Chapter 3 - THE SECRET JULIAN COULD FEEL
Now, thirty minutes after receiving it, Julian sat beside Sloane in the back of his car.
Rain slid across the windows.
She rested her head on his shoulder.
“Our last quiet week,” she murmured.
Julian stared into the darkness outside.
“Are you happy?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“A simple one.”
She smiled.
“I’m marrying you. We’re having a baby. Of course I’m happy.”
Julian looked at her stomach.
Their supposed son.
He had already ordered a wooden rocking horse.
He had saved Elise’s favorite children’s book because she once told him she wanted to read it aloud to someone small enough to fall asleep against her chest.
He had taken that book from storage three weeks earlier.
It was now waiting beside the crib.
Suddenly, Julian felt sick.
Sloane touched his face.
“You look pale.”
“Long day.”
“Poor thing.”
Her voice was tender.
Perfectly tender.
That frightened him more than anything.
At home, Sloane changed into a loose nightgown.
Julian stood near the bedroom window.
He hated himself for what he was about to do.
He hated the waitress for putting the thought in his head.
He hated himself more for believing it.
“Sloane.”
“Mmm?”
“Come here.”
She smiled.
“Well, that sounds promising.”
Julian wrapped his arms around her.
She relaxed.
He slid one hand down her spine.
She stiffened.
“Careful.”
“My hand is on your back.”
“It’s sore.”
His fingertips moved lower.
There.
A ridge.
Thick.
Artificial.
Then another.
A strap.
Julian’s heart stopped.
Sloane stepped away.
“What are you doing?”
He forced a smile.
“Nothing.”
She studied him.
For the first time that night, a flicker of fear entered her eyes.
Julian kissed her forehead.
“Get some sleep.”
“You’re not coming to bed?”
“I have work.”
He walked out before his face betrayed him.
The moment his study door closed, Julian gripped the edge of his desk with both hands.
For several seconds, he could not remain standing.
He dropped into the chair Elise had given him on their seventh anniversary.
He remembered Sloane holding an ultrasound photograph.
He remembered crying.
Actually crying.
He had put his forehead against her stomach that night.
He had whispered, “I’m your dad.”
Now he pressed a fist against his mouth.
A sound came out anyway.
Small.
Broken.
Almost animal.
Then his eyes fell on Tess’s napkin.
Investigate before you sign anything.
Julian picked up his phone.
He called Owen Pike.
Owen had spent eighteen years conducting corporate due diligence for acquisitions Julian’s company considered too risky to touch without serious investigation.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“It’s almost midnight.”
“I know.”
“What happened?”
Julian stared at the closed office door.
May you like
“I need you to prove that my child doesn’t exist.”
