Chapter 2 - FIVE YEARS OF SILENCE
We did not go to Alexander's house.
I made that clear.
Instead, Marco drove us to the hotel I'd booked for the funeral.
Alexander followed in another car.
He didn't argue when I insisted on separate rooms.
That was new.
The Alexander I'd married had treated disagreement as an inconvenience.
The man standing in the hotel lobby now looked as though every decision required conscious effort.
Oliver fell asleep against my shoulder before we reached the elevator.
Alexander watched me adjust his weight.
“May I carry him?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“All right.”
I hated that his acceptance made me feel something.
I hated even more that I remembered a time when I'd have given anything for him to look at me the way he was looking at our son.
After Oliver was asleep, I agreed to speak with Alexander in the hotel lounge.
Only because Claire Bennett Moretti was no longer the woman who cried alone beside an anniversary dinner.
I had questions.
And this time, I intended to get answers.
Alexander sat across from me.
He looked tired.
Not ordinary tired.
The kind of exhaustion that settled into a man's bones after years of sleeping badly.
“You received that letter three weeks after I left?”
“Yes.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Graham.”
I froze.
Graham Voss.
Alexander's chief of staff.
A polished, efficient man who had handled every detail of our marriage.
“He said it came through your attorney.”
“It didn't.”
“I know.”
I leaned forward.
“How?”
Alexander looked down.
“Because six months ago, Graham disappeared.”
My stomach tightened.
“Disappeared?”
“He emptied several accounts and vanished. During the investigation, we discovered correspondence he'd concealed.”
I stared.
“What correspondence?”
Alexander's jaw tightened.
“Letters from you.”
The room seemed to shift.
I remembered writing three letters during my pregnancy.
One after the first ultrasound.
One after I learned the baby was a boy.
One after I was hospitalized with complications at thirty-two weeks.
I had never mailed them directly.
I'd sent them through the legal office handling our separation.
I'd wanted Alexander to know.
Even after everything.
I'd wanted him to have the chance to choose.
But no answer came.
So I stopped.
“You never received them?”
Alexander shook his head.
“No.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“Then what did you receive?”
He looked at me.
“Monthly reports saying you were safe.”
I stared.
“Reports?”
He nodded.
“From Graham.”
My blood turned cold.
“Someone was watching us?”
Alexander's silence was answer enough.
I stood so quickly my chair scraped backward.
“You had me followed?”
“Claire—”
“You had someone watching me raise our child while you stayed here?”
His face tightened.
“I believed you didn't want contact.”
“But you wanted information.”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Convenient.”
Alexander stood.
“I was wrong.”
The words stopped me.
He continued.
“I should have questioned the letter. I should have contacted your attorney directly. I should have found a way to confirm that you were safe without violating your privacy.”
I stared at him.
He looked away.
“And I should never have let another man decide whether I knew my son.”
For a moment, I saw something I hadn't expected.
Regret.
Not the polished kind people offered when they wanted forgiveness.
Something uglier.
Something that had lived inside him for years.
But regret didn't erase four birthdays.
It didn't erase Oliver's first steps.
Or his first word.
Or the night he had pneumonia and I'd sat beside his hospital bed praying until sunrise.
“You missed everything,” I whispered.
Alexander closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No,” I said. “You don't.”
May you like
I walked away.
And this time, he let me.
