Chapter 2 - THE HUSBAND WHO DID NOTHING
Evelyn woke to the sound of a baby crying.
For several seconds, she did not know where she was.
The ceiling above her was white.
The room smelled like antiseptic.
Her body felt heavy, bruised, and strangely hollow.
Then she remembered.
The broom.
The marble floor.
The blood.
Grant standing there.
And the old man with the recorder.
Evelyn tried to sit up.
Pain shot through her abdomen.
A nurse immediately appeared beside the bed.
“Easy.”
“My baby?”
The nurse smiled gently.
“She’s still with us.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
The relief was so intense it made her cry.
“Is she okay?”
“The doctor is monitoring you both. You had a placental injury, but the bleeding has slowed.”
Evelyn looked toward the door.
“Where is my husband?”
The nurse hesitated.
That hesitation told Evelyn everything.
“He was here,” the nurse said.
“Was?”
“He left.”
Evelyn turned her face toward the window.
Of course he had.
Grant Whitmore had always been good at leaving.
The old man entered twenty minutes later.
Evelyn recognized him immediately.
“You,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“My name is Marcus Vale.”
“You said I owned the Whitmore empire.”
“I said you were the rightful beneficiary of something Vivian Whitmore has spent twenty years hiding.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“Who are you?”
“Your mother’s attorney.”
The room seemed to grow colder.
Evelyn's mother had been dead for eleven years.
“My mother never mentioned you.”
“She couldn't.”
“Why?”
Marcus looked toward the hallway.
“Because Vivian made certain she never had the chance.”
Evelyn felt a chill move through her.
Marcus placed the recorder on the table.
“I need you to understand something. The recording is only the beginning.”
“What was on it?”
“Enough to prove Vivian has been planning to remove you from the Whitmore family.”
Evelyn's hand moved over her belly.
“Why?”
“Because of your daughter.”
“Why would she care about my baby?”
Marcus looked at her.
“Because your baby is the reason the Whitmore empire may not belong to Grant.”
Evelyn stared at him.
Marcus leaned forward.
“Your mother was named in an old trust created by Nathaniel Whitmore.”
Evelyn's heart stopped.
“Nathaniel?”
“Grant’s grandfather.”
“The man who died twenty years ago?”
Marcus did not answer immediately.
Finally, he said, “That is what everyone was told.”
Evelyn looked at the recorder.
“What does Vivian know?”
“Everything.”
“And Grant?”
Marcus's expression hardened.
“Grant knows enough to be afraid.”
The hospital door opened.
Grant stood there.
His face was exhausted.
He looked at Evelyn.
“Can we talk?”
Evelyn stared at him.
“You left me bleeding on the kitchen floor.”
Grant flinched.
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You could have called an ambulance.”
“I did.”
“No.”
Grant looked away.
Evelyn studied him.
For the first time, she saw something different in his face.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“What did my mother say to you?” Grant asked.
Evelyn's heart tightened.
“Your mother?”
“Did Marcus tell you something?”
Evelyn did not answer.
Grant stepped closer.
“Evelyn, whatever he told you, you need to be careful.”
“Careful of whom?”
Grant looked at Marcus.
“Of everyone.”
Marcus stood.
“Get out.”
Grant's face hardened.
“This is my wife.”
“No,” Marcus said. “This is a woman you watched bleed.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
For one second, Evelyn thought he might finally defend himself.
Instead, he looked at her.
“Mom says you’re trying to destroy us.”
Evelyn laughed.
It was a small, broken sound.
“Your mother beat me.”
Grant said nothing.
That silence was the answer.
Marcus opened the door.
“Leave.”
Grant stared at Evelyn.
“Please.”
She looked away.
“Go.”
Grant left.
Evelyn turned to Marcus.
“Tell me everything.”
Marcus nodded.
Then he opened a leather folder.
The first document inside bore Evelyn's mother's signature.
At the bottom was a name Evelyn had never seen before.
THE HART-WHITMORE FAMILY TRUST.
And beneath it, one sentence:
The unborn child of Evelyn Hart shall become the controlling beneficiary upon birth.
Evelyn stared at the page.
Her baby kicked.
And somewhere across town, Vivian Whitmore received a phone call.
“The girl knows.”
Vivian stood beside her bedroom window.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Vivian closed her eyes.
May you like
Then she whispered:
“Then we move tonight.”
