Chapter 6 - Nobody Takes My Daughter TwiceWe were airborne within thirty minutes.
Security called first.
“Mr. Albright is downstairs.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes.”
“Search him.”
A pause.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then send him up.”
Five minutes later, the man I had slept beside for nearly ten years entered the suite looking as though he had aged a decade overnight.
No designer jacket.
No perfect hair.
No confidence.
He wore yesterday’s clothes.
His eyes were red.
He stopped when he saw me.
“Gwen.”
I stayed seated.
“Connor.”
He looked around.
“Where’s Paige?”
“Another floor.”
“The twins?”
“With her.”
“Are they really Nathaniel’s?”
“Biologically, yes.”
He shut his eyes.
“My mother said—”
“Sit.”
He looked at me.
I had never spoken to him that way.
Not once.
Eventually, he sat.
Marcus remained near the door.
Connor glanced at him.
“Can we talk privately?”
“No.”
“Gwen.”
“Anything you say to me from this point forward should be something you’re comfortable repeating to my attorney.”
Pain flashed across his face.
“How did we get here?”
I stared at him.
“You walked through my front door with your mistress and two babies.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“No, Connor. You know that happened. I don’t think you understand what it meant.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You made decisions.”
He lowered his head.
“I didn’t know about the embryos.”
“I believe that.”
He looked up quickly.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Hope appeared.
I killed it.
“That does not make you innocent.”
His face fell.
“I know.”
“Did you know you were infertile?”
Silence.
“Connor.”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
“When did you learn?”
“Before we met.”
There it was.
Ten years of my life compressed into four words.
I forced myself not to react.
“You knew before our first date?”
“Yes.”
“Before our wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Before I started fertility treatment?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
I stood and walked toward the window because remaining near him felt impossible.
“Why?”
“I was ashamed.”
I turned.
“Of infertility?”
“Yes.”
“So you made me believe it was my body.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I never said it was you.”
“You sat in doctors’ offices while they tested me. You watched them prescribe medication. You let me inject hormones every night.”
“I thought the treatments might still work.”
“With whose sperm?”
He looked away.
“Connor.”
“A donor.”
“Which I never agreed to.”
“I thought Mom had handled the consent.”
I stared at him.
“You thought your mother obtained my consent?”
His silence said enough.
“You knew she didn’t.”
“I didn’t want to know.”
That sentence was perhaps the most truthful thing Connor had ever said.
He did not want to know.
Not when his father’s company was failing.
Not when Northstar mysteriously rescued it.
Not when I underwent fertility treatment.
Not when his mother insulted me.
Not when he started sleeping with Paige.
Connor’s greatest talent had never been cruelty.
It was selective blindness.
As long as the truth inconvenienced someone else, he could live beautifully without it.
“What about the miscarriage?”
He flinched.
“Don’t.”
“Did you know that embryo wasn’t created with your sperm?”
“Yes.”
I felt tears fill my eyes.
Not because I was weak.
Because I remembered how I had held his hand in the hospital and apologized.
I had apologized to him.
“I told you I was sorry,” I whispered.
Connor’s face crumpled.
“I remember.”
“I told you my body killed our baby.”
“Gwen—”
“And you let me say it.”
He stood.
“I hated myself.”
“Not enough to tell me.”
“I was scared I would lose you.”
“So you lied until you lost me.”
He started crying.
For once, I felt nothing when I saw it.
“Did you know Beatrice used another embryo?”
“No.”
“Did you know Sophie existed?”
“No.”
“The boy?”
“No.”
“I believe you.”
He stared at me helplessly.
“Is there any chance we can—”
“No.”
I answered so quickly that he stopped.
“Gwen, please.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even let me—”
“There is nothing you can say that turns this into a marriage again.”
“I love you.”
“I believe you think you do.”
“I do.”
“No. You loved being loved by me.”
He wiped his face.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s extremely fair.”
“I made one terrible mistake with Paige.”
“Twice.”
He looked startled.
“She told you?”
“Yes.”
He sat again.
“What else did she tell you?”
“Enough.”
Connor rubbed both hands over his face.
“She said she was pregnant. My mother said the treatment had worked. I thought the twins were mine.”
“You knew you couldn’t produce sperm.”
“Mom said she had frozen samples from before the diagnosis.”
“And you believed her.”
“I wanted to.”
Of course.
That was Connor’s entire life.
Believing whatever protected him from discomfort.
“The $80 million,” I said.
He looked up.
“Was that your idea?”
“No.”
“Did you know she planned it?”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought it would be easier.”
“For whom?”
No answer.
“For you,” I said.
“Yes.”
At least he had stopped lying.
“I thought you would take the money and start over.”
“You thought I was worth eighty million dollars to erase.”
“No. God, Gwen—”
“Your mother called it generous.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You stood there holding a baby you believed you conceived with another woman and told me it was generous.”
He covered his face.
I waited.
Eventually he said, “I didn’t know you were Northstar.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The audacity almost impressed me.
“You do not get to put my privacy on trial after this.”
“I’m not. I just... I want to understand.”
“I planned to tell you after the wedding.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Your mother spent the week before our wedding telling every member of your family that I might be a gold digger. Then you asked me to sign a prenup protecting your eight-million-dollar trust.”
Connor looked embarrassed.
“I remember.”
“I was worth nearly two billion dollars at the time.”
He stared.
“Two...?”
“Approximately.”
“And now?”
“That is none of your business.”
He actually laughed.
One stunned, broken sound.
“All these years.”
“Yes.”
“The vacations. The house. The foundation dinners.”
“I let you pay.”
“Why?”
“Because it mattered to you.”
He looked devastated.
“And Northstar?”
“Mine.”
“You saved the company.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you cared about it.”
Connor leaned back as though struck.
“You put hundreds of millions into my family’s company because I cared about it?”
“I loved you.”
Past tense.
He heard it.
His eyes closed.
I continued.
“I never wanted your company. I wanted you to succeed. I wanted your employees protected. I wanted you to become the man I believed you were.”
“What happens now?”
“The board votes tomorrow.”
“You’re removing me?”
“I’m requesting a temporary leave while the financial investigation proceeds.”
“Gwen, if I leave now, the market will panic.”
“Then perhaps you should have considered your fiduciary responsibilities before allowing company foundation money to finance your mother’s private schemes.”
“I didn’t know she used foundation money.”
“The CEO is still responsible for governance.”
His face hardened slightly.
There.
For one moment I saw the man who had walked into the foyer proudly introducing sons conceived through betrayal.
“You’re enjoying this.”
I stared.
“You think this is revenge.”
“Isn’t it?”
“No.”
I walked closer.
“Revenge would be destroying Albright Holdings simply because you love it.”
He said nothing.
“I’m not going to do that. Twelve thousand people work there. They have mortgages, children, medical bills, retirements. They didn’t betray me.”
Connor looked away.
“I’m going to protect the company.”
“And me?”
“That’s no longer my job.”
He swallowed.
“What about Mom?”
“That depends on how many laws she broke.”
“She’s still my mother.”
“And Sophie is still my daughter.”
He flinched.
I sat opposite him.
“Here is what I need from you.”
“What?”
“Complete cooperation.”
“With what?”
“Everything.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You want me to testify against my mother.”
“If the truth requires it.”
“I can’t.”
“Then don’t.”
He looked confused.
“I’m not begging you anymore, Connor. I’m not asking you to choose me. That version of our relationship is over.”
“Then why are we talking?”
“Because for the first time in your life, you need to choose who you are when nobody is protecting you from the consequences.”
He stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you can walk out of this room, return to Beatrice, and help her bury whatever remains.”
I pointed toward the door.
“Or you can stay and tell Marcus everything.”
Connor looked at the attorney.
Then at me.
His expression changed.
“What if what I know makes it worse?”
“Then it gets worse.”
He sat in silence for almost a minute.
Finally he whispered, “There’s a safe in my mother’s house.”
Marcus straightened.
“Where?”
“Her private sitting room.”
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know everything.”
I waited.
Connor continued.
“But eight years ago, after your miscarriage, I saw a folder with your name on it.”
My stomach tightened.
“What was in it?”
“I only saw one page.”
“What page?”
“A birth certificate.”
I could barely speak.
“For Sophie?”
“I didn’t know that then.”
“What name?”
Connor closed his eyes.
“Baby Girl Mercer.”
My breath stopped.
“You saw it?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
“I convinced myself it was connected to the miscarriage.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
“Anything else?”
He hesitated.
“There was a photograph.”
I leaned forward.
“Of what?”
“A newborn baby.”
The room went cold.
“You saw a photograph of a living newborn labeled with my name eight years ago.”
Tears slid down Connor’s face.
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I’m sorry.”
For the first time that day, I truly understood our marriage was not merely dead.
It had been built over graves.
I stood.
“Marcus will take your statement.”
Connor looked at me.
“And after?”
“After what?”
“After I cooperate.”
I knew what he was really asking.
Will you forgive me?
Will you come back?
Will there still be an us?
“No deal,” I said.
He looked devastated.
“You don’t get me as a reward for finally telling the truth.”
Then I walked into the adjoining room.
Paige was sitting near the window feeding Oliver.
James slept in a bassinet.
She looked at my face.
“He knew?”
“Enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
I stood beside the sleeping baby.
“So am I.”
Paige watched me.
“What happens to them?”
“The twins?”
She nodded.
“Whatever happens between the adults, they deserve stability.”
“And Connor?”
“He believed they were his.”
“Would you let him stay in their lives?”
I thought about it.
“That isn’t mine to decide.”
Paige’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“No parent does.”
The words left my mouth before I realized the irony.
I had never raised a child.
But somewhere, another woman had raised mine.
And if the lawyers succeeded, I might soon have to stand in front of Laura Bennett and explain that I was not there to take her daughter.
Our daughter.
I touched James’s tiny hand.
His fingers curled reflexively around mine.
Something in my chest softened.
“These children have already had enough adults deciding what they should mean,” I said.
Paige nodded.
“What do they mean?”
I looked at her.
“They’re babies.”
“For once, that should be enough.”
That evening Marcus entered with news.
“The Bennetts’ attorney called.”
I stood immediately.
“And?”
“They agreed to DNA testing.”
My heart pounded.
“And Sophie?”
“She doesn’t know yet.”
“Good.”
“They want to meet you first.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow night.”
“Where?”
“Charlotte.”
I looked toward the window.
Tomorrow, the Albright board would decide Connor’s future.
Tomorrow night, I would meet the people raising my daughter.
For years I believed my greatest loss was a marriage.
Now I knew better.
Connor entered quietly behind Marcus.
He had finished six hours of interviews with investigators.
He looked exhausted.
“Gwen.”
I turned.
“There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“My mother knows you found Sophie.”
“I assumed.”
“No.”
His expression was terrified.
“She knows exactly where Sophie lives.”
I froze.
“How?”
“I heard her on the phone.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did she say?”
Connor swallowed.
“She said, ‘Move the girl before Gwendolyn reaches her.’”
Everything inside me turned to ice.
Marcus already had his phone out.
I looked at Connor.
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
I grabbed my coat.
“Where are you going?”
“Charlotte.”
“Gwen—”
I turned to Marcus.
“Call the Bennetts.”
He was already dialing.
“No answer.”
Again.
Still nothing.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
Marcus looked at me.
“The Bennetts’ attorney says someone just tried to pick Sophie up from school.”
My blood ran cold.
May you like
“Who?”
“A woman claiming to be her grandmother.”
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