Chapter 1 - THE FAVOR HE PROMISED
“Baby… do you want to see your daddy?”
I whispered the question into my empty hotel room, one hand resting against my stomach.
At seven weeks pregnant, there was nothing to see yet.
No rounded belly.
No tiny kicks.
Just a secret.
A heartbeat I had seen flickering on an ultrasound screen four days earlier.
And a father who had signed away our marriage without knowing that his child existed.
My phone vibrated again.
VINCENT: Claire. Please answer me.
I stared at the message.
For three years, I had waited for Vincent Moretti to ask me to stay.
He never had.
Now, less than twenty-four hours before my flight, he suddenly wanted to see me.
I typed:
Why?
His reply arrived almost immediately.
Because Sophia told me something I should have known years ago.
My fingers went cold.
Sophia Reynolds.
The beautiful woman Vincent had supposedly loved before marrying me.
The woman who returned to Chicago and watched my marriage collapse.
The woman who had gone pale when I handed her that red envelope.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
What did she tell you?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then appeared again.
That she lied about why she left Chicago.
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Another secret.
Another betrayal.
Another reason Vincent suddenly wanted something from me.
My phone rang.
I let it ring.
Then it rang again.
I answered.
“What?”
Vincent exhaled.
“Claire.”
His voice was low.
Rough.
Exhausted.
I hated that it still affected me.
“What do you want, Vincent?”
“I need to explain something.”
“You had three years.”
Silence.
Then he said, “I know.”
That surprised me.
Vincent Moretti rarely admitted he was wrong.
He commanded.
Negotiated.
Threatened.
But apologized?
Almost never.
I looked toward the suitcase beside my bed.
“I'm leaving tomorrow.”
“I know.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“Madison told my driver you had a flight.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course someone told you.”
“Claire—”
“Vincent, I'm not your wife anymore. You don't get to track my movements.”
A long pause.
Then he said quietly, “You're right.”
I stared at the wall.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Finally, Vincent whispered, “Can I see you for ten minutes?”
I almost said yes.
Almost.
Then I remembered our divorce.
The way he sat across from me without touching my hand.
The way he offered money as though three years of marriage could be reduced to a number.
The way he let me walk out of his mansion with two suitcases.
“No,” I said.
His breathing changed.
“Claire.”
“Goodbye, Vincent.”
I ended the call.
Then I turned off my phone.
May you like
For the first time in three years, I chose silence over waiting.
And somewhere across Chicago, the most feared Mafia boss in the city was about to discover what it felt like when the person he loved stopped answering.
