the way she knows her mother because every time she cries, you hand her back.”
Caleb looked toward me.
“She feeds her.”
“She also holds her.”
Robert’s voice remained calm.
“Changes her. Rocks her. Walks with her. Gets up with her. Learns her sounds. Learns what each cry means.”
“That’s because I’m working.”
“And what do you think Tessa is doing?”
Caleb didn’t answer.
Robert turned toward me.
“Go rinse your hair.”
I glanced at Caleb.
Robert noticed.
That seemed to anger him more than anything else.
“You do not need to ask permission.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You looked at him.”
Heat rushed into my face.
Robert’s expression softened.
“Go.”
I returned to the bathroom.
The shower still wouldn’t run.
Of course it wouldn’t.
Caleb had shut off the valve.
Before I could say anything, Robert walked into the utility room.
Thirty seconds later, the water returned.
Hot.
Steady.
Normal.
I stepped beneath it.
I expected relief.
Instead, I cried.
Not loudly.
Just quietly enough that I hoped neither of them could hear.
I rinsed the shampoo from my hair.
Conditioner.
Soap.
For the first time in weeks, I didn’t look at a clock.
I didn’t count seconds.
I didn’t imagine footsteps coming toward the bathroom.
I simply stood there under warm water and realized how exhausted I was.
When I came out fifteen minutes later, the house was silent.
Elodie had stopped crying.
I found Robert in the living room.
He was holding her.
Caleb stood near the window.
Elodie’s cheek rested against Robert’s shoulder.
His large hand supported the back of her tiny head.
“She was hungry?” I asked.
“No,” Robert said.
“She just needed someone willing to walk around with her for ten minutes.”
Caleb’s expression tightened.
Robert sat down.
“Come here.”
I hesitated.
He nodded toward the chair across from him.
I sat.
Caleb remained standing.
Robert looked at his son.
“You too.”
“I have a meeting.”
“Cancel it.”
“Dad—”
“Cancel it.”
Caleb looked incredulous.
“You don’t control my schedule.”
Robert studied him.
“Actually, that depends which schedule you mean.”
Caleb frowned.
Something passed between them that I didn’t understand.
Then Caleb pulled out his phone and sent a message.
He sat.
Robert adjusted Elodie against his shoulder.
For several seconds, he stared down at her.
“When you were born,” he said to Caleb, “your mother barely slept for three months.”
Caleb’s face changed.
Robert rarely talked about Helen.
She had died of cancer when Caleb was twelve.
I had seen photographs of her around Robert’s house.
A beautiful woman with auburn hair and a wide, effortless smile.
“She never told me how bad it was,” Robert continued.
“I was twenty-eight. Building the company. Working seventy-hour weeks.”
Caleb leaned back.
“What does this have to do with us?”
“Everything.”
Robert looked at me.
“Helen would tell me she was tired.”
He paused.
“And I would say I was tired too.”
Something in his voice tightened.
“She would ask me to take you for an hour.”
He looked at Caleb.
“I’d tell her I had work in the morning.”
Caleb looked uncomfortable.
Robert continued.
“She would ask me to make dinner.”
“I would suggest ordering something.”
“She would ask me to wash bottles.”
“I would say I didn’t know where everything went.”
He gave a humorless laugh.
“I had excuses for everything.”
I watched him carefully.
This was not the Robert I knew.
The Robert I knew was confident.
Controlled.
Successful.
He owned Mercer Infrastructure, a regional engineering company with offices in four states.
He had built it from a two-man operation into something worth tens of millions.
Caleb worked for the company now.
Director of operations.
He liked reminding people of that title.
Robert looked toward the window.
“One evening, Helen handed me you and walked into the bathroom.”
Caleb shifted.
“I remember her being angry sometimes.”
“She wasn’t angry.”
Robert looked at him.
“She was drowning.”
Caleb’s face went still.
“She stayed in the bathroom for forty minutes that night.”
Robert swallowed.
“I stood outside holding you, getting angrier every minute.”
My stomach tightened.
“When she came out,” he continued, “I told her she had wasted enough time.”
Caleb looked down.
Robert stared at the baby in his arms.
“I remember the way she looked at me.”
His voice became quieter.
“Like something had finally broken.”
Nobody spoke.
“She never forgot that night.”
Robert rubbed his thumb gently against Elodie’s blanket.
“Neither did I.”
Caleb’s voice was defensive when he spoke.
“So you were a bad husband twenty-eight years ago. What does that have to do with me?”
Robert looked up.
“It means I recognize myself.”
Caleb’s face hardened.
“I’m not you.”
“No.”
Robert’s answer came instantly.
“You’re worse.”
The words landed hard.
Caleb stood.
“That’s enough.”
“No.”
Robert stood too.
Carefully, he handed Elodie to me.
Then he faced his son.
“I was selfish because I was ignorant.”
His voice remained controlled.
“You are being selfish after seeing exactly what your wife is going through.”
“You don’t know anything about our marriage.”
“I know she looked afraid to take a shower until I told her she could.”
Caleb looked toward me.
I looked away.
That hurt him.
I could see it.
Good.
For once, I wanted something to hurt.
Robert walked toward the kitchen.
“Where are the diapers?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“The diapers.”
“Closet beside the nursery.”
He opened it.
There were three packages left.
Robert looked back.
“How often do you buy them?”
“Usually every ten days.”
“And formula?”
“I mostly nurse, but we keep some for emergencies.”
“Laundry detergent?”
“Robert—”
“I’m asking because apparently household supplies have become a financial emergency.”
Caleb’s mouth tightened.
Robert opened his wallet.
He removed his phone instead.
A few taps later, he showed me a payment confirmation.
Two thousand dollars.
Sent to my account.
I stared.
“What is that?”
“Baby expenses.”
“Robert, no.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t take this.”
“You didn’t ask.”
Caleb stepped forward.
“This is ridiculous.”
Robert looked at him.
“You were concerned about expenses.”
“I didn’t ask you to pay them.”
“I’m not paying them.”
Robert slipped his phone away.
“I’m removing your excuse.”
Caleb stared at him.
“I don’t need your money.”
Robert nodded.
“Good.”
Then he said something that changed the air in the room.
“Because beginning tomorrow, you may not have mine.”
Caleb’s face changed.
“What does that mean?”
Robert checked his watch.
“It means I came here for a reason.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Dad.”
Robert walked toward the entryway.
He picked up the leather folder he had apparently dropped when he arrived.
I hadn’t noticed it before.
Dark brown.
Heavy.
The gold Mercer Infrastructure logo stamped across the front.
He brought it back.
Set it on the coffee table.
Opened it.
Inside were several documents.
Caleb stared at them.
“What is this?”
“Board paperwork.”
Caleb laughed once.
Nervously.
“You drove here because of board paperwork?”
“I drove here because I was supposed to tell you something privately.”
Robert sat.
Caleb remained standing.
Robert pulled out the first document.
“Three months ago, I began planning my retirement.”
Caleb froze.
I knew Robert had talked about slowing down.
But retirement?
That was new.
“I’m stepping down as CEO at the end of the quarter.”
Caleb’s eyes widened.
“You never told me.”
“I was going to today.”
Robert looked at him.
“The board has been evaluating internal successors.”
Caleb’s posture changed almost instantly.
Even after everything that had just happened, I saw ambition replace irritation.
“You mean the CEO position?”
“Yes.”
Caleb sat slowly.
Robert continued.
“There were three internal candidates.”
“Were?”
Robert watched him carefully.
“You were one.”
I felt Caleb stop breathing.
For years, he had talked about eventually running Mercer Infrastructure.
He considered it inevitable.
He was Robert’s only child.
He had an MBA.
He worked constantly.
He knew every executive.
He had spent nearly his entire adult life preparing to inherit the company.
Caleb leaned forward.
“Who are the others?”
“That doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why?”
Robert slid a document across the table.
Caleb picked it up.
I couldn’t read it from where I sat.
But I watched his face.
Confusion.
Then disbelief.
Then anger.
“You removed me?”
Robert didn’t answer.
Caleb looked up.
“You removed me from consideration?”
“Yes.”
“Because of this?”
He pointed toward the bathroom.
Robert’s expression darkened.
“No.”
Caleb looked confused.
Robert opened the folder again.
“Because of this.”
He removed another stack of papers.
Expense reports.
Company credit card statements.
Internal memos.
Caleb stopped moving.
I felt my stomach drop.
Robert placed the papers on the table.
“For six months, finance has been investigating irregular reimbursements in your division.”
Caleb’s face drained.
“What irregular reimbursements?”
“Hotels.”
Caleb blinked.
“Client travel.”
“Restaurants.”
“Meetings.”
“Vehicle expenses.”
“Site visits.”
“Executive wellness reimbursements.”
Caleb said nothing.
Robert pulled out another page.
“And seventeen thousand four hundred dollars classified as residential efficiency upgrades.”
My eyes moved toward Caleb.
Residential.
Our home?
Robert continued.
“New smart thermostats.”
He looked around.
“Security equipment.”
His eyes landed on the hallway.
“Plumbing control hardware.”
My pulse began pounding.
Caleb stood.
“This is insane.”
Robert looked at me.
“Tessa, did the company pay for renovations here?”
“No.”
“At least not that I knew.”
Robert looked at Caleb.
“The invoices say otherwise.”
Caleb laughed harshly.
“You’re investigating me because accounting coded expenses incorrectly?”
“No.”
Robert’s voice became colder.
“I’m investigating you because you approved them.”
Caleb looked at me.
Then back at Robert.
“It was home-office reimbursement.”
“The board disagrees.”
Robert slid another document across the table.
“Effective this morning, your corporate access has been suspended pending investigation.”
Caleb stared.
“You can’t do that.”
“The board already did.”
“You’re the chairman.”
“Yes.”
“Then reverse it.”
“No.”
Caleb stepped closer.
“You’re destroying my career because my wife complained about a shower timer?”
Robert stood.
“This investigation started eight weeks ago.”
That stopped him.
Eight weeks.
Before Elodie was born.
Before the timer.
Before Robert had walked into our hallway.
Caleb’s confidence finally cracked.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I wanted to give you a chance to tell me yourself.”
Robert’s voice turned almost sad.
“You didn’t.”
Caleb looked at me.
His eyes suddenly filled with something I had never seen before.
Fear.
Real fear.
Then his attention returned to the folder.
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
Robert’s answer came carefully.
“I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“The auditors will determine that.”
Caleb laughed bitterly.
“Fine.”
He pointed toward me.
“But she has nothing to do with company business.”
“No.”
Robert looked at me.
“She doesn’t.”
Then he removed one final envelope.
Cream-colored.
Sealed.
My name was written across the front.
TESSA MERCER.
I stared.
“What is that?”
Robert placed it in my hands.
“Helen’s.”
Caleb looked up.
“What?”
Robert sat again.
“Your mother left several letters.”
“To me?”
“One to you.”
Robert looked at me.
“And one to the woman you eventually married.”
My hands went cold.
“How could she write me a letter? She died before I met Caleb.”
“She didn’t know your name.”
Robert’s eyes softened.
“She addressed it to her son’s future wife.”
I stared at the envelope.
For several seconds, I couldn’t open it.
Caleb looked equally stunned.
“I never knew about that.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
Robert nodded toward the envelope.
“Read it.”
My fingers shook slightly as I opened it.
The paper inside was old.
Cream-colored.
The handwriting matched the photographed journal entry Robert had described earlier.
I unfolded it.
The first line nearly stopped my heart.
To the woman my son chooses,
I hope he becomes the man I know he can be.
I swallowed.
Caleb moved closer.
I continued.
But if he ever begins treating love like ownership, please do not confuse endurance with loyalty.
My eyes blurred.
I kept reading.
His father and I learned some lessons far too late.
Love should never require you to become smaller so another person can feel larger.
Your time belongs to you.
Your body belongs to you.
Your voice belongs to you.
If my son ever forgets that, remind him once.
If he still refuses to understand, protect yourself.
I covered my mouth.
The final paragraph was shorter.
And stranger.
There is something Robert has promised to give you if that day ever comes.
It may seem excessive.
Trust him.
It exists because I refused to let my mistakes become another woman’s cage.
I looked up.
Robert was watching me.
“What does that mean?”
Caleb’s face had gone pale.
“Dad?”
Robert reached into the leather folder again.
This time, he removed a legal document.
Thicker than the others.
Not company paperwork.
Estate paperwork.
He placed it on the table.
“Your mother created a trust.”
Caleb stared at him.
“What trust?”
Robert looked directly at me.
“A marital protection trust.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
Robert continued.
“Helen established it using shares she owned in Mercer Infrastructure.”
Caleb stared at him.
“She had shares?”
“Thirty-two percent when she died.”
“That transferred to you.”
“Partially.”
Robert tapped the document.
“Not all of it.”
My mouth went dry.
“What happened to the rest?”
Robert’s eyes stayed on mine.
“She placed twelve percent into an irrevocable trust.”
Caleb stepped closer.
“For me?”
Robert slowly shook his head.
“For your future spouse.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I stared at him.
“That makes no sense.”
“It made perfect sense to Helen.”
Robert’s voice was quiet.
“She knew the company might make you powerful one day.”
He looked at Caleb.
“She wanted to make sure the woman beside you would never be financially trapped.”
Caleb grabbed the document.
His eyes moved rapidly across the page.
“This can’t be real.”
“It is.”
“Twelve percent?”
“Yes.”
Caleb looked at me.
Mercer Infrastructure was privately held.
But even I knew the company’s valuation.
Twelve percent wasn’t thousands.
It wasn’t hundreds of thousands.
It was millions.
Possibly tens of millions.
I felt dizzy.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Robert answered.
“Because the trust activates only under specific conditions.”
Caleb stopped reading.
“What conditions?”
Robert’s gaze moved toward the hallway.
Toward the shower.
Then back to me.
“Documented financial or domestic coercion.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
Caleb stared at his father.
“You’re calling me abusive?”
Robert’s voice remained steady.
“I’m saying your mother hired very expensive lawyers to define conditions she never wanted your wife to experience.”
Caleb looked back down at the document.
His face changed as he read.
Robert continued.
“The trustees require evidence.”
He reached into his coat.
Then placed a small black device on the table.
Caleb stared at it.
“What is that?”
Robert didn’t answer immediately.
I recognized it first.
A home energy monitor.
Except this one had been installed months ago as part of our smart-home system.
Caleb had insisted it would reduce utility costs.
Robert turned it over.
“Your system logs every manual water shutoff.”
I stopped breathing.
He looked at Caleb.
“Date.”
“Time.”
“Duration.”
Caleb’s face emptied.
“And apparently,” Robert continued, “your home assistant recorded several voice commands linked to those shutoffs.”
Caleb stared at him.
“You accessed my house?”
“No.”
“The data was stored under a corporate smart-home reimbursement account.”
Robert’s expression hardened.
“You gave the company access when you billed us for the system.”
That was the moment Caleb finally understood.
The very equipment he had used to control the water had created the record proving he had done it.
Robert looked at me.
“Tomorrow morning, the trustees meet.”
My pulse hammered.
“They’ll determine whether Helen’s trust activates.”
Caleb sank into the chair.
“How much?”
Robert didn’t answer.
Caleb looked up.
“How much is twelve percent worth?”
Robert’s gaze moved to me.
“At the current valuation?”
He paused.
“Approximately twenty-eight million dollars.”
I forgot how to breathe.
Caleb’s face went completely white.
Robert closed the folder.
“And there’s one more thing.”
Nobody moved.
“If the trust activates, the voting rights transfer immediately.”
Caleb frowned.
“To who?”
Robert looked at me.
“To Tessa.”
Caleb stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“No.”
Robert remained calm.
“She would become the company’s second-largest individual voting shareholder.”
“No.”
Caleb looked at me like I had somehow engineered the entire thing.
“You knew.”
I almost laughed.
“I learned about this thirty seconds ago.”
“This is insane.”
He turned toward Robert.
“You’re giving my wife control over my family’s company because I timed her showers?”
Robert stood.
“No, Caleb.”
His voice was quiet.
“You may lose influence over this company because your mother spent the last years of her life making sure power could never become a weapon inside her son’s marriage.”
Caleb stared at him.
His face twisted with anger.
Then fear.
Then something colder.
He looked at me.
“You’re not going to sign anything.”
Robert stepped between us.
“That is her decision.”
Caleb ignored him.
“Tessa.”
His voice softened suddenly.
Too suddenly.
“We can work this out.”
I stared at him.
Only hours earlier, he had shut off the water while shampoo ran down my neck.
Now there were twenty-eight million reasons for him to sound gentle.
“We’re married.”
He took one step closer.
“We just had a baby.”
Another step.
“You don’t want to destroy Elodie’s family.”
The words hit me differently now.
Weeks ago, they might have worked.
Maybe even that morning.
But something had shifted.
Perhaps it was the letter in my hands.
Perhaps it was Robert standing beside me.
Or maybe it was simply the realization that someone who had died more than a decade before I met her had cared enough to make sure I had a choice.
I looked at Caleb.
“I’m not destroying anything.”
His jaw tightened.
“Tessa.”
“You made the rules.”
I glanced toward the hallway.
“Four minutes.”
He looked away.
Robert checked his watch.
“We should go.”
Caleb stared at him.
“Go where?”
Robert looked at me.
“My house.”
I hesitated.
Robert continued.
“You and Elodie can stay as long as you want.”
Caleb laughed incredulously.
“You’re taking my wife?”
“No.”
Robert’s expression hardened.
“She is leaving.”
“There’s a difference.”
Caleb looked at me.
“Tell him you’re staying.”
I looked toward the bedroom.
The diaper bag.
The bassinet.
The little pile of clean baby clothes I had folded at two that morning.
My whole life seemed to fit into one small room.
Then Elodie stirred in my arms.
I looked down at her.
Her tiny fingers curled against my shirt.
And suddenly the decision became very simple.
“I’m going with Robert.”
Caleb stared at me.
“Tessa.”
“I need space.”
“You don’t need space.”
“Yes.”
His voice sharpened.
“You’re exhausted. You’re emotional.”
Robert stepped forward.
“Careful.”
Caleb ignored him.
“You’ve barely slept.”
“That’s true.”
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
I almost smiled.
For the first time in weeks, I felt like I was.
I walked toward the nursery.
I packed clothes.
Diapers.
Bottles.
Elodie’s blanket.
The stuffed rabbit Robert had bought her the day she was born.
Caleb followed me.
Not yelling.
Not threatening.
That would have been easier.
Instead, he pleaded.
“Tessa, please.”
I kept packing.
“I can change.”
I zipped the diaper bag.
“We can get rid of the timer.”
I picked up Elodie’s carrier.
“It isn’t about the timer.”
“What else do you want?”
That question stopped me.
I turned.
He looked genuinely confused.
As though marriage were a negotiation where I simply hadn’t provided clear enough demands.
“What do I want?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“I want to take a shower without wondering whether my husband will punish me for taking five minutes.”
His face tightened.
“I wasn’t punishing you.”
“I want to sleep for three hours without someone acting like caring for his own daughter is doing me a favor.”
“Tessa—”
“I want to buy diapers without hearing a lecture.”
He looked away.
“I want to stop apologizing every time Elodie cries.”
He said nothing.
“And I want my daughter to grow up believing kindness is normal.”
That one landed.
I walked past him.
Robert was waiting near the front door.
He took the diaper bag.
I carried Elodie.
Caleb followed us onto the porch.
“Tessa.”
I turned.
For one second, he looked like the man I married.
Scared.
Lost.
Human.
Then he said something that reminded me exactly why I was leaving.
“If you go to that trustee meeting tomorrow, there’s no taking it back.”
I stared at him.
Not I love you.
Not I’m sorry.
Not please come home.
The trust.
The shares.
The company.
Robert heard it too.
His expression changed.
I nodded slowly.
“Then I guess tomorrow matters.”
We walked to Robert’s car.
He opened the rear door.
I secured Elodie inside.
As I climbed into the passenger seat, Caleb remained on the porch.
Watching.
Robert started the engine.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
His face changed.
“What is it?” I asked.
He answered.
“Mercer.”
Silence.
Then his hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“When?”
Another pause.
“No. Don’t contact Caleb.”
My stomach turned.
Robert looked toward me.
The color had drained from his face.
“Send everything directly to my attorney.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
Robert didn’t answer immediately.
Then he pulled the car to the side of the road.
“Tessa.”
Something in his voice frightened me.
“What?”
“The financial investigation just found another account.”
I stared at him.
“What account?”
Robert swallowed.
“An account opened eighteen months ago.”
He looked at me.
“In Elodie’s name.”
My chest tightened.
“She wasn’t born eighteen months ago.”
“I know.”
The world seemed to stop.
Robert turned the phone toward me.
On the screen was a bank record.
Account holder:
ELODIE HELEN MERCER.
Opening deposit:
$750,000.
Date opened:
Nine months before I became pregnant.
I stared at it.
“That’s impossible.”
Robert’s expression was grim.
“Yes.”
Then he scrolled lower.
And showed me the authorized signer.
Caleb Mercer.
But there was a second name beneath his.
A woman’s name.
One I had never seen before.
Robert stared at the screen.
Then at me.
“I know who she is.”
My heart hammered.
“Who?”
Robert’s answer came quietly.
“She was your husband’s first wife.”
