Chapter 4 - THE CHILD WHO WAS NEVER HISThere are moments when your mind refuses to understand what your ears have heard.
Rebecca Sloan standing on our doorstep with a frightened little boy was one of them.
My husband stared at the child.
Then at Rebecca.
"What did you just say?"
Rebecca tightened her arms around the boy.
"Can we please come inside?"
I wanted to slam the door.
Not because of the child.
He was innocent.
But because Rebecca represented everything Patricia had used to make me feel inadequate.
Her expensive clothes.
Her wealthy family.
Her perfectly styled hair.
The way Patricia used to mention her name whenever she wanted to hurt me.
Yet the woman standing outside our cottage didn't look glamorous.
She looked terrified.
"Come in," I said.
Ethan turned toward me.
"Claire—"
"There's a child freezing on our porch, Ethan. Let them in."
Rebecca stepped inside.
The little boy buried his face against her shoulder.
I brought a blanket from the couch.
"What's his name?"
"Noah."
"Hello, Noah."
He peeked at me with enormous brown eyes.
"Hi."
"Would you like some hot chocolate?"
He nodded.
Rebecca looked ready to collapse.
I led them into the living room while Ethan checked outside.
When he came back, he locked the door.
Then he sat across from Rebecca.
"Start talking."
She looked at me.
"Patricia told me she'd never let you marry Ethan."
"I know about the letters."
Rebecca's face crumpled.
"Then you know what Madison tried."
"Some of it."
She shook her head.
"No. You don't."
Rebecca set Noah beside her and switched on a cartoon at low volume.
The little boy curled beneath his blanket.
Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a folder.
"I should have come forward years ago."
Ethan didn't move.
"Rebecca."
She looked up.
"Noah isn't your son."
He frowned.
"I know that."
I looked at him.
"You know?"
He turned toward me.
"Claire, I haven't been involved with Rebecca since college."
Rebecca nodded.
"That's true."
They'd dated briefly before I met Ethan.
I knew that much.
But I didn't know what had happened afterward.
Rebecca opened the folder.
"Four years ago, Patricia contacted me. She claimed Ethan was reconsidering his marriage."
My stomach twisted.
"Reconsidering?"
"She said you were fighting all the time. She said he regretted marrying you."
I stared at Ethan.
He shook his head.
"She never told me any of this."
Rebecca continued.
"At first, I told her to stop contacting me. But then she found out I was pregnant."
She looked toward Noah.
"My boyfriend had left when I told him. I was alone, unemployed, and scared."
Something in her voice softened my anger.
I knew what it felt like to be frightened about a child.
"Patricia offered me money," Rebecca said.
"Money for what?" Ethan asked.
"To tell you the baby was yours."
The silence that followed was enormous.
I could hear the fireplace ticking.
Noah laughed quietly at something on the television.
Ethan looked physically sick.
"Why?"
"Because she thought you'd leave Claire."
I covered my mouth.
"She wanted to break our marriage by inventing another child?"
Rebecca nodded.
"She said Ethan would do the honorable thing. That he'd never abandon his son."
Ethan leaned forward.
"Did you agree?"
Rebecca's eyes filled.
"For a while."
My stomach tightened.
She hurried to explain.
"I never contacted you. I never told anyone Noah was yours. But I accepted some money because Patricia said she was helping with the pregnancy."
"How much?" I asked.
"Eight thousand dollars."
I closed my eyes.
Eight thousand dollars.
Money my husband had been secretly sending his mother.
Money that, indirectly, had helped finance a plan to destroy our family.
Rebecca wiped her face.
"When Noah was born, Patricia tried to convince me to approach Ethan. She'd already written a letter for me to sign."
She pushed a paper across the table.
The letter claimed Ethan had fathered Noah during an affair.
It demanded financial support.
At the bottom was a blank line for Rebecca's signature.
"I refused," she whispered. "I couldn't do that to you."
"Then why are you here now?" Ethan asked.
Rebecca looked toward the window.
"Because Patricia called me yesterday."
"Christmas Day?"
"Yes. She was hysterical. She said you'd taken everything from her."
Ethan's expression hardened.
"What did she want?"
"She wanted me to make the accusation publicly."
I felt cold all over.
"She wanted you to say Ethan cheated on me?"
Rebecca nodded.
"And that he'd abandoned his child."
"Why would she think that would work now?" I asked.
"Because she said she had a lawyer who could help force the issue. She thought you might leave him if the story became public."
Ethan laughed bitterly.
"She never changes."
Rebecca shook her head.
"That's not the reason I came."
I looked at her.
"What is?"
She reached into the folder again.
This time she pulled out a photograph.
It showed Patricia standing outside a playground.
Beside her stood Madison.
Between them was Noah.
The picture appeared to have been taken recently.
"When was this?" I asked.
"Last week."
Ethan frowned.
"Why were they with your son?"
Rebecca's face went pale.
"I didn't know they were."
She explained that Noah attended a preschool fifteen minutes from Patricia's house.
Three days earlier, his teacher had mentioned a woman who introduced herself as his grandmother.
Rebecca had immediately requested that only authorized adults be allowed near Noah.
Then, on Christmas afternoon, Patricia called.
She knew Noah's school.
His teacher's name.
The color of Rebecca's car.
She even knew where his bedroom window faced.
My hand flew to my mouth.
"His bedroom window?"
Rebecca nodded.
"She told me that if I didn't cooperate, she'd make sure I regretted it."
I showed her the photograph of Lily sleeping.
Rebecca began to tremble.
"Oh, my God."
"Did Patricia take this?"
"I don't know."
"Who knows where we're staying?" Ethan asked.
Rebecca swallowed.
"Your father."
Ethan's face changed.
"My father?"
"He called me this afternoon. Told me I should come speak with you."
"Did he give you this address?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
I stared at my husband.
Richard had known about our cottage.
Because Ethan had told him, believing that he was finally trying to help us.
Ethan closed his eyes.
"Claire, I'm sorry."
I held up my hand.
"Not now."
Then Rebecca said something unexpected.
"Richard isn't the one you should be afraid of."
We both turned.
"Who is?" I asked.
"Madison."
I almost laughed.
"Madison does whatever Patricia tells her."
Rebecca shook her head.
"That's what everyone thinks."
She reached for her phone.
"Two nights ago, Madison called me. She was furious. Patricia had apparently promised to give her the house if she helped expose your marriage."
Ethan frowned.
"The house belongs to me."
"I know that now. Madison didn't."
Rebecca scrolled through her phone and played a recording.
Madison's voice filled the room.
You want to know something funny, Rebecca? Mom thinks she's in charge. She has no idea what I found.
Rebecca's recorded voice followed.
What are you talking about?
Ethan's company. The money. Everything.
Ethan sat forward.
The recording continued.
There's something buried in those accounts, and when I prove it, Ethan won't be able to keep the house or the business.
Then Madison laughed.
And Mom will have no choice but to give me what I deserve.
The recording ended.
Ethan's expression had become dangerously still.
"What accounts?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached for his phone and dialed a number.
A man answered.
"Ethan? It's almost midnight."
"Mark, I need you to check the company bank accounts."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Mark Peterson was Ethan's business partner and closest friend.
They had started their construction company together nearly ten years earlier.
I heard keyboard clicks on the other end.
Then silence.
"Mark?"
More clicking.
"That can't be right," Mark muttered.
Ethan stood.
"What can't?"
"There's a transfer request pending."
"How much?"
"Three hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
I stared at my husband.
He looked like he'd stopped breathing.
"From where?"
"The operating reserve."
"To whom?"
Mark hesitated.
Then his voice became sharp.
"Ethan, did you authorize a payment to a company called Northstar Property Consultants?"
"No."
"Well, someone did."
Ethan gripped the phone.
"Cancel it."
"I'm trying."
Another pause.
Then Mark said, "There's something else."
"What?"
"The authorization came through your credentials."
Ethan went pale.
"That's impossible."
Mark's voice lowered.
"And the transaction includes a signed approval."
"Whose signature?"
"Yours."
I looked at Rebecca.
She was staring at her son.
Then Ethan turned toward me.
And I saw the most frightening realization yet cross his face.
May you like
Someone wasn't merely trying to ruin our marriage.
Someone was trying to make my husband look like a criminal.
Related Stories
