Chapter 3 - SEVEN CALLS HE IGNORED WHILE HIS WIFE FOUGHT TO LIVE
By the night of the Harcourt Children’s Foundation gala, Claire knew someone had taken almost $2 million.
She also knew her heart was getting worse.
She wore a dark green dress because Nathan once mentioned, two years earlier, that the color suited her.
He did not remember saying it.
Vanessa Whitmore arrived in white.
Vanessa was thirty-four, glamorous, wealthy and newly returned from Toronto to help manage her father’s coastal shipping company.
Martin had introduced her to Nathan months earlier.
“The Whitmore contract expires in spring,” Martin had said. “Her father would love a stronger family connection.”
“I already have a wife.”
Martin smiled.
“You have an arrangement.”
Nathan should have ended the conversation there.
He didn’t.
That was his first betrayal.
Not sleeping with Vanessa.
Not kissing her.
He never had.
But he let her flirt.
He let her touch his arm.
He let people see them together.
Most importantly, he let Claire see it.
At the gala, Claire stood near a marble pillar while Vanessa laughed at something Nathan said.
Nathan did not notice Claire’s lips had begun turning blue.
His sister Emily did.
“You look terrible.”
“I’m tired.”
“You need a doctor.”
“No.”
Claire’s heart gave one violent, uneven beat.
The room tilted.
“I’m going home.”
“I’m coming.”
“No. Stay.”
Emily caught her elbow.
“Claire—”
“Please.”
Claire found Samuel near the entrance.
He took one look at her and immediately reached for his keys.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“Home.”
“Hospital.”
“Samuel—”
“With respect, ma’am, this is one of those times I’m going to ignore you.”
By the time they reached the car, Claire could barely stand.
Samuel called Nathan seven times on the drive.
Nathan never answered.
Because at almost the exact moment Claire left the gala, Vanessa Whitmore fell down five marble steps.
She screamed that she had broken her wrist.
Nathan saw her lying on the floor.
He remembered his mother.
A woman begging not to be left alone.
So he drove Vanessa to St. Alder Medical Center himself.
In the car, Vanessa asked for his phone.
“I need to call my father.”
Nathan handed it over.
She turned it off.
Then she slipped it into her purse.
At the hospital, she held his hand.
And when Claire’s gurney emerged from the elevator, that was what Claire saw.
Nathan sitting beside another woman while Claire had come there alone.
Now, in the fourth-floor waiting room, Samuel told him everything.
Nathan sat facing the same city lights he had stared at when he was fifteen.
“How long has she been sick?”
“A year.”
Nathan looked at him.
Samuel did not look away.
“You knew?”
“She asked me not to tell you.”
“Why?”
Samuel’s answer landed harder than any blow Nathan had ever taken.
“Sir, when did you ever make her feel like she could?”
Nathan lowered his eyes.
The gardenia was still in his palm.
Emily arrived after midnight.
She was still wearing her red gala dress.
Her mascara had run.
“You were ten feet from her tonight,” she said. “Ten feet. Her lips were blue, Nathan.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
Emily’s voice cracked.
“She watches every room you walk into. She knows when you have a headache before you do. She knows when you skip breakfast. She knows you pretend not to like birthdays because Dad forgot half of yours.”
Nathan stared at the floor.
“And you didn’t know she was dying.”
“I know.”
Emily stopped.
Nathan Mercer did not admit mistakes.
Not publicly.
Not privately.
Almost never to himself.
She sat beside him.
At five seventeen in the morning, Dr. Hale entered.
Nathan stood so quickly the chair tipped backward.
“She survived.”
The air left Nathan’s lungs.
Dr. Hale continued.
“We replaced the valve and repaired the tear. The next forty-eight hours are critical.”
“Can I see her?”
The surgeon studied him.
“Yes.”
Then he added quietly, “She came to every appointment alone, Mr. Mercer. I repeatedly asked her to bring someone.”
Nathan looked away.
May you like
“I understand.”
“I hope you do.”
